The day was slow to warm; hidden as it was by its veil of heavy clouds the sun did not reach him well as he stood there, waiting for the day to break in earnest. He would have preferred warmer weather. Winter reminded him somehow of Fane, which made the season more insufferable than it usually was. Spring was coming, these winter mornings were still biting but the days were longer now - the weather would be changing soon enough. Spring, of course, eventually meant summer…

Achaius’ black-dipped ear cocked toward the sound of crunching snow and he glanced up out of his reverie to see the hybrid youth coming out of the trees into the clearing just a brief moment before he spoke. Even so, it took him a good look to be sure of what he was seeing. The wings and the horn were less of a distraction than Ilios’ bright colours. In fact – he reflected – he was pretty sure he had seen wings before, maybe a horn or two, but the teal and gold took a moment to absorb. Achaius realized he was staring just before the other had finished speaking. Hastily, he smiled and cleared his throat: “Thank you – Ilios...”
             

On the point of his own introduction, however, he paused. There was a very distinct call through the nearby trees. There were wings flapping but they weren’t Ilios’. Achaius’ attention was distracted and he looked up toward the sound, into the line of sparkling trees. It came into site abruptly – and clearly looking for them. The zephyr was another surprise for him today. The site of Elsa stepping out after it was almost a relief – from the corner of his eye she was the most familiar thing he had seen since his arrival. It wasn’t until she spoke, and he turned his eyes from the bird to look at her fully that he appreciated the subtle, striking points of colour. The winter clearly suited her – with her feet in the several inches of fluffy dry snow it looked as though the rest of her had simply come together that way, from the myriad unique flakes that had fallen overnight.
            

He returned her bow, gently lowering his head and his eyes to the ground as he sunk down over his fore. “Elsa” he repeated, as he did. He stepped sideways as he rose, turning to include the duo better, though he kept his eyes on Elsa as he went on “Have you met Ilios?” tilting his head toward the younger male. Then, turning his gray shrouded eye again to the teal-gold adolescent Achaius went on “He was paying me the kindness of a first welcome.”

It was overwhelming, he thought as he looked the other over again, but it suited Ilios somehow.