Djinni has long since given her happenstance meetings to Fate; there is no other way to account for them. She stumbles upon those in need far more often than she finds those warm with content.
It seems that this meeting so no different; the silver black filly admits to looking for a magician.
She rather prefers the term mage, much to her djinn’s amusement. Nayl had been wiser than perhaps she’d intended in titling the pied mare so.
“You should be careful who you say such things to,” Djinni says with a quirk of a smile on her indigo face. There are those who would take Jay up on her offer: she would do anything. The genie tilts her head a bit to the side, surveying the young horse with a gaze far more scrutinizing than when she had first stumbled across her. She seems to find something satisfying, or at least as much is suggested by her response.
“I could give you wings.” She says, “even ones that match your name.” Djinni pauses, her golden eyes wide as she takes in the filly’s response. She does so like to see their reactions, and equally anticipates the cautious hesitation that often comes afterward.