there's no religion that could save me
no matter how long my knees are on the floor
i'll pick up these broken pieces 'til i'm bleeding
if that'll make it right
It is in this state of mind which the yearling finds the woman and the man. Or rather, they find him. Although the colt is by no means small - no, he will grow to be a titan, looming at seventeen hands, though for now he is an even fifteen - he finds that this kingdom easily swallows him whole. So while he overhears what they say, they might not perhaps notice his arrival. For today, his ego doesn't stretch beyond his person.
"It's the Tundra. The only fucking crazy thing here is the king." His voice comes out rather cynical, aided by the somber expression he wears. Due to the three feet of snow which surrounds them all - except Kratos, the resident electricity pole - the colt's bark-stockings are invisible. Feeling rather regular before the ice-armor lady with snowflakes in her eyelashes and the stallion who apparently doesn't know how the Tundra's environment works because he's practically lightning, Nihlus summons his powers.
Snowflakes gently tumble from feather-light clouds, dancing through each horses' pelt elegantly. "You look beautiful with snowflakes in your eyelashes," He says earnestly to the Percheron hybrid, looking up into his gaze with a small smile which foreshadows a chaotic grin, though it subsides this time. "Though the ice is a bit much on you... Are you cold to the touch?" When he speaks, it sounds nothing like what a yearling should. His voice is completely serious, his glowing blue eyes somber, his stance almost political. He is young of body but not of mind. Stepping towards the woman, Nihlus gently and quickly bumps his nose to her shoulder. Another tiny, collected smile graces his darkly handsome features. "You are."
Removing himself from her personal space, the colt regards the two evenly. "I'm Nihlus by the way. Noori's firstborn son."