There was little doubt within the mythical mare's mind that this was the stallion she'd seen, floating high above the sky amongst the rain heavy clouds. Though her own effort to follow him amongst the vast plains of Mongolia had not been...perfect, she would venture to guess that there was not another Draft quite like him in all of the country at the present moment, specifically not one following the exact same path as the yearly racers that tore through the usually lackadaisical countryside. He was, in that manner, utterly unmistakeable. Though his stark white coat had become sullied from the muck and grime created by the recent onslaught of rain and yet, there was still no denying he was exquisite beneath all of that unsightly dirt. Each toned muscle seemed honed to utter perfection, quite like the working equines that Aislinn was usually surrounded by without the short...stocky...flaws that so many of the plains horses held. The pale hue of her gaze lingered upon him with a faint hint of inquisitive whilst he so eyed her with palpable disbelief - the reaction was one Aislinn was strikingly used to. She watched in poised silence as those violent eyes finally shifted from her, only to eye their disinterested peers who had, largely, already discounted her mere presence as little more than another wild, albeit peculiar, horse much like themselves. That is, with the lone exception of the dun steed at the other end of the encampment. He, at least, seemed to have noticed that she was something unique, and something he wanted - naturally.

Her stallion was the first to break that breathless stalemate. His neck arched in an effort to appear dignified and desirable as he smoothly stepped closer towards her. His efforts to garner her attention certainly had succeeded, though Aislinn was steadfast in her desire only for the winged creature that had originally enticed her. Without those wings, he was increasingly less...enigmatic. A disappointment, at best. His efforts to get closer, however, were short lived before the rope around his neck drew taunt as he reached the very end of his lead. She watched as his muzzle extended outwards towards her, clearly in some desire to indulge in that scent so uniquely her. Were she, perhaps, any normal horse, reaching out to him might have come near automatically and yet, for Aislinn, without those wings, she hardly desired even a moment of his attention. She took a singular step back from him, the glacier blue of her gaze merely stared at him in some increased glimpse of judgment. She was aware of that soft puff of air from his nostrils before he pulled back, only for the smooth baritone of his voice to fill her very thoughts. His inquiry, however, was nothing short of an insult! Her horn?! Utilized as some common tool?! The nerve! Her ears pinned backward as her tail flicked to the side in disgruntlement, only for Aislinn to inform him of exactly the value a horn had.

Aislinn had hardly anticipated the cool sarcasm in which he responded with - the dry humor was enough to prompt her gaze to narrow as her head lifted indignantly. "One would prefer not to use anything, but, I didn't see you opening the tent for me." She countered, so easily turning it back upon what she perceived as his failure. It hardly mattered to her that his rope hardly allowed him to reach the tent in the first place, such details were arguably left for him to contend with, as far as Aislinn was concerned. She watched as he shifted forward again, the rope that held him back remained taunt as he pushed the boundary of what he was allowed. She watched as his attention turned briefly towards the restless dun, though why he seemed so terribly interested within his opponent instead of his prize, she could scarcely comprehend. His attention returned towards her as he questioned after her very presence within the camp. Aislinn hardly made an effort to veil her intentions. After all, the lack of those large ivory wings mystified her, the maiden nothing if not determined to discover what had happened to those breathtaking appendages. The very mention of his wings seemed to spark some...aloofness within the stallion in front of her, even if it was barely perceptible amongst what she was beginning to assume was his usual cold demeanor.

Aislinn was quick to turn his sarcasm back upon him, however, as he inquired as to where she'd seen him with those beautiful wings. A soft snort of derision left her nose before she retorted, "In the sky, where else does one see a winged horse?" It was, she was certain, a fairly obvious answer. What else had he expected? The exact longitude and latitudinal point of his existence on the exact day and time? After all, it wasn't as if the grasslands had landmarks and streets to provide him with a location. What difference did it make, truly? It hardly affected that she had seen those wings. How keen he seemed to avoid any mention of his missing wings, however, the stallion quickly deflecting instead upon his rider - one that had interested her only for the possibility that he might be the source of those wings. Though, admittedly, if her mystery did lead to him, Aislinn would find herself sorely disappointed. After all, what good was a rider who temporarily bestowed his mount wings to her? Her blunt announcement that she held no interest in the sleeping man in the tent, however, seemed to...intrigue her companion, though she hadn't the slightest notion why. Then again, Aislinn was quickly beginning to realize that she hardly understood the stallion at all!

Even so, she was determined to keep him on task, more specifically, her task, as she queried after the very absence of those wings and weather or not his rider had something to do with them. She watched as he seemed to pause in consideration, his tail flicking at his muddied hind before he inquired what she might do if such were the case. Aislinn, admittedly, hardly gave it much thought before her own righteous pride prompted a near icicle tone within her soprano voice - that bitter threat pressed into his thoughts without hesitation, the unicorn fully believing herself capable of the what she spoke, and why should she? She had done it before - to men...to women...to any who thought themselves capable of defiling her again. "If he did take your wings then I would separate him from his genitals, remove his arms and impale him on a spike for daring to touch a thing of such purity with his dirty hands." She was hardly aware of the way her gaze had begun to narrow, or that her attention shifted towards the tent. His very question of what she might do had the mare considering that this...rider was very much at fault. In fact, it was only the dull thud of her stallions hooves upon the earth that caused Aislinn to realize her misstep and softly, a puff of air left her nostrils as she shook out her mane ever so slightly, utilizing the motion to once again refind that enigmatic control that was so stereotypical of her ethereal species.

It was his sudden question of her interest, however, that caused Aislinn to pause. "My...my interest?" She inquired, clearly taken aback but the sheer absurdity of the question. It...was absurd...wasn't it? Why wouldn't she be interested in a pegasus? They were a thing of legends...but then...so was she. "....I..." She started, only for her gaze to turn sharply from him. Really, what had she expected? That she could merely barge in and her horn would be enough...for..what...exactly? Was this how far she'd fallen after all these centuries? The once strong, radiant, vicious Celtic Queen now a love struck puppy thirsty for any ounce of anything remotely like her. The soprano lit to her voice softened, the irritation and arrogance somehow had deflated to a rare hint of almost melancholy vulnerability. "...it is...difficult to be...rare in a world of things so normal. You would understand that...if you had wings. Consider yourself lucky that you do not." How foolish had she been to think she might find someone else like herself, someone who might finally be capable of understanding. The unicorns were, perhaps, the only hope she had, truly, but they were as reclusive as she and the two she had met before, beyond her own maker, had failed to hold her interest for long. Whatever she was looking for, she would not find it here either, it seemed.

Aislinn stepped away from him and his taunt lead, the fair maiden carefully remaining upon the very edge of the tent and out of his reach when his final question made her pause. Her head shifted just enough to glance over her rump at him in a near puzzled fashion. "A rider?" She inquired, baffled as to why he would think any would be allowed on her back. "I do not have a rider. Who would be worthy of riding me?" And just like that, her pretentiousness had returned, though really, could she be blamed when the world dreamed of the very thing she was?