Meadow

She seems, at least on the surface, receptive to Emhyr's attentions, her head tilting to the side. The gesture reminds him of a wolf pup - inquisitive and unassuming. But Emhyr has learned not to underestimate wolves, no matter their size, and finds himself wondering if there is something else, something sharper and more inclined towards aggression, hiding beneath her pretty face. Perhaps, given time, he would find the answer. But as it is, he takes her at face value, and allows himself to see only a mild-mannered mare standing before him.

"Indeed," he intones, pausing to sweep his eyes over the expanse of the Meadow once again. He's sure there must be others lingering nearby, tucked away within the trees or lounging on the shores of the beach some ways off, but as of this moment, there is barely a soul to be seen. Emhyr swings his dark eyes back to the mare's face. "It's not usually so empty, at least in the few times I've been here before. I hope you didn't come looking for a party." A teasing smile tilts the corners of his lips upwards. He, too, has never been great at small talk - he never knows what to say, and more often than not the words get tangled in his throat and on his tongue. What might be meant as a teasing quip comes out too flat, too serious, or altogether wrong.

And being in the presence of a beautiful mare never helps, either. Sometimes, when he speaks to Eythora or Vhagar, he still feels like an awkward colt, unsure of what to say. He feels that way now, standing before the ivory-haired mare, a soft heat rising beneath the dark hair on his cheeks, his thoughts such a whirlwind in his mind that it is difficult to pick out any single one and present it to her.

"But perhaps, like me, you find solace in the empty spaces. Is that what has drawn you here, or did you simply find yourself here by accident?" The question emerges from his lips before he has a chance to truly inspect it, to overthink and overanalyze and wonder if it is appropriate to ask.