the firestarters always get the burns
and the good guys never get the girl
Vulgaris. She tasted the name mentally, though didn't think to speak it aloud. He had a poetic way to describe his not-having-a-home perfectly, and she smiled a little. His observation that she fit in just fine, caused her to take a look at her surroundings once more, but shake her head briefly and gives a shrug. "Perhaps because you haven't seen me in my true home. Have you ever been to the mountains?" she countered, still not agreeing on her stark white against darker tree bark. Sure, the snow on the ground might make her fit in now, but any other season, she figured it was a no. At least, as long as she felt uncomfortable standing out like this, she would not feel like she fit.
Nevermind that though. The scaled stallion steps a little closer, although that actually just means not a neck-stretching way of talking, so she's fine. At least that's what she tells herself. What his look on her body does, she is not as comfortable with as what her diplomatic friendly face tells him - her son may be a yearling now, that doesn't mean she has forgotten about his un-invited conception. Although it is not the season now, any behaviour of that sort might damage her more than he may realize.
Perhaps it was a very bad idea not to bolt, and scream and... well, flying was out of the question in these shadows. That meant there was no guarantee that he would not overtake her. She frowned a little, but cleared her face again when he asked a question. She shook her head. "Not often." His smile relaxes her a little more, but the remainder of the alarmed feeling stays. One ear flicks as indication of her unease; nothing else shows. It's mostly herself she is uncomfortable with; she had not estimated well what the change in wings had done to her.
@[vulgaris] questionable dining preferences? lol