[open] cause I'm so dope and you're a fiend

[Famkee]

Famkee doesn't particularly want to wake him, her plan was not to startle him and if she's lucky, slink by without a second look. Though he's not startled, he's aware of her now and that's all she could ask for as the stallion begins to stir from his odd choice of slumber. He must not be very wise, taking a snooze in the open like this, nor have much feeling in his body to think of hard boulders a comfort sought after. Her ears still bury themselves crudely inside her mane, lost in the long ebony tendrils gently following the winds will along the muscled curve of her shoulder. The stud takes a tedious look at her horn, and for a moment, she wants to puff out her chest, straighten her legs and crane her neck, proud of the gift she was bestowed. Although he looks as though he's never even seen a horned being, and Famkee also wonders if he's seen any other species before, whether winged or finned,  hybrids of all shapes and sizes. In fact, despite what her parents, and lineage alike taught her growing up, Famkee thinks of herself quite plain comparatively. The rising sun guides the glow of her eyes, like she was staring into the fiery ball of gas and channeling it's energy as the glowing radiance blossoms up the expanse of her horn and stopping there, lighting up the shadows and casting it's warmth across her face. She has yet to harness the meaning of this ability, as it becomes more prevalent the older she gets. 

He rises to his feet rather awkwardly as she stops to take in his frame. He looks a bit taller, with an interesting color scheme, though Famkee has just about seen it all she doesn't find it odd, she continues to observe the grayness of his eyes, the body language he displays. She finds herself taking a few steps back once he's fully stood, teeth clenched tightly together, bodice readily prepared. She doesn't expect his voice, tentative as it is breaking the silence. 'Miss' what is she, her grandmother? Her eyes beg to roll clean into the back her skull, yet they stay forwards, intently so. 'Would you mind telling me where the hell i am?' She wants to chuckle, Famkee wishes she knew that herself. A smirk does manage to lure it's way onto velvet lips, slyly curving the mares mouth. "Do you always sleep in the open? Or better yet, on hardened stone." She couldn't fathom either, but before she answered his uninvited question, she couldn't help the curiosity looming behind a tongue with little to no filter. He couldn't have stumbled across someone more of a virgin to these lands, and she has limited information to offer, being so new herself. How could he be of use to her when he doesn't seem local, if anything, more lost than her. Briefly she thinks of Malik, the hybrid black stallion she had met of Hyaline, a land lost to the hungry bottomless sea. Should she even entertain him, tell him what little she does know? 
What if he's seen him, what if he knows.
Her intrusive thoughts make way and push to the front of her mind, though she can't muster the strength to ask just yet, watching him closely, seeing how he's to respond to her crack at poking the sleepy giant.  

if my heart is in your hands will i die

Famkee

@Hackjob