’Neither…’ came the calm reply of the red sand mare that stared back at her with green eyes devoid of emotion or fear. Despite the reassurance, Nyimara still meets her emerald gaze with suspicion in her own dark eyes, mahogany colored ears tilting back and forth amid the silver white tendrils of her own mane. Lines of age are clearly marked on the stranger’s face. Despite this, still lean muscle that always came with a hard loner life is evident in each curve and contour of the mare’s champagne figure.
’Only a ghost….’ the voice is almost wistful in its delivery and does much to still the suspicion in her stance and Nyimara relaxes as much as the uptight mare ever managed to do. A single flute tilts backwards as a smirk slides across her ash dusted lips. ”And what are ghosts but wraiths in disguise?” she purrs, a light chuckle following suit as her long neck is given a shake, her pale mane snapping audibly against her dark neck. A single forelimb lifts, kicking aside a pebble at her feet. ”Though I suppose every land has its own angry wraiths wandering around…” she muses more to herself than to the stranger. Pale lashes blink as she glances over the woman again, ”Yet even ghosts must be named least they disappear. What is it you are called and why have you come to haunt my home?” she inquires, her unusually long tail flicking idly against her supple hip.
OOC: sorry its short. Next will be longer.