12-21-2015, 08:47 PM
She has kept to herself since coming back; well, aside from the lukewarm welcome she received from the one stallion who smelled like here but not really (even if his scent was becoming more prolific on the air). The little mare doesn't mind being all alone in the vastness of such a harsh unforgiving land - she rather likes it, it is as rugged and challenging a place as any could be and she welcomes the trials and tribulations it presents to her. Maybe she would think otherwise if she wasn't blind and could see how devastatingly bleak the tundra really was, except that she thought it wonderfully frigid and downright homey but that's because she was born and raised here.
The cold nips at her heels and she leaves her lonesome ways and thoughts behind to move closer to the places they've been known to gather in. She's in search of company without really knowing why when she's so used to being on her own but apparently she is feeling the need to hear others speak, breathe, and generally exist. Sometimes, the tundra makes you feel really small and aware of how you fit into the grand scheme of things just through the sheer scale of ice and snow and coldcoldcold, brrrrr. Roan shiver-shakes a step or two as she nears a clearing and smells a stranger. Well, he definitely doesn't smell like here or the other stallions she's scented on the air.
She smells Brynmor, having only recently met him herself but he was an oddly affable sort once he let down his guard. The little roan mare offers him a friendly nicker of greeting - both of them really. She listens to Brynmor talk before saying anything at all; “Hello, I'm Roan and you should definitely join the brothers here - it's too quiet.” Sometimes, she could be a little forward but she smiles all the same to them. It's not her business if the newcomer will stay or not but it would be nice to smell (since she cannot see, the euphemism would otherwise be silly) new life breathed into the icy wastes.