the firestarters always get the burns
and the good guys never get the girl
Her white bodice is perhaps blending in with the snow and ice, but not with the trees. Her figure - together with the dim light that radiates from her new wings - is a stark contrast with the dark brown bark that surrounds her, and so she is not surprised when hse is spotted by another. It’s just that she would rather have liked to travel alone and, mostly, quick through the forest. It’s not a land she is all that familiar with.
He is dapple grey, a dark and lighter pattern that perhaps is better suited for the environment. He reminds her of a one-time lover, at least, if it was to be called love what had lasted for about one afternoon in the meadow in the season of reproduction. Not something she would repeat now, even though she had a pretty daughter with perhaps a little less likeable trait. Gift or curse, that was something only time could tell.
In other aspects however, this stallion had a different look to him. Scales over his muzzle, fangs (not perfectly white, making her wonder what he ate and then dismissing that thought because she might not want the answer), and eyes with a certain predatory look. Yet, he did not seem to be tensed, not hunting, and he gave off no alarming signals. At the moment.
She shook her head to his question. ”I have to walk depending on the weather. But to be honest I haven’t ever been a fan of the forest. I don’t think I fit in so well.” she explained. Looking at him, she attempted a smile. ”I’m Ilma. From Hyaline, so, just passing through really. Do you live here?”
@[Vulgaris]