The glass spiral horn the most beautiful horn he's ever seen lowers and his only response is a slight curve of the neck that brings his own long, striped horns up. It's not a threat, only an instinctive posturing in response to something that feels like a show of intimidation. He will not be intimidated. He is not a warrior, but neither is he a child who flees from ghosts.
This close, he knows as certainly as he can that the other is real. He can smell him, practically feel his breath. In some ways, that almost makes the stranger more intimidating rather than less. Imani has reason to fear warriors, even if he is not inclined to show it. They learned, eventually, that he did not make good sport.
Then the stranger speaks, and any sense of caution that lingers in his bones. The spotted stallion's voice makes his chest ache and he wonders what puts the sadness there. He keeps a gentle expression in place and warns himself against pressing. It would not do to pry, not without invitation.
"It is not surprising as I'm new here. I am Imani." He gives a slightly, soft laugh, his voice low and easy. "Have you been here long? I feel as though I know so little about who is who and what is what."
A small chuckle at his own loss follows. For some reason he feels like he must be careful around this one, though he can't decide if it is because he appears like he could be dangerous or fragile. Perhaps both. There is something a little off that Imani wishes he could figure out. His muzzle tips up slightly now, so he can look the other in the face despite their height difference. His double horns arch back in graceful curves, thin and almost delicate in comparison to his stocky build. His dark tipped ears both train on this other member of his new (to him) herd in an attitude of attentive curiosity.
OOC:// @Mauja No problem :)