Angels fall from the sky, I rise from the bottom.

Maybe not.

He felt his heart sink a little when he took a step back to get a better view, but soon threw the hope of seeing snow fall from the skies. You never know how much you miss something, until you don't have it and he did indeed miss the snow and cold more than anything. It had always made him feel at home, even though he was born far from the snow covered peaks he later had laid claim to. He almost gave in to a sigh, had not someone spoken so sweetly to steal his attention.

Turning slightly, he laid milky eyes upon the mare, letting the silence claim some time so he could properly look at her. And she was a beauty. Having experience with her kind, he did not haste nor come across as rude while staring. She was smaller than him (they all were), but he saw that she was not one of those who lacked height. Wings were neatly folded and her hair matched his in color. With a shine in her pelt he had never seen before, it was impossible not to notice the wound and what she left behind. She must have pissed off someone very powerful to deserve that - or she was cursed like him.

Finally he gave a slight dip with his head, as to acknowledge her presence. "It is an old language called Throkkir." A faint smile followed his words, something he rarely shared with strangers, but which seemed to be suitable in this situation. He kept his focus on her as she dared to come closer, before he threw it up towards the heavens as he had done not long ago. "Then you don't have a vivid imagination." Not thinking it was too harsh to say, a glimpse of playfulness and teasing could be spotted on his features as he looked at her again. "That doesn't look comfortable."

@Castiella