Willfur
He can't help but smile at the apparent manifestation of stereotype, wondering if the little stallion had always been vain and self-important, traits that surfaced coincidentally but organically in him, or if his physical features and the assumptions of his peers had artificially impacted his early development. It's paradox made flesh, nature vs nurture, the chicken or the egg, and absolutely fascinating. Still, for all his theatrics, the feathered stallion doesn't come across as convincingly malevolent, more like petty and a little nonsensical, like a spoiled but well-meaning child.
Willfur instantly takes a liking to him.
"Well, I try to do more good than harm, at least. But, hmm, something to herald you..." He thinks a moment, ears swinging out to either side of his massive, blocky head. "Perhaps if you made friends with a song bird? Or commissioned some bells or chimes of your own! A skilled blacksmith could make them with as much filigree and decoration as you want. Something of gold and jewels maybe, much fancier than my tarnished silver." Shifting to rest his hips more comfortably starts another gentle refrain of tinkling, jinging sound. "These are mostly sentimental, so I don't mind them being plain, but I imagine something brighter might suit you, uhm, what did you say your name was?"
He's quick to continue, anxious to head off any possible offense before it's taken. "I'm Willfur, and pleased to meet you! I'm still pretty new around here, but I'm really enjoying just wandering at my own pace and seeing what there is to see. New places, new faces..." In other circumstances he might have worried about coming across as too wordy or intrusive, but something very on-the-nose about present company tells him the little stallion would relish any chance to talk about himself. "Which Court are you from?"
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