Dragomir and Kahlua could be of much use to one another – he could teach her how to pause and think about things (sometimes too long) before committing to them; surely he couldn’t replace the training of one’s parents, and that he was not always good or right, but thinking was one thing that the young man liked to think set him above some of the others. And if his thoughtful existence could better the girl’s life, than she herself could teach the boy how to simply smile and be free; for all his aching thoughts on life, he could spare no time to smell the roses, only categorize them by shape and color, the fullness of the petals.

The touch of her soft muzzle upon his flesh sent his head reeling again, the sparkly, dizzy sensation heating the base of his skull and working its way to and from his brow. In combination with the sincere gratitude, the painted stag found himself quite heavily immersed in a floating cloud of hazy and foreign emotions – and they were actually quite pleasant, for once.

When the time came for them to move forward, the slight pressure of her shoulder against his own kept the bemused and simple smile glowing on the fringes of his expression, and tired as he was, kept his pace bright and flowing despite the way his muscles should have been protesting. At odd intervals, his joints would clack and pop as he moved along, releasing the tension from standing in one location for so long; sure, he had paused to stretch a bit, but he could only go so far without leaving the mare’s side (as far as he had drawn his boundaries to be).

Her soft laughter is only cheerful to the boy, who in other instances might find her constant mirth to be a sign of mockery or disdain; but he watched her while she built, and had seen her many times in the forest, and always she had been smiling or carrying on some conversation or another. If Dragomir had such room in his heart, he might be jealous of her for being so fearless in a crowd; he himself could barely manage to converse with those he called his herd mates, much less any random ear as miss Kahlua seemed to be able to do.

"I would be grateful," he says, lips pulled upwards in a broad smile that mirror the dance of his heart along his ribcage, like a scene from a 1950’s movie in which the lead actor has just discovered he’ll be partners with the lovely miss Peggy Sue (que random dance scene). He still has no worldly idea what is wrong with him – but rather than rebuke the emotion for the lack of understanding he felt as he had prior, he was beginning to settle into it quite nicely.

He felt like it gave him an edge. What sort of edge that was… he didn’t know.

The heat drew a heavy sigh and deep yawn from the adolescent as they arrived to the fireside, despite the jittery state of his being. He was beginning to place the blame for the feeling on his lack of sleep and first true act worthy of honorable mention, though would later come to understand the sensation much better, he was sure. Life never stopped giving him answers, whether he wanted them or not, and he looked forward to thinking over the hours which had transpired in the company of the wall builders, most specifically, Kahlua.

He nods in agreement of her words on rest, though is saddened by the thought of their conversation ending. He learned so much of her, and wonders if she knows anything more of him at all by this point – or if she even cares. Not that it would matter. He was unlikely to be around the Edge much after this point, though he would look for her everywhere he went; somehow he knew this without any magical assistance. With the wall securely in place, he felt the need to venture out and see the land to which he had journeyed, to see more of what her wilderness had to offer. "It seems good to me," he says with a carefree air, hiding his wants to continue speaking with her under a male guise.

Stepping away from her, blushing if such a thing was possible (for he has realized they've been standing here touching for far too long to be chivalrous), he tucks his head downwards and angles himself between a nearby tree and the flames, glancing back to her once he is sure his embarrassment is hidden from his features. "Rest well," he calls to her softly, before closing his eyes and returning his neck and head into a posture of rest.

Even with his eyes pressed shut, he can still see her.

He does not know how easily sleep will be coming, even as exhausted as he is.