I do not know the blue maiden who dances towards me, shells strung in her mane, but I do know that she most immediately has my full attention as soon as I take note of my rather pretty company. Above me, the trees seem to wave their branches to her in greeting, a cool spring breeze sending the loose tassels of my highly tangled mane dancing across the muscles of my raised neck, arched elegantly for her visual pleasure.

Fearlessly, she comes to stand beside me, my heart beating ever so slightly faster at the bold innocence of the young woman. Her horn, pale and curved, rests between oddly pale eyes, similar to ice that has stood for weeks rather than centuries, her features sculpted and delicate as the curvature of the conch shells bound and singing in her mane. Even more delightful than the grace of her being is the breeze of her voice, gentle and pristine in the wind, the sheer awe she feels in the presence of the behemoth wood evident in every dancing syllable.

All the while I watch her with my gilded eyes clinging, tail curving behind me in pleasant delight at the company I have found this afternoon. I find only silence for a while, trying to find in the shadow of the trees the same reverence she does, finding again only the same inquiries as to their strangeness as were there before she arrived.

Her name is Tiamat, she says, and that she is of my land, her graceful neck curving her face about so that her pale eyes look into my own, her blue muzzle reaching out in a request to exchange breath, like family, dear friends, lovers, a gesture which I oblige.

The smell of her warm breath against my own, laced with the sweet green things of Birdsong, framed in the crackling heat of the super heated stone, sends a secondary warmth coursing through me, a youthful eagerness adding tension to each muscle along my figure, tension that is entirely friendly - perhaps too much so.

I am all smiles when we part.

"Beautiful and strange," I answer to her first statement, letting my eyes look away to their far away boughs before I look back to her, a far more pleasant sight than the trees, "but there are a lot of things like that, it seems.”

"I’m Rikyn," I state, and though I make no mention of my rank, I elude to our shared homeland with a quirky smile, "it’s odd we meet here rather than at home."

Where some boys are shy and clumsy in their infatuations and thrumming hormonal responses, I like to think I am not – rather, that it brings out the better parts of my personality, hiding away the pieces of myself which are black and brooding, malevolent and private. These abysmal attributes of my persona quickly leap into cover behind the bright shimmer of my golden eyes, the ease of the smile which curves across my face, and the seamless transition into whatever skin is best for the moment. It is a skill that I am almost sure came from my dam – my sire having a more straightforward and unbending character, while the woman who had birthed me wore so many masks that even her son couldn’t tell who she truly was beneath.

So this skin shines like silver armor, my eyes unwavering as they watch her features tilt up towards the ruddy halos which frame the leaves, dark ears raised to catch the rustle of branches and the lilt of her voice. Nature has her own mind, she says, earning a smile from me that disguises the wonder as to why nature is a female – the God who made this land was male, after all – while less offensive commentary makes its way from my lips.

"Explains the weather some days," I answer with a chuckle and smirk.

Quietly, I listen to her joy that we shared a home and her further ruminations on the land with my gaze unwavering. She is beautiful, even more so layered in the vibrant glow of one who is trusting, innocent, and warm. She is like so many young women, who shine with a light that is hard to tarnish, intoxicating and welcome, a distinct difference in this feminine charm from that of older dames who are thick and luxurious like smoke, rather than sunlight.

"I was born there in the same year as Erebos," I answer proudly, for truly I am prideful on the matter of truly belonging in the land I called home (and take for granted that she might not know who Erebos is), "though I left for a while. All together over a year."

It is not so great a time frame – but to a boy barely out of his colt-hood, a year is eternity.

The sound of hooves draws my eyes away from the oceanic damsel for the first time in a while, their golden depths broadening in surprise and something similar to guilt. Zandora approaches, looking worn and weary as she has since we’d left the Basin, halting alongside Tiamat and I with a glum and most bland announcement of her name.

I guess that’s part of why I had managed to wander off from her like I did – the ebony and violet mare was pretty, to be sure, but she wasn’t the best sort of companion, perhaps less preferable to leaning against something rigid and freezing for an extended period of time.

As I am starting to expect from Tiamat, the azure mare is delighted at the arrival of the warrior mare, bouncily leaping into conversation as though she has known this woman all her life. It is an admirable trait that I often find myself envying in others – while I am not distant and surely come across as available in conversation (I think, anyway), I am also rather guarded with my emotions and who I am. The bone crowned mare seems to have no qualms or armors, her soul almost tangible as the warmth born from sunlight.

She is truly fearless, I think to myself, feeling a hard and sharp emotion jut into all the infatuations that had flooded me before, my teeth clenching together tightly for a moment.

"She is," I offer as I shake away my dark thoughts, smiling meekly in a form of apology at the amethyst and evening mare, "we were supposed to be patrolling together, but I wandered away."

I look back to Tiamat, smiling, having found my usual boisterous and womanizing self that had temporary fled behind green envy.

"I’d have never met you, though," I say with a wink, "and she is here now. All is well that ends well, isn’t that the saying?"

[ OOC: he's obviously lecherous asfuq. Also I'm sorry for slowness! I hope I can be faster here on out. <3 ]
@Zandora