He had always been the born gentleman. It was second nature to the silvery steed to politely look away as the two unicorns greeted one another, intentionally making sure to let the thoughts stray while they spoke. Who was he to intrude on a fathers embrace of a long lost daughter, or embarrass a lady by staring as emotions was laid bare? It was perhaps only a small courtesy, but Lace had always been sensitive to those little details that smoothed the transition from stranger to friend - really, it was just about common sense and a little bit of politeness.

He focused on Sacre instead while the family reunited, and returned to them with the same cheerful smile once he found himself addressed. Nodding his head in respect for the gray mare as she revealed her name, he thought himself recognizing it. It was faint, but a memory was there; a small filly trailing after her imposing mother, frail and scrawny and constantly tripping on rocks and roots. He would never have known it was the same horse if she hadn't said something - and of course, if he hadn't heard the initial exchange between her and Nato. Now the white-maned knight was able to nod with a warm smile playing on the lips.
"I remember you" he said, daring a bit closer to extend a nose in greeting to them both, should they be willing to accept the gesture. "It has been a long time indeed; I didn't think I would end up seeing either of you again."

Retracting the head once more he regarded the remnants of the once powerful family, gilded eyes taking in their visage while allowing the first enthusiasm to settle. Many years had passed indeed, and he was not the same stallion that had wandered the forest of the Woodlands, head held low and quietly trying not to make himself noticed. It had not been a genuinely happy time for him; too many disturbing events had transpired before that which weighed on his mind. But the herd had been strong and well structured, the horses friendly and welcoming; it wasn't as though it had been entirely bad either.

Turning the gaze to the painted stallion as he spoke, asking for the location, Lace allowed the smile to broaden for a moment before letting it fade away, features settling down somewhat.
"It's good to see you too, sir. I always wondered what became of you all after my departure - I hear times grew rougher after the war of the Tides." There was a hint of apology in the amber orbs, a touch of regret - how many times had he not wished that he'd been wise enough to remain, in the one land where he'd felt at home.

"Well, yes and no?" he continued with a chuckle, readily answering the questions of his former leader. "I don't live here per say, but in the area. You are standing in the threshold to Helovia, a vast landscape... not entirely unlike Isilme, actually, but I dare say that it is somewhat more peaceful. I belong to one herd of four, named Qian - together with my queen Mirage I lead them from a region called the World's Edge."

Something fluttered nervously in the chest as he spoke of the shadow mare, as if the words used were taboo, forbidden - it perhaps wasn't entirely correct to say that she was his queen.. Not with all that it implied of family and closeness. The mare might have been perplexed had she heard him - "More likely amused" Fajira whispered in his mind - and perhaps she would scold him for revealing something that not even the rest of the herd knew of yet. But it was hard not to say it out loud; that he was the Leader of the herd. It was still so new, so fresh; it had yet to sink in, and even so he couldn't help but want to see how these old royals reacted to the news. Would they be surprised, annoyed, discouraging?

"If you would like, I'd be happy to welcome you both into the herd, to stay or simply to rest for a while. I'm sure you both have a lot to talk about - and frankly this isn't the safest place." Somehow the nervous roiling of the gut didn't spill over into the voice as he made his offer - it sounded only calm and friendly, something the fledgling king was immensely grateful for. Fajira added her own invitation; a flap of the glittering pale wings and a melodic trill from the throat - she too remembered the horses, despite the long years that had passed and her own youth at the time.

Dim vales- and shadowy floods-
And cloudy-looking woods,
Whose forms we can't discover
For the tears that drip all over!
Huge moons there wax and wane-
Again- again- again-