Accept the fires from which I came ;;

The somehow familiar mare launches into speech almost immediately, a sort of smirk playing at her lips. The name Anaxandra is familiar – she had once been a member of Scythia but had disappeared not long ago. He watches this sister of the mare in question with mild interest, grulla-painted ears twitching to and fro as she speaks of cleaning up her sibling’s mess. Eyes, the color of molten amber, flicker at the mention of a mess in the North -- the two kingdoms are not allies at the moment (even now one of their own lives in Scythia as the mercenary kingdoms prisoner) and the two-toned King is wary of the northerly territories. The silver-crowned stallion does not know, could not possibly given his loose association with those involved, about the incident that had driven Anaxandra to the edge and subsequently, to his borders. An introverted creature (to a point, of course) himself, he had not deemed it his business as to why she had left the Lakes to take up residence in his kingdom. Shifting his weight, he clears his throat before speaking, the tones forever husky, as if they have been in disuse for decades rather than hours. “I do. She was in our ranks at one point but seems to have disappeared …”

That tail swishes again, brushing away at ivory-marked haunches. “I am not aware of any mess she had made, though now that I think about it, she may have made mention of something …” Throaty tones trail off in thought as he tries to recall anything Anaxandra may have mentioned. His mind, no longer a youthful sponge, strains to find a piece of memory associated with what Wyngarden speaks of but there is nothing out of the ordinary though … Shoulders roll in a nonchalant shrug. “She caused no trouble here.” Bright eyes appraise the mare studiously, a steel curtain shuttering his thoughts away from prying eyes. Of course, he possesses no stone of Elyria and so cannot know that she may even now be prying into his eyes (which would most assuredly be a mistake on her part). His deliberation is an honest one though, curiosity concerning Anaxandra’s misdeeds coloring that pensive introspection. Content to wait for answers, the brooding creature settles his weight across all fours, interested in what she has to say for herself.