Raymond's eyes glinted at the painted colt's startlement. The flustered fluttering of wings atop his head posed a comical contrast with his heavy if partially-cooked build, but Raymond was not the sort to amuse himself at the expense of strangers. He took the young visitor's quick recovery to heart and beamed back without missing a beat, sparing him the stress of even a moment's embarrassment.

He spoke of Denocte, a name Raymond had heard spoken with more than a little tension, which only served to make both his presence within the walls of Dusk Court and his good-natured grin all the more intriguing. Was he here to enjoy their company or to avoid something? Did he know what happened, or was ignorance bliss as the saying goes?

Nothing happens in a vacuum, after all.

"Not surprising; I've only just dropped in," the red stallion replied, his choice of words perhaps uncomfortably accurate given the events that led him to Novus. "Name's Raymond." His tail tilted automatically in an amiable greeting, then in a sweeping motion he turned to join Cynix at his side, bright eyes sweeping the court's controlled chaos with energetic interest.

"Isn't this fascinating?" he continued conversationally, indicating the steady hum of activity before them as their presence as relative outsiders went largely unmarked. The pair of them were not part of the microcosm. How freeing is that? "Call me rustic, Cynix, but where I came from even the ground we walked on seemed allergic to anything permanent. But you seem pretty comfortable in places like this, yourself; I'm jealous."

Was he? Probably not really - Raymond liked his freedom too much to set his roots deeply enough in court life that he could not simply rip them up and move on again when the winds shifted, and a night spent under the stars and open air was worth the luxury of a hundred sheltered beds. He wouldn't admit as much (he never admitted anything, if he could help it) but at the very least his appreciation for the artful dance of soldiers, courtiers, and commoners brushing shoulders with one another as they went about their lives was perfectly genuine. He wondered if Denocte was similar.

The red stallion listened with the respectful engagement of a therapist in session. Cynix may not have been the only youth he'd met with a rocky start, and he'd be a sentimental fool if he expected him to be the last, but children deserved to be children. The ugly underbelly of reality was not for them to wallow in just yet.

That was one of very few things about which he felt strongly, though the disappointment revealed itself only in the subtle tightening of his jaw. He didn't begrudge the painted boy an undoubtedly rare opportunity to shed some light on the stress boiling just beneath the surface of his skin.

Plus, in the process, he'd shed a fair bit of light on the current political temperature of Novus - and it sounded like Cynix was not the sole horse dealing with some shit at the moment.

Raymond let silence slip between them as he chose his next words carefully, his voice carrying with it a novel sort of gravity. "Measuring your worth by the approval of others will only bring you misery. I know nothing about the strife between Solterra and Denocte of which you speak, or of what you have to put up with, but if you are confident in your own path then those worth your time will recognize your potential without being asked."

He'd had to nurture such an attitude when he'd burned his bridges. There is no place where he was born for what he had become, and a slinking vagabond is friend to no one. Waltzing from place to place as though he belonged there had been a matter of personal survival.

"And if anyone gives you trouble while you're here, I'll kick their ass and beg Florentine's forgiveness later."