She had been a princess once.

Though she had but few relatives on the Islands now, the slender-legged mare had ancestry here. She remembered her days in the Cavern fondly: her sire had been king of the dark underground labyrinth, making her (by default) a princess. Her dam, the Queen, hadn't been there from the start, leaving her daughter on the proverbial doorstep, and they were a small group, but she'd grown up with all the love and adoration a princess deserved. Of course, Irina had thrown it all away the moment she'd left the Islands. Ranks and titles here meant nothing on the mainland.

After having spent so long as a nameless, powerless wanderer, it felt weird thinking of herself as old royalty. She knew her blood ran thick in the Island's roots, leading back to several long-gone legends - Koschei, for one, and Jareth - but she didn't think to mention it. Her family was a large one, and indeed, she probably had a fair amount of distant relatives running around here somewhere. Trying to push her rank by virtue of her birth seemed foolish - and honestly, she rather preferred the lower ranks. It gave her more freedom to go as she pleased without being noticed. Besides, who here would care who she was?

Nobody, looks like, she thought as she wandered into the Paradise alone, the air pleasantly warm on her skin. Winter seemed not to have touched this place, and the lush vegetation swayed in the gentle breeze, bringing its sweet perfume to her velveteen nose. Along with the smells of the flowers came the scent of horse, and she switched her course to follow it, seeing a whitesplashed figure walking with purpose along the sand. He was young, like her, but younger than she was, and she knew because of his color that he was not the dark stallion who'd marked her for his own in the Common. But this land smelled like him - so perhaps he was, in his own right, a prince. She knew most stallions here didn't keep colts amongst them unless they were heirs.

Irina called out to him, her high winny carried on the wind. Her dark body moved towards him, the soft light betraying the hints of lighter dapples in the creases of her flanks and the fine points of her face. She dipped her head, dropping it low in a proper, formal greeting, and her bright blue eyes met his, full of curiosity.

"Hello," she offered, her voice a bit timid. "Is this - does a dark stallion with pale hair live here?" She'd rushed to get here, heeding his eagerness to make it back promptly, and in her haste had forgotten to learn his name. The best she could do was give this colt a description and hope she'd found the right place.