The kingdom she hailed from was organized like a military. Everyone knew their place and had to earn their way into a desirable situation. Where you born was where you were born unless you were willing to fight your way out--or, like Carpathia, you were born into a fateful king's year. But, she supposed, you had to fight your way out of that one too. But that meant that there wasn't much shuffling of herd members, and there were rarely strangers on the island that needed to be claimed. You grew up where you born until you were traded to another faction. The equines there did not often get the chance to meet new friends--or foes, for that matter.
The half-golden mare knew not all lands were like that, so she shouldn't have been surprised to find that this was neutral ground when she failed to catch a prominent scent. Here equines came and went at quite the clip, she could tell. But before she could consider whether someone might notice her presence, someone did.
It brought her a strange comfort to see that the stallion was painted like herself. There weren't many of her back home--the equines on the island looked more like nymphs with their blue-black coats the color of the ocean at night. Carpathia wasn't ignorant of her beauty, but she did sometimes resent the way she drew attention to herself. This evening was an exception, however. As the thunder clapped, sending a chill up her spine, she found herself grateful for his kindness, though she lacked the energy to determine if it was genuine or not.
As he spoke, she lowered her head and gave it a shake, ridding herself of the excess water in her long and now tangled mane and hopefully some of her nervous energy. The truth was that she hardly considered herself "okay," but there were few things to do than carry on.
"I've had better days, she replied with honesty as she turned away from the ocean to fall into step with the stallion while remaining a safe distance away. Truthfully, she did not know if she could refuse him as they stepped towards the meadow. Though she understood claiming on an instinctual level, she did not know the customs of this new world and felt inadequate in her ignorance.
Before she could answer his question and admit her dilemma, they were joined by another in their walk to the trees. He too seemed kind, but she'd be remiss to not notice that with two of them here, if things went south she'd be at quite the disadvantage. And in one way, things did start to go south, as the skies opened up just steps before she reached tree cover. She quickened, tucking under the protection of a large tree as sleet began to pelt its branches. From under the relative cover, she finally angled towards the newcomer to address him as well:
"If these islands are called lost, I suppose I'm right where I thought I was." the mare quipped with a small, sheepish smile. She was right, then--the newly herdless mare had washed up just about right where she needed to be if she was going to have a bed this eve. One could call it luck if they weren't stuck in a storm with two strange males.
This stallion equally kind and charming addressed them both with respect, something Carp made a mental note of as her glances went from the stocky newcomer to the larger paint and back. As he complimented her, she merely dipped her head in thanks, her eyes going briefly back to the first male. A respectful challenge was still a challenge; she wondered what he might do as she offered her response.
"Rilke," she tested the name on her tongue. "My name is Carpathia. How bold of you both," she gestured to address the taller stag as well, "to come out in this storm.