A light that seems to know lights up behind the mare’s eyes at the mention of his name, a light he has grown used to glimpsing in the moments after he shares his title and has yielded the improper assumption each time. He can almost mimic the question she asks in his head, the smile that grows on his lips pleasant and not at all mocking as his thoughts are; honestly, he finds it humorous that everyone thinks the name his mother has given him is something it is not, something which still fits him so well.

He shakes his head no, the smile still hanging on his features and his eyes all the more friendly for it. "Precious peace," he offers her instead, the true meaning to the word by which he is known. He does not know where it is from or how is mother has come to know of it, only that it is who he is, no matter how it contradicts the undulations of his spirit.

His attentions then turn to the arrival of Marco, and the words which slip from his much more relaxed looking face now that he has been assured he’s not unwanted by the other two horses. It is Dragomir’s turn to broaden his eyes in response to the little stag as he openly admits his ignorance of dragons; a quick double check assures he is most evidently equine, and the young crafter is suddenly quite wrought with confusion as to why it is this man does not know of the gifts his blood holds.

"She’s a dragon," he states as if it is common knowledge, as if all children with dried ears know the true name for the being called Vera, "a white, smallest of the bonding varieties of her species; do not be mistaken by her size, however. She is as capable as her larger cousins and likely more wise than those who can rely more on physical strength…not to mention much more agile." An almost respectful nod of the head is given the little dragon, the boy’s experience with the small white variety of the beasts having shown that all he’d said was true to a point – there were of course unusual dragons who broke all barriers of their set classes, rising above other genetically superior creatures as if they had been born a greater soul in a small body.

His father’s bonded was one of these dragons; so powerful and intelligent was the emerald Nidhoggr that she had earned a bronze as her mate, a dragon normally far above her breeding station. He did not know Vera well enough to assume she was an anomaly, nor did he rule it out as a possibility.

He had learned well enough already not to count chickens before they have hatched.

"Dragomir, by the way," his says, his own name an addition that finds its way to the open air as soon as he realizes that the silvery bay had arrived too late to have caught his calling when he'd shared it with Adele.

@[Adele], @[Marco]

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