Her newly acquired bird skulls jangle inside her tangled mane as she tilts her vicious three-horned head at the handsome colt, exposing the livid pink scars across her right eye. Oizys isn't hideous to look at, but the right side of her face certainly is, with the scars that ripple across most of it and disfigure the black flesh beneath. She wears the scars with pride, mementos of her father's harpy's brutal attack on her at her birth. The gargoyle does not intend to show off her scars, but it's an unfortunate byproduct of the interested tilt of her head - if he turns green at the sight of them, then maybe she should rethink her decision to extend the hoof of friendship in the first place.

She does hope that isn't the case, though. He's even hotter close up, and there's an unfortunate lack of eye candy in the Edge so the gargoyle is seizing every opportunity to get her fill. He puffs out his chest and the filly's tail flickers against her hocks approvingly as she admires the show he's putting on for her - he's a fine specimen, even her young eye can see that. Leaders of the pack, he says, in a delightfully gruff voice that only enhances his already '10/10 would bang' reputation in her eyes, and she flashes a wolfish grin. Ker releases a put-upon sigh and tucks her head under her wing with an air of eurgh, my eyes as her bonded continues to shamelessly admire her newfound bird-skull-buddy, but Oizys studiously ignores the eagle.

The colt introduces himself as Amalrik, and Oizys dips her tri-horned head in greeting. "A pleasure," she says with the hint of a purr in her voice. He says he is the son of Ulrik the Engineer, and Oizys knows that to have such a title is quite a distinction. Hmm....he has bloodlines, then. "Means nothing, but I'm sure he's delightful." She wiggles her eyebrows, her mind unwittingly drifting to Father and wondering what he would think of his daughter's....acquaintance. He nips at her bird skulls and she returns the favour with a wicked glint in her eye, hardly even noticing the goings-on at the Giving Tree.

She notices with a quirk of her brow that the filly he'd been talking to when she approached then proceeded to shoulder-barge him, and she looks over at the grey youngster with the black dragon with thinly-veiled interest. "Friend of yours?" she questions. Jealous girlfriend, perhaps?