12-21-2015, 02:30 PM
Mares were uncommon but not unheard of in the stallions’ land. Usually there were never more than four of them at a time, more like two at any given moment and they were favored by one bachelor or another - as lovers, if inclined to romantic thought which Roan typically wasn't. The rest were sisters or daughters raised on the sparse cold tit of land and usually traded during kingdom negotiations to strengthen alliances or dumped unceremoniously on the jungle’s humid border. These were all fates Roan had been spared and yes, she had traveled for some reason or another but the tundra was home - always would be to her.
The little mare expects a territorial confrontation; she has squared her little self up to look unintimidating but also to show her own foolish brand of bravery. Roan will not let them scare her from her home or the old smell of her father that blows in on the chill wind. She has some right to be here after all, a long lost princess of the realm returned to them though she has no head for silly titles like that - she was quite simply Ianto’s daughter and came back to find him or word of him. So to say that she had need of wings or ought to have turned back when faced with the ice wall is simply silly - Roan knew the way in and better than most since she had to track the entrance by smell rather than see it for herself.
Unsurprisingly, the blind meets the blind. She smells him long before the snowy ground crunches underfoot and betrays his presence to her. Her head swings blindly in his immediate direction as she breathes in his scent; he is not familiar to her but then, most of the stallions were not even in her father's time because she kept to herself - conscious of the scars from her time spent in the acidic womb beside a twin she doesn't know of (sometimes, in that way that twins have, she senses that she is half of herself more than a whole thing and that there is much missing from her) that left her barren in places and furred in others but her pelt has grown in and the scars mix with the roan of her so that they're hardly visible now. He does smell less of the tundra and more of somewhere else, so that tells her that he is new.
She tilts her head to the side quizzically as he asks who her father is; Roan doesn't expect him to know - he's new. “Ianto, he is king here - no, was…” she amends swiftly, face scrunched up as her blind eyes just stare uselessly. Not once has she wished to see because her father described everything to her but his scent is so old now! “His smell is old though. I don't think he's king any more.” she acknowledges, a note of melancholy in her voice but not so much at the fact that Ianto wasn't king, merely that he wasn't there to greet her.