Ferro smelled company before anything else, the distinct scent of male perforating his fleshy nostrils, alerting him of the stranger before anything else did. His lip curls upwards and his head tilts back, allowing him a deeper grasp of the foreign scents of the forest and the stranger. The flehmen response to the scents is short lived as he swaggers forth, his relaxed carriage and cool gaze exuding a sense of frigid serenity, though the stallion always did remain alert and focused- able to defend himself easily should anything happen. Ferro was akin to a man with a loaded gun, threatening, but only truly deadly when he deemed necessary. He made no move to search for the stranger that lurked out of view, assuming that he was of no danger if he wasn't actively attacking him.. or rather, attempting to do so.
It is then that the optics of the beast move imperceptibly upwards, catching sight of the stallion onward. He was meager and lanky, built like a boy rather than a man. Halting, Ferro's head rises in acknowledgment of the unveiled stranger, revealing how tall the 17.1hh beast was in actuality- his muscles bulging beneath his velvet fur as he did so. Though this undoubtedly revealed how brawny the man truly was, it did not seem to imply that the Akhal-Teke before him in any (immediate) risk. The stag was simply analyzing his company from a higher perspective, grasping promptly onto how stunted his growth seemed. Pony, his mind affirmed abruptly before his massive cranium, well-defined with angular cheekbones and a sharp jaw, reverted to a more convenient position fractionally lower than it had been a mere ten seconds ago.
With great steps, Ferro sought to close the distance between his company and himself, his fleshy roman snout jutting out towards the lanky equine before him as an attempted greeting. His nostrils quiver as his muzzle withdraws after hanging in the air for only a fleeting moment. "Ciao, piccola oscurità," he offered, his words thick and husky, rolling off of his tongue in a timbre of warmth, the melodic harmonies distinctly foreign. Despite the sing-song quality of his communication, it retained a masculine property through its baritone delivery.
Ferro notices everything- from the minute scars forming the pattern of a wing on his back, the faintly gleaming marking that makes up for the incomplete marking, the greaves shielding his slender cannon bones from medical maladies, the darkness of his eyes, to even the gently glowing ornament that drapes around his slender neck. He regards all of the sounds of the forest, from the eerie lustrous eyes that watch for brief moments from the shadows before disappearing accompanied by the din of shuffling leaves to even the tender breeze that glides through the timber. He recognizes every minor and major detail, his ears continually twisting back and forth.
"Sono Ferro." His voice was certain, an undeniable sound that was confident and steadfast. "I am Ferro," he translated, not for his own convenience, but for the convenience of his company that he doubt spoke his language (few he had met in his lifetime of wandering since leaving his home did).
"."
Ferro
the kind of frigid not measured in temperature
a cold-hearted man was once a man that once cared too much.
The Portal
