Common

She becomes aware of someone approaching, but can't bring herself to lift her head and meet their eyes. A gaping emptiness in her heart has swallowed up any desire for conversation, so maybe if she just keeps her head down and acts like she isn't aware of their eyes on her nothing will become of this after all--

Hello.

But she can't ignore a greeting directly spoken to her. Reluctantly, Luma lifts her head and finally lets herself look at the stallion. Isn't he quick at noticing a new face on this island? She's only just arrived and here he is already. Of course she sees his gaze sweeping over her--they're always so obvious about it, aren't they?--but no anger flickers up in her heart. No disgust or even exasperation at the same interaction she's seen happen to a dozen other mares back home.

Instead loss's greedy sinkhole grows ever deeper. "Hello," Luma responds softly, acutely aware of the slight rasp prolonged disuse has brought to her voice. I don't talk like this. They used to speak to even strangers with cheery, relaxed confidence, happy to make a new friend or fall for some stallion's sweet words. But now that it's she and not they, Luma feels oddly exposed facing this stranger without a spotted shoulder to lean on and Rhyme's companionship to bolster her.

Her eyes drop away again to a little dandelion by the stallion's hooves. Eye contact is too much for her nerves now, it seems. "... Can I help you?" Luma can't get over how awkward and out of place it sounds. She'd always let Rhyme start the conversation, jumping in and adding more when the opportunity arose and as she grew more comfortable. There was a good reason for that. Every minute she spends in front of this stallion reminds her of how strange of an experience it is not to have someone else take over when she doesn't know what to say.