I admit it may have been foolish to approach a stranger who appears to have fallen on…confusing…times. Taking no pleasure in his obvious distress, I decided to break through the trees only to have my presence fall on blind eyes and deaf ears. This is where I felt a glimmer of regret for my approach, this frantic male clearly in no condition for company. I mentally snort at myself, You are not exactly appealing company yourself. Lips twitch for half a heartbeat at my self-derision though I never lie, not even to myself. It was then I chose to speak dispelling the laden atmosphere and surprising the stranger who should have been aware of me several minutes ago. Features locked into their effortless mask, I give no indication of witnessing his graceless shock. Rules, rules, rules I hear my mother’s voice whisper to my mind.

Cerulean eyes observe as he does, without subtlety or subterfuge. His hide matches mine only in its base, a swirling blend of soft browns and steely greys marring the onyx in way I can only describe as enchanting. I have never seen such a pattern before, but then again, I have not known many pegasi either.  He is far more muscular than I, seemingly a mix of the heavier draft breeds, and though I will never admit to it my eyes linger for a moment. My cataloging of his form is disrupted by a new charge in the air around us and quickly my eyes seek out his only to find them scanning my barrel and back intently. Onyx tail flicks out in a single warning; memories of another time and place threatening to erase my outward calm.

Elegance; always remain composed my mother’s whispering voice fills my head once more.

When did the mask slip down? Quickly I force my face to relax and morph back into line; all anxiety neatly vanquished. There is little I can do for the anxiety bunching my slender form even as I watch his mouth fall open. Expecting to hear his voice where it has been lacking in our interaction, I am unpleasantly denied. His lilac eyes stare hard and perhaps accusing before, at last, he speaks a minute later. The straining, shuffling noise of his wings attempting escape draws my attention and it is several heartbeats before I realize he is speaking another language intermixed with English. Dragging my gaze away from his failing wings, the sarcasm not lost on me, I watch him pin his ears back with one last phrase ringing out.

It is hard to remain composed in the face of lunacy

I stand silently trying to solve the riddle he presents. Bean Sidhe? He’s not dying tonight? My brain scrambles find any context clues or memories that may serve me well here. Having never heard this language before, surely I would recall such an alluring accent; I realize the answer is to simply ask. Ask a madman? Black lids slide closed for half a second before it is my turn to stare. “Perhaps you would care to explain how I would know to announce your death?”Vocals remain soft, elegance and composure are linked to this; never raise your voice above a pleasant octave. His tense state is not unobserved which aids my ability to stand calmly, the mask firmly in place. Curiosity though burns bright and I am not yet afraid of the fall, “And a translation would be lovely.” I risk another line as desperation sneaks into my mind; I want to know what he said in that beautiful yet accusatory speech.


"speech"

OOC: Do you want me to keep tagging you?