It was just as well the girl did not run. Instead, she met his gaze with her own - Beautiful dark eyes, exotic and framed with thick black. The predator within him shifted from hunger to appraisal. Not prey, it said, observing the stiffness of her spine, the directness of her eyes, not prey, yet. The silver mare danced beneath him, shifting her weight, unwilling to still after such a splendid gallop. He commanded her attention with a sharp tug of the reins, settling deeper onto the beast's back, and drawing his own posture up taller. Atop the mare, he dwarfed the stranger, olive eyes glinting with that dangerous acidic quality.
She was different, something his eyes had never seen before. A beautiful specimen of some rare and wonderful breed. Pupils narrowed hungrily, the wind coyly dragging fingers through his dark, unruly hair. He noted, with the precise and hawkish observation of a true Hunter, her apparent unease - The scent of it along would have marked her as prey, but on closer observation, she was far too beautiful to be such a thing. The monarch remained cloaked in his own silence, a disturbing disquiet that served at last to press the silvery girl into speech.
Her voice was soothing, luring, naturally delicious to the beast that lingered beneath the Thistle King's handsome shell. Although no expression served to change his brooding countenance, the mare sensed her master's changing moods, and tossed her prettily dished head uneasily. Needle-thin pupils watched closely the hand that rose to briefly brush the strange insignia the strange beauty wore about her throat. Was it a charm to ward off the devil? If so, it had failed, for he sat observing her now - And with her words grew a smile on his dark maw, a wickedly handsome expression of amusement. Black lips pulled back to reveal sharp, yellowed teeth, yet what would have been a ghastly snarl was very firmly controlled into a mild, pleasant smile. Everything about him was controlled, from the beast he rode to the dark coat that whispered about him even now. It was only through this control that the beast - The Hunter within - could be in some way tamed.
Both hands rose from the black leather reigns and turned, palms up, towards the woman. It was a gesture of peace, so that she could see he held no weapon. But, if she was keen of mind and soul, she would undoubtedly feel the air of danger about him still. "How very kind of you," Words came at last, in a voice so smooth and alluring that it oozed out from him like caramel; Naturally seductive, poisonously hypnotic. Devious gaze drew once over the woman, lingering hungrily but not-quite-rudely upon her, before darting to the rusted bicycle that had seemingly held her attention. One dark browspot rose quizzically, but he did not yet speak of it, and instead returned simmering eyes to the woman. "Have I come across a fellow traveler?" He wondered what she knew of Salsola, but there had been no recognition in her gaze at seeing him, and thus his rank of King remained a secret. Not wanting to frighten her into hostility, he remained at a polite distance.
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