She is out of her element when talking to the stallion. She has no social skills to speak of, no defense against his charming smile, no way to discern what is truth and what is lie. She has nothing to judge him against, nothing to protect herself with. She only has the barest foundation of knowledge and the way that her ocean heart claims that he is one of her own—that they are, somehow, cut of the same cloth.
It gives her a fake comfort in his presence, overriding her fight or flight instincts
It makes her put her hoof back down against the soft sand, although she doesn’t walk toward him. It makes her hold his gaze, wondering at the depths of them. When he finally does break the silence, she frowns slightly, looking down at the water lapping down around her legs. “I don’t know,” she says, honest again. “Should I?” She glances up, searching his face for the answer before looking to the horizon.
She’s never thought about what it would mean to stay somewhere.
So far, in her short life, she has only known the ocean and the different lands it takes her. Some, like the river, are less than favorable (and she could never imagine staying landlocked in such a place), but others, like Ischia are not so terrible. Perhaps, like her parents, she could find a home. A place to stay.
It is a strange thought, and her head nearly hurts with contemplating it.
But breaks the silence again and she drags her eyes back to him. “Ivar,” his name is strange on her tongue, and she repeats it, letting her silvery voice wrap around the syllables, testing them. “Ivar.” She swallows and then nods, her teal lips splitting into a brilliant smile. “My name is Evia.”
@[Ivar]