Common

Isla couldn't help but giggle quietly at his rejoinder, her bright eyes glittering with shared mischief. His quiet warmth and playfulness reminded her of her auntie Pidgeon, and she couldn't help but feel herself drawn towards him, just a little. It felt, strangely, a bit like finding a piece of her family even though she was certain that the 17 hand hunk was not the least bit related to either of her petite parents.

"Ori," she echoed with a smirk, drawing out the sound of his name. It made her inordinately pleased to hear that his name was even shorter than hers, although she knew that this observation made no rational sense. Teasingly, she tossed his words back at him, "now that's a real mouthful. Too many syllables for the average lass. Should stick tae calling yerself O, short for oh-hey-there-cutie."

Despite the taunt in her words, there was no meanness in her body or voice. She was having a delightful time, even if this was most certainly not getting her any closer to the Thicket. Bemused, she watched as the heavily muscled stallion shivered in the chill air, and found herself oddly thankful for the thick coat granted to her by her parents. Of course, she wouldn't mind trading some of her body fluff for the luscious mane and tail Ori had, but she doubted the gods would be up to such swapping. Unprompted, her mind provided other ways in which they might share their respective strengths and she flushed beneath the red fur of her cheeks.

Isla had never enjoyed that particular dance with a stallion, but she'd seen enough to know how it went and the thought of cuddling up to the dark stallion with his opalescent shine held more allure than she had thought it would. Unbidden, an image of the sharp contrast between near-black against muted-pinks, the splay of his long mane over white fur, the security of being wrapped in such a strong embrace.

"Mm?" She half-hummed, half-coughed in answer at first, flustered by the direction of her thoughts. A moment later her brain (reluctantly) caught up to the conversation and she dragged in a steadying breath as she looked away, more glad than she had ever been that mindreaders were only imaginary. Glancing back, she attempted that same casual tone she'd employed earlier, although it sounded strained to her ears. "Aye, family," she echoed, and tried not to think of creating her own.

Despite years of practice, it had grown, suddenly, quite difficult.

"I grew up in the Thicket wi' my ma and Auntie Pidgeon." She glanced in the general direction of Luthien appraisingly and then looked back at Ori, glad to feel some of her original composure returning. Luthien hadn't held all of her childhood, but it had been the last place that she'd lived. Isla had only narrowly missed being born on Tinuvel, and had spent her formative years chasing crabs up and down Paradise's beaches. "I dinna ken if they still live there, but I reckon I'm a wee bit overdue fer a visit."

Comfortable once more, Isla grinned again and tossed another compliment his way... just to see the look on his face. "Me mam can wait a wee bit tho, if'n it means I can look at ye a while longer." And then, because the thought of her mother meeting Ori almost made her want to break into giggles, "I'd take ye home with me, but I'm 'fraid my mam would eat ye alive for being too pretty."

Which, while funny, was also probably the truth.

Grier's experience with stallions in general had been pretty hit or miss, and she had spent long hours ranting about the dangers a stallion with a pretty face brought. Stallions are trouble, Grier had said, and the prettier they are, the more they think they can get away with.

"What is it your here for?" She asked sweetly, a devilish little smile on her lips.