Meadow

Despite Ingrid's focus being firmly on the stallion that she sought, she couldn't help but appreciate Tempest's comment regarding the rain and she lapsed into thoughtful silence. She couldn't really get behind the type of rain that just fell in abysmal and depressing sheets, but there was something inherently powerful in watching a storm roll in, especially if you were able to view it come in over the ocean.

Granted, it was better if you weren't in the ocean at the time.

Ingrid didn't linger on thoughts of the rain for much longer, as the pretty golden mare was quick to respond to her inquiries of the foul-mouthed stranger that she sought. It had occurred to Ingrid that others might hear of her search, but she was also entirely certain that Grímúlfur was aware that he was being sought. A man like him did not reach such a lofty position without being aware of when he was being tracked and followed… nor could he possibly have hoped to get away with what he had done.

You're the first I've met on this island, the mare admits and Ingrid looks at her anew in surprise. Where she was from, newcomers were rare and valued for the news and information that they brought in their wake. To be in the company of another recent transplant was intriguing and she wondered if this was what the omen-man had meant in explaining that this was a place of gathering. Her golden friend then goes on to admit that she didn't much care for mouthy individuals and Ingrid's lips twitch as she does her best to suppress a smile.

She had been called much the same for most of her life.

"Ingrid," she answers promptly to the offering of her name, and her lips give up suppressing her smile. "The fascination with the rain makes sense now."

Tempest then moves on to bring up a rather valid point about her search and Ingrid snorts, feeling a mite foolish and therefore defensive. Her gaze casts outward as she considers what little she knows of him. In truth, as much as she had been chosen for this search, she had also volunteered for the simple pleasure of seeing somewhere new. She loved and missed her home, but there were only so many rocky wind-swept beaches one could look at before they began to look similar. So when it came to knowing her quarry as well as she was supposed to… well, she had room for improvement.

"Well, you have a point," she admitted before turning back to look at her companion again, gaze narrowed. "Or two."

Her tail flicked limply against her hocks before she elaborated on what little she knew of her quarry. "He has a scar, just there," she says while gesturing to just below Tempest's eye. "And his mane and tail are dark… I think."

Eventually, she shrugs, and paces along for a moment. "The gods will take me to him eventually. But it would be much faster if he left some sort of trail." Again the petite woman snorted derisively before deciding to make some sort of conversation that was not wholly centered on herself. "Vhat about you, Tempest. What brings you here, to this gathering place, in the ill-viðri?"