She's got the devil's eyes
There are many things that Heartfire could be described as, but affable is most certainly not one of them. Though she does not share the same recalcitrance this newcomer seems to, there is a certain harsh quality to her presence. Something that seems neither quite welcoming nor quite off putting. An almost aggressive neutrality that often stands her in good stead.
The woman before her might lack a certain finesse, but it is nothing the blue and white mare finds particularly disturbing. After all, she would never be accused of being especially diplomatic herself, so she takes no offense at her companions blatant observations and untempered questions.
In truth, she finds it rather amusing, though that fact does not slip into her bearing. Her humor, as it so often is, remains dryly hidden behind the chilly stillness of her features. The wind whispers around them, brittle fingers cutting across thick coats and tangled locks. A perfect backdrop for the unusual queen of the north.
Tilting her head slightly, she settles comfortably, appearing as unconcerned in the face of the woman’s words as the trampled, frozen ground beneath their feet. “Of course not,” she murmurs agreeably as the Neverwhere declines culpability in the choosing of her name. “Names are ultimately rather meaningless, aren’t they?”
After all, names are primarily breath. No, it hadn’t been a name she found interesting, but something much, much deeper.
Her lips twitch faintly as the scarred woman continues, her blunt questions bordering the razor’s edge of sarcasm. It’s an amusing thought though, one she considers with careful intrigue. Truthfully, were she so inclined, she could have her seeing flies. Could demonstrate how easily her musings could become reality. Or at least, a version of reality.
But she hadn’t come here to cater to the whims of a sharp-tongued stranger.
“Regrettably not,” she replies after a rather lengthy, contemplative silence. “As convenient as that might be.” She doesn’t bother to expound however. The woman might wonder, but she hadn’t begun the ask the correct questions. And should she choose to pursue the line of thought, no doubt Neverwhere would find extracting information from Heartfire an exhausting endeavor.
After another heavy silence, Heartfire continues, eschewing any further diplomacy in favor of the same bluntness her companion had favored her with. “Tell me, does that scar have a story?”
A brutal question perhaps, but she finds herself curious. She can see facts, but she has so often found the world is far more gray than that.
and they'll cut you like a weapon