She has not meant to frighten him. Maybe before, in her youth, she would have reveled in such a reaction to her appearance. She had hoped for these features after all, crafted them carefully to meet her needs. How naive she had been, to not think of the far-reaching consequences of such dangerous looks. Of course it had been years (or hundred of them) since she had last spoken to another horse, so this gnawing feeling of remorse was new to her. All she wanted now was to be seen as the gentle being she felt she had become on the inside, not the warrior raptor she had been.
His reaction hurts - of course she has no way of knowing that it is caused (at least in part) by his own insecurities. She feels a sort of heat rise in her face and behind her eyes as she doubts her decision to speak to him. She sends her eyes down to the ground between them quickly, unable to face that fear any longer. But then he responds, his voice quiet and unsure of itself. Just as quickly her eyes jolt back up to the green male and she glimpses for the first time the inner demons behind those brown eyes. Not to their full extent, of course, but she can at least acknowledge their existence. Maybe this hadn't been such a bad idea after all.
The hilarity of his name and the color of his skin and the sour smell that she was now quite sure belonged to him strike her now and she can't help but smile. Nature had been cruel to this poor animal, but damn didn't she have a sense of humor? The hawk woman can only guess at the sort of life the poor kid had led, but still she knew of plenty of horses seemingly much worse off that had led perfectly happy and productive lives. Prolific too. She often wondered why the odd ones always had so many children. Guess novelty was the new sexy when she was young. Maybe, she thinks, it's different now. The green man doesn't seem the type to have fathered many foals, but she could be wrong. She looks at him curiously as she ponders this and considers his words.
No one, huh? That described her pretty well too. What a pair they made, two weird-looking nobodies. One stunk, one could easily gouge your eyes out. She can't stop smiling. "Nice to meet you, Fart. I'm Seraphina." She wants to add something to that, but there is nothing to add. It sounds so empty to her ears, like some awful, disappointing cliffhanger. She shifts her weight gently, slowly, as to avoid startling her companion and also to move herself away from the edge of that metaphorical cliff. "Are you from around here?" She asks curiously. She knows that some horses wander to these lands from parts unknown. She herself had traveled outside of Beqanna's borders. Perhaps this man had a home here, or like her, was transitory - a wanderer. Regardless, she is interested in his story and wants to hear his voice again. The voice of another was like a cool drink to this girl who had spent so, so much time alone.
Seraphina