'I find family is always surprisingly fickle.' The dunalino bobs her head in a nod for his sake. Her own family was remarkably close-knit, though that had likely stemmed from the sudden death of her father. Her mother had been hard-pressed to raise the girls somewhere safe by herself after Diomedes had died, but the bay paint had done remarkably well in her eyes. 'They should have made it easy for you to find them.' One ear twisted to splay sideways as Dior thought about it. Her family wasn't made of wanderers, but maybe his was. She would give him the benefit of the doubt.
The tobiano turned her head away from the stallion as he took a step from her. The afternoon sun played with the faint dun stripes that stretched along her cheekbones. A soft huff vibrated her pale nostrils, but she did not leave. This sabino before her intrigued the young mare, much as Toland had when they had first met and gone to the Forest. When he asked for the names of her mother and sister, the painted mare turned her blue eyes back to the stallion. The warning tugs again in her mind, and once more she ignores it.
"Vogue," the dunalino says softly. A shred of doubt, of mistrust, lingers behind her eyes. "And Versace.. my sister." However, the pretty maiden hesitates to give out her own name, and she didn't understand why. For now, Dior supposes she'll keep it to herself, in case he displayed something to encourage the doubt that lingered unbidden in her mind.