Unsure what to make of this unicorn, Zya's hooves seem to jitter and hesitate.  The mouth of the other curves in the typical "oh" shape before the sound even escapes, filtered with glittering tones of a woman, but hard as rock underneath.  Something about them sung of male and female, but the rough scent which clawed its way through the humid air finally sets the final decision: male.  This swung her mind for a loop more than anything else, for if while women were thought to be flowers traditionally, this man boasted petals finer than any rose.

A smile matches hers, after the surprised voice turns to delight, and warms the pale girl's cheeks.  The solid eyes find hers between the shadows of the forest, a vibrancy held within them unlike any she had ever seen.  Something remarkable, much like the rest of things she experienced in Helovia.

Blankly, Zyanya blinks in response to the wink, an expression she is not familiar with.  Coquettish girls existed back home, of course, but the pallid beauty had never been one for such overt and glamorous actions.  She a practice in modesty, while this stallion's very presence boasted a flamboyant personality and uniqueness to match.  An odd pair they make, standing in the forest at the edge of Helovia.  "I see," she replies in turn with his explanation, eyes turned up to glance around the arrangement of branches, sunlight spilling over her face like glitter.

My name is Skyfall, do you think you could tell me where on earth I am?

Her eyes fall back to his face, Skyfall.  An odd name, she thinks; one that conjures up images of clouds crashing down to the earth, or even of the Flats with their reflections on the thin, salt lake.

Her mouth opens again, but automatically clamps shut when the voice of another bursts through the trees.  Eyes dart to the origin, finding a chocolate colored stallion decorated with gold markings striding forward.  His movements mimic that of a prince or king, gait confident and assured, very fitting for one painted gold.  Zyanya did not know why, but she wanted to bow before him, instead, her head dips politely to acknowledge his approach, quiet deference given during his introduction.  Rikyn.  It is not a name she is familiar with, but many in her home would surely know.

Sheepishly, her eyes flicker from the faces of the two stallions toward the ground.  She looks at her small, curved hooves, trying to find some confidence to speak freely.  Normally, her encounters thus far had been one-on-one type deals, but here, she felt overwhelmed.  Both personalities of her companies screamed with strength, while hers was a timid and dull glow.  "Zyanya," she practically whispers into the warm air, her heart fluttering against her ribcage and drumming in her ears.  "My name is Zyanya."

""