As the stallion turned, his metallic gaze filled with a sort of mist that she understood to be depression, she returned his sorrowful and almost nostalgic sadness with a demure smile, the sigh that escaped his lips misinterpreted as a sign of displeasure towards her, easily understood by the sheepish expression that now adorned her lips as she, too, let the silence extend their knowledge of each other's physical beings. Even more pressing upon her strange desire to befriend this uniquely made unicorn was the way his features contorted in response to her question, though she managed to keep it from bleeding onto her face this time. Replacing her awkward grin was now a face of curiosity, dark rimmed ears raised to catch the sounds of his voice, very similar to the crush of pebble ridden soil, or perhaps the rough and crisp destruction of leaves beneath hooves.

Regardless, it's notes were in fine accordance to the rough exterior of the Engineer, and she found something even more alluring in the words than even his sounds or the many bits and pieces that made up his rather untamed appearance and tone. That he was obviously capable of holding his own, the smell of the world beyond the safety of the mountains heavy upon his skin, and that he also held a certain rugged appearance that Illynx found both delightfully masculine and decidedly pure-blooded of good, sound lines (his pattern divulged his perfection more clearly than his horn ever could, and, oh, that wondrous tail) were only all the more desirable when combined with the most interesting tidbit she had gathered yet; this one had magic.

Magic to mold something as beautiful as these bits of metal that gleamed in the moonlight.

Her eyes burned with interest more keenly than they had before, her previous worries of having intruded upon him against his wishes stilled by the reply and completely smashed out of her mind by the mention that he could manipulate the silvery bits strewn before him in some means that was yet unknown to her. His sadness as he spoke, however, forced the lady to reign back her enthusiasm at this discovery, the urge to bully him into making the magic work despite the faulty connections between the horses of Helovia and their beloved Gods barely restrained from bursting from her eager lips. She quickly subdued the curious smile that threatened her face and replaced it with a line of faux concern, though to all who observed it, the expression was quite believable. "Mold?" she queried softly, an ear flitting backwards and then back towards the black and bronze stallion, "I would not have thought you an artist, appearances alone." The smile that followed her words was quirky and full of cheek that was usually seen only in children seeking to draw out the frustrated anger of their parents, though any who knew the mare well would be able to ascertain from her playful thrust at the stag that she was clearly trying to form some sort of connection by allowing such an ugly emotion as hopelessness be erased by the beauty of anger, no matter how slight it may be.

Assuming he was so easy to rouse, of course. Something told her that this one would bare much more of her childish taunting than most, but she could not be sure until she had tested her theory and, as had happened so often in her life, she could very well be entirely wrong.

Either way, the subject had partially left the region of faulty magic and quickly entered in upon her wounds, the male's companion hound rising to wag his hellos to the woman. The mare smiled coyly in response to both, letting the seconds slip by quietly as she glanced down at her bedraggled limbs in time to miss the stallion's longing glance towards the metal upon the floor. "It would seem that with the Lord Time absent, other beings saw their opportunity to seize things for themselves," a slender giggle broke from her, stifled by her continued words, "The Steppe was assaulted by one such creature, a massive dragon that dripped such volatile saliva and blood. I cannot recall ever seeing such a monstrous being in all my life." He had drifted nearer her side as she spoke, the snow that had accumulated on his side chill as he came to a halt alongside her. As he has moved, she followed his progression with her gaze, a momentary flicker of shock crossing her expression as he offered her his side to lean upon. It was an intriguing notion, no matter that she barely knew him, despite the grime that laced his sides and the knots that riddled his hair.

Despite her desire to accept his offer, however, doubts as to how it would make herself appear to the male kept her stationary for the time being. It would show weakness to accept his aid while she had refused that of the healers; weakness being the one thing that Illynx had found she absolutely could not tolerate within herself or others. Her brain rode back and forth tumultuously between to the two decisions for what seemed like eternity to the mare, who had decided to allow his courteous offer to play out to what ever outcome it would have, her shoulder pressing neatly into the slightly damp, chill, and definitely muddy support of Ulrik's own. Closer to him than before, the smell of the earth that coated him was more prevalent, though he did not stink as she had feared; rather, he smelled like soil, the hound carrying more of an unpleasant odor than his master, and even Kirchoff didn't smell awful. "I refused healing; I find these wounds most honorable, in memory of the dragon but also of my service to Helovia. Perhaps I am only foolish, if I seem so distressed to a man such as yourself."