Thankfully for Kahlua, the so smitten young man was far too self conscious to press his desires upon her, even if he had a name to call the emotions that waved through him when her eyes met his or when she smiled. Having been raised far from the usual herd-life that children were born into, Dragomir's social skills were as deeply lacking as his brain was adept at observation, and while his parents had tried to teach him all he needed to survive in the world outside of their influence, they hadn't been able to teach him everything. If he were to think about it very long, he could indeed pinpoint what this weak kneed sensation was, having heard his mother's tales of falling love with his father, forsaking the land in which she had met the gray king to follow him out into the unknown when he had fled the land of Isilme to save the life of Niddhoggr, his green bonded. Even their dragons had shared in their bond of affection towards another, the bronze Israfel never far from his beloved emerald queen; so many lessons in butterfly infested bellies, and Dragomir had missed them all.

It also meant that his courting techniques were distinctly lacking.

A grown man who understood his heart might pose their bodies to exemplify their muscles and strength, bragging about whatever they had achieved in their lives. He had little to flaunt other than being the son of two former rulers and a follower of the horse god, Nieque; perhaps his travelling the large distance between the Isle and Helovia could be considered a venture worth mention, but as he had met no ill will in his journeys, the story would be droll and simple, a long list of fields and forests, birds and beasts. And so he simply hung onto her every word and movement grinning like a fool, unsure why he felt so compelled but allowing his more carnal mind to overpower the logical one in this instance; there was nothing wrong with paying attention, as far as he could be concerned, and the disruption in his heart wasn't entirely unpleasant.

He watched her transition to the shade of the treeline before following, the lack of sleep leaving him staring blankly at her first few steps, unsure if she was simply going to walk away from him and never re-enter his life. Her movements revealed her exhaustion, calming the bleating voice in his head that, as usual, was worried he had done something wrong. Stepping closer to the trees himself, he hadn't realized how hot the sun was on his back, and the shade was a delightful reprieve; her words met his ears as he moved to follow her, the painted man worried as to her health and whether or not he should walk her to a more secluded and comfortable location.

His question seemed to concern her in a way that he couldn't read or understand until she answered it, and even after she had, the flicker of concern that had alighted within him didn't cease to burn. It seemed she accepted the fact of the matter, as resolutely as she stated the firm no, and Dragomir could not entirely understand how one could mourn a man who had been wicked. Would he still love his family if he knew that they were of evil will? The thought pressed his weary brain to its extends, a moaning complaint rising in his temples that made him quickly set aside the complex idea. "Perhaps none of us can be," he mused aloud in response to her observation that he found strikingly true. It drew a smile to his lips, the youth wrongly thinking that the girl was a brilliant philosopher, in a way a kindred spirit to himself; he drew great pleasure from gathering knowledge and that this beautiful and talented woman had made such an adept insight into the hearts of mortals aroused his curiosities and the fluttering of wings in his belly simultaneously.

The silence seeped in, Dragomir's eyes slipping into the distance as he pondered the notion of wickedness residing in each of them. But none he had met had seemed evil, even those who he had been raised to distrust and stand above, the winged and horned; having met Semira, and finding no evil in the most devious natural design he had ever seen, he was unsure if his previous words were even logical at all. The frown that filled in his blank expression was a mirror to his own doubts, and even as the girl's eyes slid back towards him to speak again, he was lost and wandering down the corridors of his mind. Her words pushed him out the exit door, his pale gaze meeting hers with an exuberance as he realized that the conversation was to remain one of learning - and not an easy lesson, either. He listened intently to her as she presented him with the problem, her soft smile all the encouragement he needed to dig deep into his sleepy mind for a suitable answer.

"Silly? No," he said resolutely, remembering Mirage's words in the Threshold several seasons prior when she had introduced him to the notion of three-breed Gods who despised separatism and wanted only a unity among their disciples; an image that his beliefs did not fit into. But he had already seen the ways in which the Edge had suffered for it's beliefs, having brought a war party down on their heads by attempting to peaceably solve a problem that had been born of violence. He hadn't agreed with the tactics that Mirage had used, but he could find no other solution to the problem than to kill the unicorns who had killed her friends - and it simply didn't jive with the way the Edge functioned. "Improbable perhaps. Where the light shines, shadows will stretch," his mind slipped back to his own raising, the hatred explained away quite simply with the words, we're better than they are, and how easily he had accepted and still held these ideals. The irony that he was having this discussion with the gentle and open hearted mare before him didn't strike him in his current state, the man finding his muscles growing more and more sore with each passing moment of conversation - but he wouldn't give in to his physical needs at the cost of losing this wonderful sensation that rippled through him whenever she spoke towards him. "It could be said that without the darkness, none could truly appreciate the sun."