With each breath that fogged in the air before them, the mare greedily drank the appearance of the steed, noting with critical accuracy the way in which each feather bent across his wings, the way each hair lifted and shifted in the wind. Most curiously, in her opinion, were his eyes, not for their colour, for colour was merely a cover, a distraction to what laid within - it was the deep and constant pang of grit and determination within his gaze that caught her attention. He did not seem to shy away from her, nor did he chase her away - instead he captivated her, caught her completely - his bait were his eyes and his hook the resolve in which he carried himself. He was a tall steed, formidable being the choice word she had used in scripting him earlier, but it was not the thick layers of muscle that coated his skeleton nor the obviously lacklustre condition of his feathered appendages that Mirage allowed herself to judge him by; it was the manner in which he presented himself.

Svelte flutes pressed forward atop her finely chiselled tiara, clinging to his voice like a child would grasp upon snowflakes - one moment they were dancing before you, the next, merely a memory. It was by the very roughness of his tone, and easy way in which he relinquished that which laid within him that further drew the mare in. A step, singular in number but large and speaking far more than a thousand words ever could, was taken towards him. She was curious, but not only that, she yearned to know what life this brute had lived. A chilled breeze sliced through the air, and the queenly little shadow was reminded of the injuries that laced across her hide, the bruises that ached and the cuts that needed a new warm poultice slung over them. But such things could wait.

"Folly indeed, stallion, to assume anything of one whom you saw for the first time only seconds ago." Quietly her exotic, accented tones pressed into the space that lingered still between them, though they lacked the obvious drawl of an insult, or accusation. They merely dissected the words which he had originally presented her with, and gave a hint as to just how she might be interpreting them. Almost quizzically, her ears twitched at their station atop her poll, before swiftly refocussing upon the titanic brute before her. It was not the first tall, mahogany stallion she had come across; not the first time she stared into something which could very easily crush her.

"And when the cold season passes and you have lived happily in this home, what is it you would do then?" A brow raised, a subtle, soft emphasis on the interest she was showing towards this pegasus. The WeyrLeader was draw him, to the sense of fortitude he permeated, the sheer will to continue on surviving, no matter what life threw at him. Strangely, the mare wanted to see what his journey within Helovia would be like, she wanted to learn as much as she could about him.. If only he would show the appropriate attributes; perhaps he could call the World's Edge his home in the near future.