She's got the devil's eyes
The loud crack echoes through the chilly, early winter air, and, suddenly, she is there. One moment nothing but emptiness, the next a woman of pewter blue laced with white stands before her. One blink, one bare glance away is all it would have taken. It’s not often she does this, but she had found her curiosity overcome, and so here she stands. There is history in this stranger’s skin, a story in her eyes. One that greatly intrigues the blue mare.
To look at, Heartfire is nothing terribly spectacular. Her coloration is pleasant enough, but rather uninspired in a land that boasts countless equine sporting the entire rainbow and then some. Her frame is narrow, angular, with faintly feminine curves. She is neither particularly attractive nor unattractive. Bland, in a way.
The only thing that truly stands out, the thing that sets her apart from countless others, is the unusually sharp, bright blue of her eyes. They are undeniable, impossible to miss, seeming both unreadable and far too knowing as they gleam from the still, pleasantly neutral mask of her features.
“Hello,” she greets almost idly after a moment of thick silence. She had never been inclined to fill such silences with unnecessary chatter. Never been terribly inclined to make any attempt to set others at ease. No, she rather enjoys the unnerving quality of her stare and confusion her abbreviated conversational skill might bring.
“Neverwhere, is it?” she continues, ignoring the niceties that might prompt her to ask questions to which she could already find the answer. No, information is easy for her. What intrigues her far more is thought. One of the few things she doesn’t have access to (a relief, no doubt, to the many who know her). “Hmm, interesting.”
and they'll cut you like a weapon