Within moments of his call, he can see her darkly colored frame begin to move under the last shadows of night. The few white patches upon her body seem to almost glow in stark contrast, his eyes swiftly taking them in and burning them to memory. As she draws nearer, Tyr can also see the roundness of her belly for the life she grew within, and it made him wonder where her stallion was? The silver lashing tongue she greets him with quickly erases that thought, a chuckle nearly escaping him at her expense. If she spoke so freely with all men, it was a wonder she carried a child at all. But Tyr was not like most men, and his lips curled in a humored smirk.
“Brazen words for a pregnant mare.” he replied. “Tell me, do you have angry for breakfast? Or do you just always sleep wrong?” His multicolored eyes watched her dark face now, no longer taking in the appearance of her body. The lines upon what would have been otherwise pretty features, marred by the scowl that she wore upon her face. It matched the mood she wore like an outer coat, dripping with bitterness and distaste for what seemed the world. No soul was born that way, and Tyr quickly wondered what had brought her to be in such a state.
“You can call me Tyr, though I look forward to the other more colorful names I’m sure you’ll come up with before this conversation is over.” Nothing like a warm welcome to a strange place than being called an idiot.
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