A gleaming white dragon swoops down from the cavernous ceiling, drawing the stallion’s eyes to her iridescent frame with ears raised and deep blue depths on fire with wonder as to where she had come from. Her chirp is friendly and almost playful, drawing a soft smile to his lips most immediately as he watches her drift on the still air. There is only a small moment in which to ponder her origins, his lips parting to ask her the question (no matter that she could not answer him) just as the woman who belonged to the pretty opal creature arrived with a shout.

His smile does not fade, the child of the dragon isle largely amused by the antics of the scaled beast as she flits back to her bonded mare’s shoulders as if she had never caused her such a panic to begin with. He’s surprised by the way the woman’s hair is, of course, but she doesn’t wear wings or a horn and he can only hope that it is a mere effect of magical heritage rather than a sign that she is kin to one of the other species; he’ll pretend its so for this meeting, at least, for the sake of conversation.

He likes dragons, and hers in particular reminds him of the young ones he’d play with along the beaches of his childhood, a place he misses sorely while trapped in this bleak underworld.

"No trouble at all," he says, his deep voice tinged with a hint of reservation at talking to a strange and rather pretty faced woman, "she was only saying hello." He could continue on with a long winded explanation into his origins and his early studies into the body language and minimalistic culture of dragons.

He nods in regards to their callings, finding he likes the way that they sound and match the beings which they belong to. "Dragomir," he says, not meaning to continue on the conversation with more verbal input until a third party enters into the scene.

He is male, and smaller even than the woman who has joined them, though much more average in appearance and actually more suitable to the man’s tastes in company. He doesn’t make him nervous with an obvious magical aura, or the even more mystical one of whatever cloud it was that pretty girls radiated.

They both were interrupting something, really, he thinks in response to the man’s inquiry, but holds his tongue; it’s better that he has some company while down here than none at all, and while he probably won’t be able to figure out the story on the wall now that his concentration is broken, he finds his doesn’t mind that much. The concept of conversation doesn’t seem all that bad, even if it does make his heart rate rise slightly and the small voice in the back of his head pleads for him to exit the social situation as soon as possible.

"Not really," he says, attempting to look friendly but probably just looking unfortunately plain.

@[Adele], @[Marco]

Dragomir</style>
where light shines, shadows will stretch</style>