we built this city on broken glass

It was rare in any sense that the snowy haired stallion found himself within the depths of that city. Rarer still that he found himself inclined to linger in Nadya's dance studio. Frost far less intrigued in the dance practice of children then he was in those far more graceful burlesque moves Nadya had once practiced near nightly when that studio had been bar and club in one. His very appearance in that establishment today nothing more than an act of practicality. Frost having been coerced by Nadya into moving stored furniture, props and sets out of that rear room and into a new storage space to expand the room into a smaller studio for even younger children. Why Nadya seemed content to offer classes for children who hardly danced so much as flapped and fell in circles like dilapidated little pigeons he hardly knew and yet she insisted those toddler classes were popular and that dancing could begin at any age. Nadya nothing if not committed to her task. It was almost....endearing, truly, to see the woman insist those children were trying. Nadya seeming to hold an eternal faith in her students- and her own children even when Frost himself remained assured Isabella and Micah had done little more then bounce in circles for an hour. Perhaps he was to harsh a judge. Perhaps he expected too much from them. No part of the man truly assured of how to....respond to those children as naturally as Nadya did.

The equine reached easily for that next stake of chairs then, that animalistic strength concealed well within the confines of his otherwise shorter, lean frame, that weight lifted with ease as he stepped from that room and into the man part of the studio to carry those chairs through. For several moments his violet gaze lingered upon several older children as they carried out their own class. How easily he could find the thoughts of their minds one after the other, each thought flowing into the next, each child fixated upon following that carefully planned routine. His own affinity was drawn easily away then, the minds of children hardly off great intrigue to him as that stack of chairs was placed beside the next, Frost pausing now to fish his own phone from his pocket. The man leaning agianst that stack of chairs by the door as he scrolled through those messages. Alexander had moved their training forward an hour, several more Hunters had inquired about shifting their mounts and his email folder was positively overflowing. How....irritating. Perhaps he need hire a secretary at this rate and yet his record for getting on well with those outside his own pack was notoriously poor. Anyone who had worked for him in any capacity previously hardly seeming to last very long. It was almost as if he was difficult to please.

The sudden collision of something- or someone- agianst his leg momentarily prompted his own gaze to glance downward, one violet eye peering beneath that forelock of white hair to eye the child with the equally pale locks and equally violet eyes. The girl very near a carbon copy off himself in a smaller, feminine and very....Fae package. That near squeak of an apology was barely heard atop the music of those other dancers, the girl quickly dropping her head. Frost's own hand moved suddenly then to merely catch her chin and gently tilt her head back up toward him before he realised just exactly what he was doing. His violet gaze distinctly meeting her own then with a clear intrigue of sorts. Had he...fathered a Fae child he knew nothing off? No scent of Hunter or horse clung to her figure and yet her look was uncanny. So familiar. So very, very like him has she been older, taller and in possession of shorter hair she might have passed for him entirely from behind.

"Hver ertu?"

Those Icelandic words leave his lips almost unbidden. Frost, in that moment, hardly seeming to realise he had defaulted to his natural tongue before his mind seems to realise all at once at that music had stopped. Several of those parents and children staring towards him now in some mix of confused concern as to why he had dared laid hands on a child not his own. His head merely turns, those violet eyes meeting the gaze of several of those other parents now- the vast majority of them quick to look away. Human or otherwise they all fell readily beneath the force of that dominance that came so naturally to his own Alpha-blood. His hand, however, fell gently away from the girl now as he returned his attention to her and that music started once more. He had probably...frightened her. Those cool, easy words parting his lips then in those accented tones.

"Forgive me, Small One. You surprised me. Are your parents here?"

FrosT