An arctic gust lifts her inky dreads off of her refined nape. Not even late Spring could soften the harshness of the Isle. Jesla stands atop a barren knoll. Her jagged hooves leave no impression in the permafrost, though the film of soot is disturbed. She shifts her weight restlessly, as if impatiently waiting for the arrival of, well, anyone. Someone. Jesla yearns for more than the life she leads. She has grown bored of the quiet shufflings and cold nights. Her father had ventured beyond the protection of the icy waters. He spoke cautiously of the mainland. She has been content to heed his warning, until now. A curiosity sparks in her mint green gaze and her trademark, bronze-tipped lobes point towards the northern corner of Nerine. All she has to do is swim; swim through freezing cold, thick with chunks of ice, water. None of that sounded appealing. Not even for the promise that awaits her on the other side.

The appaloosa, with the mint-spotted blanket upon her rump, continues to watch the shoreline of her birthplace. Perhaps, she can muster the appearance of someone just by envisioning him, or her. Her mint gaze focuses, steadily, upon the welcome mat for the Isle. Occasionally, her bright orbs glance up to the sky, just in case an arrival is made upon a pair of wings. Jesla surmises that, if she had wings, she would be long gone. What else would prevent her from leaving the nest? Leilan had things under control. Jesper is home, safe and sound (not that she can really prevent him from wandering off). Her musings halt as the flutter of white wings catch her eye. She stands, enamored by the grace and power of the appendages. Unsure if all of her waiting is finally paying off, Jesla watches as, what she can only hope is, the magnificence unfolds before her.

@[Gale]

There is little sun today as smoky grey clouds extend across the sky. Even in the indirect light, Gale's white feathers are a blinding hue. Jesla watches as his wings gracefully guide the pegasus to land. Her gaze flits a moment to the second creature with wings; however, her interest quickly returns to the visitor when the bird flies out of view. The mint-spotted appaloosa does her best to not seem high-strung despite her excitement. She lowers her poll from its on-guard post, her bronze-tipped lobes remain pricked, and her mint green gaze is bright. Her body language is soft as she eyes him with curiosity. Jesla smiles softly as he apologizes and frantically backs away.

"There is no need to apologize. I am hypervigilant these days. I saw you coming and wanted to be the first face you met. I didn't mean to startle you." Jesla does not make any attempt to add distance between them. Perhaps, being isolated on the Isle leads to inappropriate behavior when socializing? So far, she is zero for two with first impressions: crowding the guest and letting her mouth run away with her. The appy reminds herself that her father taught her much of what she knows. She sighs, and settles into a less excited stance. She wants him to stick around, after all. There is no need to scare him off with her overbearing-ness.

Jesla catches his name. Gale. She sounds it out a few times before realizing he had inquired about hers. Reminding herself not to get too carried away, Jesla addresses him. "I am Jesla. Where do you call home, Gale?" Her sensitive olfactories detect traces of damp sand, salt, and lush, tropical flora. His pelt is sleek and shiny, further evidence of living someplace warm. Gale sports a dark blue color with interesting cream stripes across his neck and barrel. (If Jesla had met more Beqannians, she may recognize that those stripes are family trademark, having met Gale's mother briefly. As it were, she does not make the connection, and simply observes them to be a fairly common marking.) His mane is stark white, like his wings, and stands straight up, following his spine all the way from poll to tail. His locks blend into his tail smoothly, which is also pure white. Below his ears, stem two, small, tightly curled horns. In contrast, Jesla is much more plain. Her pelt is winterized and, solid black, except for the white blanket, with mint dots, over her croup. The tips of her ears are bronze, as well. She has no horns, wings or, iridescent shine by drab comparison.

Jesla stands comfortably before Gale. Her excited energy is channeled into listening, closely, to his reply. Islandres? Where was that in Beqanna? He is chief?! Oh, he wants to know about the Isle. That is boring! Jesla is half inclined to tell him her thoughts on his request but, instead, she remembers her diplomacy training. Her mint gaze searches his face and, just as she is about to respond, she is struck.

Not physically struck. At least not that she could tell. Gale is standing in the same spot. No one else is around. There are no chunks of ice, tree branches, rocks, or other debris around either.

Jesla is struck by an enveloping wave of warmth. A warmth that emanates from her heart, fills her chest, and then, extends along the ventral surface of her neck and barrel until it floods all of her. She feels flush. She feels a renewed pulse course through every sinewy fiber, as if she is waking from a very deep slumber. The daylight around her seems more yellow in hue; warmer, even if the clouds have not cleared. The Spring breeze feels milder as it brushes across her pelt. The water, off of the coast, seems a brighter blue, as opposed to the navy-black it usually seemed. The energy is invigorating and, just as quickly as she had settled, the spotted mare shifts her weight. She locks her gaze upon the navy blue and perlino pegasus. There is a sparkle in her light green eyes and a warm smile on her dark lips. With confidence, she steps closer to the stud. She lifts her poll and arches her neck as her soft muzzle extends to ever-so-gently, bump his. When she speaks, her voice is warm and alluring. "I apologize if my manners seem less cordial or, are, in any way, inappropriate for a chief. After the attack on the Isle, I have kept a very close watch on the coast and the skies."

Jesla pauses briefly to allow a warm breath to exhale upon his whiskers. The sensation would hopefully distract the male. She retracts her muzzle, perhaps, leaving him wanting more, and addresses his business query. "I was born here so, I know the Isle well. Of course, so does Leilan. He is our Freyr. There is also Sabrina, the second-in-command. Icicle Isle residents are pretty independent so, there is not much in the way of inner workings of diplomacy. We can seek our leaders for advice, but this rugged domain requires you to be resourceful and self-sufficient."

The blanket appy steps forward again, a curious brightness to her gaze. Her body language is relaxed, supple and, subconsciously, seductive. She searches Gale's features in hope that they will provide answers to her longing; however, finding none, she decides to ask him. "Honestly, Gale, I have longed to venture off of this spit of ice. I would love to see more of the world. Until now, I have not had the courage to do it. Would you allow me to accompany you back to your home? I am so curious as to what else is out there and, I feel as though I can trust you. Will you be my escort?" Jesla knows that Gale is her ticket out of here. The question is, does Gale feel mutual about all of this?
@[Gale]

The appy feels relief when @[Gale] does not shy away from her touch. She does not fully understand this new wave of emotion. She does know that she wants to be around Gale; near him and with him. She wants to get to know him. She wants to know everything about him, and yet, knowing him will not matter because it will not alter this strong desire. Her steps away, though made to look diplomatic, are a result of uncertainty that this is real. Jesla second guesses the male's interest. Any doubt soon melts away as the navy blue pegasus steps into her touch. Their muzzles press into one another and, Jesla feels the warmth of his breath upon her jawline. She utters a soft sigh and leans into his embrace. In her mind, Gale's actions affirm that he wants this, too, and Jesla is both ecstatic and relieved. She discovers a new sense of strength in knowing that their energies sync so easily. He feeds off of her vibrance, and she is invigorated by his interest. She steps closer to the brindle stud until her whiskered plush brushes his cheek. Her gaze meets his with honesty and affection; her light green irises a warmer, brighter shade of mint.

She listens as Gale agrees to escort her off the Isle. His description of "sunshine and starfruits" is enough to charm her. Jesla finds her eyes closing as she imagines the warm sun upon her back and Gale by her side. She leans into him even further before realizing that he has invited her to see it. She opens her gaze, slowly so that her long-lashes linger, and finds his bright blues, again. Her voice is so soft that her words escape at a volume just above a whisper. "Oh yes, Gale! Please take me to Islandres."