The coldest place in Beqanna did not attract many visitors; but she had said live, not stay, and so he takes an occasional trip. After all, not all kinds of help that he could give, were about surviving ice. Heck, most his gifts were suitable for many other things instead.

He roams the borders; he does not hide his passing but he also does not call out for residents. It is not very different for the mare who visits Loess as he reaches it, as well: her hooves are loud and clear, as well as the sunlight on her body. His own reflects in the evening just as much, though his radiance is white and glitters with the cold he has adapted to.

He greets her with a nicker, and looks around for other residents, making it clear that he’s not from this land either with a subtle way of stance - confident that he is allowed to visit, but not arrogant in the way that kings or even guards hold themselves.

Though honestly he always had been one of the latter in some way, and old habits die hard - they die almost as hard as himself.

Looking the pretty mare over, he comments. ”You look more like a brilliant night sky to me,” he shrugs. ”I take it you’re visiting Loess as well?”

The sparkly-pretty mare knows how to take a compliment, even if it comes in a wrap of humor and dismissal. He nods to her, though tilts his head when she says she has ‘agreed to live here’. ”I hope you like crowds,” he muses dryly, letting his attention for her fade to check their surroundings. ”And salt-water cacti.”

He shrugs a little, replacing his weight as the unnaturally beautiful tobiano mare joins them. Her eyes betray her age - close to his and the new recruit’s - but there’s something about the lines of her face, the trace of her shoulders, that makes him pause. It’s familiar in a way, so perhaps she is related to someone he knows.

She speaks as if she’s a resident, and yet, she smells more of the sea than of the Loessian climate. That’s more than interesting. The scaled roan tilts his head at her, thinking it over - that he hasn’t seen her before, mostly - then looks back to the purplish mare as she introduces herself. ”Name’s Leilan,” he adds, ”I specialize in harassing Castile these days - like it’s inevitable every time I near Loess, and so I haven’t seen a lot of it for a long time. You two make a welcome change of scenery.” he tells them, as if that’s all small talk. It’s true that the last time he went any further than the border must be nearly 10 years ago, even though he recently visited twice. And that time hadn’t been too great either, seeing as Arthas had stolen him then. And recently… once it coincided with Lepis, making the experience not as happy as hoped, and the second time he was only here, just to nicely rephrase Jesper’s request that Castile meet him in the North due to his leg having shattered in a battle just prior.

Honestly, one might conclude he was fated never to really enjoy Loess. Even now, he had a mission in the back of his mind, though it did not seem like anyone around here really needed anything at the moment.

The pretty purple mare responds to his comment - which had in his opinion not needed a response at all - with a lecture. Whoops. Of all things in the world, lectures were the worst! Thankfully, she keeps it short.

So, he makes an indifferent sound at her words about why crowds are good (he doesn’t like them, obviously - and there’s plenty to learn in the world without needing to get involved with some fifty horses, if you made sure you kept up with the right ones); he’s more interested in why the black-and-white mare is somewhat familiar, even though he is certain he never saw her before.

That problem is solved when the Loessian ruler arrives; putting one and one together, it is obvious they are related. A low chuckle follows, though he does not comment immediately on the dragon shifter’s dry humour. After all, it’s somewhat true. Though he probably overthinks his coming and going - Leilan doesn’t entirely plan ahead nor picks much of a purpose before heading somewhere. Life is more fun, more unpredictable, that way.

Anything, not to get bored and lonely.

”A pleasure to meet you, Isobell, Oceane.” Sure he can be polite, to those who are to him. He lets Castile greet the mare a moment, thinking perhaps if this is a new recruit he does have a bad timing for coming by today - but she throws him a sassy comment and he can’t help but grin at her when she does, emerald orbs twinkling. ”Any other day I’d say my sole purpose in this world is to add a bit of spice to this sauce, but I see you have it covered.” He then turns his now aqua-coloured gaze on the king of the country. ”You know, visiting friends is a thing, even for monarchs. Since you don’t come to me, I come to you when it suits me.” After all, it never suits Castile so there is no difference to be found there.

A small movement of his shoulder. ”Been meaning to ask, how are you holding up? I know our last exchange was brief, but haven’t seen much of Loess for a decade or so. Surely things have changed here since Arthas?” Or perhaps not, he muses - the land must be the same, and leadership might have changed, but Loess is still mentioned by the gossipers, and the stories aren’t so unfamiliar. Funny how most of Beqanna’s lands haven’t changed a lot over the years, he muses. Same song, only perhaps played in a different key.

But the fact is that he always gets intercepted at the border and always gets asked why he’s here, in a tone that suggests he’s not very welcome. And perhaps that is what pulls him back, what makes him keep coming. If only to prove them wrong, maybe? He doesn’t really know. Perhaps not having much of a family left, had set him adrift as well. He’s not opposed to that lifestyle, as he’d always wandered without settling before Brennen actually had a purpose for him. But even then… itchy hooves, he thinks, are both a blessing and a curse.

Though he also starts to wonder why so many horses think he’s a threat. Perhaps that’s why he asked the fairy for a change… or continued transformation… well, whatever. It’s not important right now.