The mostly-white male eyes his assumed niece curiously - if she isn’t Wen’s child he’d be really weirded out by the likeness. Before he can continue to question the yearling however, she skeptically continues her own line of questioning, which results in an amused snort, trying not to burst into outright laughter over her fear - honestly he probably failed in giving the impression he takes her seriously, as his emerald green eyes look at her with obvious amusement. ”If I were gonna eat you, I’d picked a different shape and you’d be gone...” he eyes the distance they crossed over the moors, ”At about one-fifth the distance you just ran. Maybe.” He shrugs, though the twinkle in his eye doesn't leave when he eyes the girl. ”You are Eurwen’s, aren’t you?” Had he been her older brother, perhaps he would have known how similar they were - rather timid girls, but not going down without a fight. But Aodhán had been a year her younger, and only looked up to his sister, coming back with those stories about the fae. It had actually encouraged him to seek them out when they called people to the Resort for the shells; his blue marking reminds him of the fact every time he assumed his most-natural shape, of the horse he should be without the shifting trait.
His eyes scan the Nerinian scape, finally noticing a shape in the distance who surely came to see what the spotted girl had been screaming about. ”Ah. Maybe they’re actually willing to talk, instead of run.” he chuckles at the mint-green haired young lady, tail moving leisurely, relaxed - it’s all quite a big joke to him, but he does remember what he came for in the first place- to talk about this Roz figure with his sister, and warn her as well, as the mare might be dangerous in some way. Looking back up as the figure closes in, he sighs. Not Eurwen, still. What is she doing?
from the ashes a fire shall be woken