"And I see no reason to be modest when I am obviously a fantastic creature," the stallion says with a laugh at the attempted jab at his ego. A whip of his tail seems to tingle with a surge of electric static, but it disappears instantly. Excitement was building in the stallion's blood, that was certain. It sent a tingle from the tips of his short cropped mane down his spine, making his legs begin to move with anticipation for a few short clipped motions before stilling again.

The unicorn stallion, proud, seems to shake off whatever jitters he had upon the black stallion's arrival, and takes a composure that is most fitting for his icy appearance. Black eyes trace up from his face and toward the small owl at his head before looking back. "Asni is fine, of course," the baritone voice says with much lavishing charm, a smile tugging at the corners of charcoal lips. Speaking up once more, the mare tries for another cutting blow of words.

"If you don't like my attitude, princess, you can leave at any time." A flash of a wink makes one black eye disappear under a curtain of ivory for a brief moment before the expression turns back into one of cold solidity.

The pegasus was thoughtful, admiring the great icy expanse at their feet, even as the sun made its way toward the horizon. However, this sunset, this burning, dying light, was unusually stretched during this conversation, or at least that is how it felt. Just how long did it take for the sun to sink beyond the horizon? How long would this icy world be trapped in an orange glow?

"Ah, yes, the allure of the shining white," the words fall out with a graceful flick of a feathered hoof, dislodging powdery snow and having it dance a few inches from the surface, illuminated in the dying light. Everything was purposeful, or at least it seemed so. The emphasis on the snow, its beauty. Yet, his speech mildly interrupted by the landing of a griffon. Dully, the black stallion peers downward, toward the white body of fur and feathers. Not surprisingly, a mare follows close in suit, and the unicorn glances up from the griffon to look at its master, wholly unphased.

Even the words which spill from her mouth do not do much to change the expression on his face, but they seem to upset the tower of snow and ice that is Mauja. The flat, abrupt 'no' said more than enough about his attitude toward this mare, and a faint glimmer of mischief crawls out of the eyes of the black and white stallion. This would be fun.

Yet, before he could toy with this new dynamic, there was something he had to set right. Speaking very evenly, without any note of emotion to be traced in his solid voice, in response to her stain upon the lands of the Steppe. There is a sudden wall between this strange stallion and his audience. "Volatile? This kingdom of ice and snow? I know this land better than you ever could, girl. This place is the most constant of any in Helovia, that I will assure you." A piercing dark gaze sets in before his demeanor breaks, shifts, like a switch flicking back on after the toil of seriousness.

He had not intended to give a history lesson.