There is an odd flash that crossed the mare's feminine face, a brief look of familiar pain, but it was gone before Apollo can comment. If there were deeper, darker thoughts that Lyanna was not comfortable sharing with him, then it would be terribly rude to pry or make her. They were, after all, practically strangers, and the Merciful was far too kind-hearted to pry into one's personal life. Lyanna then stretched her wings outwards away from her ebony bodice, the teal tips of her feathers brushing against the trunks of the trees surrounding them, and upon his spine, Zola is mesmerized.

A deep purr resonates from the feline's chest, a soothing sound to Apollo's ears, and upon hearing it, the overo chuckles once again.

'Thank you,' she says, 'My whole family has the teal tips.' A genetic trait, then? Interesting. It reminded him of Ktulu and the trait that her family carried; white or black tresses tipped with a rich crimson. Thought of the Constrictor threatened to dampen the Merciful's mood, and so immediately he cast his attention back on Lyanna, nodding thoughtfully. Now was not the time to ponder heartbreak.

At the dark mare's innocent inquiry, Apollo lifted his head, a curious gaze overtaking depths of honey-brown. Had he heard her correctly? Lyanna wished to learn more about this forest? To see it how he saw it? No one had ever truly cared to know such an intimate detail about him, to truly attempt to understand his love for these trees. Most had called him foolish, or a 'tree-hugger', whatever that meant... But the Merciful was a firm believer that everything in the world had a soul, from animals like them, to the trees, to even the stones or sand upon the beach of the Endless Blue.

"I... I would love to." He stuttered out, that warm, jovial, boyish smile once more overtaking his features, strands of a dark, ebonite forelock falling over his honeyed gaze, "These woods change all the time, but I would be honored to show you around to the best of my knowledge."

His heart felt light, as though something had been returned to him. Maybe, in Lyanna, he could find a dear friend, who understood? Since Midas' death, few would give Apollo the time of day... But maybe, just maybe, this teal-tipped mare would be willing to call him a friend?

Dipping his jeweled head downwards to avoid the low-hanging tree limbs, the cerulean beads within his mane clicking together, Apollo lifted his hooves, taking great care to not stumble or step upon any roots. It was just as much for his own safety as well as the safety of the trees around them. "Come, m'lady," the monochromatic stallion voiced graciously, beginning the trek past the ebony Pegasus and glancing back her way, motioning for her to follow with his muzzle, "There's much to see. I'll show you my favorite place... A pool of water beneath a wise old fir tree, with gems as red as fire." Hopefully Lyanna would like it. Hopefully she could appreciate it.

Hopefully she wouldn't think him a fool.