The boy tilts an ear towards the subtle sound of hooves that near him, not quite ready to look away from the etchings in the stone but also not willing to be caught off guard. Waiting a polite amount of time for the other horse to speak, his mind gently gropes at the symbols for a while longer until he realizes that whoever has approached him is only standing to observe him as he stands still as death in this dimly lit hole in the ground. Most days, it would cause discomfort to rise to the front of the young stallion’s pool of responses, but there was no uneasy prick of his flesh from the on looker’s eyes and so he felt no immediate thread to himself or his well being – only a tinge of curiosity, a wonderment as to why it was someone had arrived to stare as if a mute at his silent studies.

He turns his simple features to look at whomever it is, finding a black unicorn that seemingly melds into the shadow of the cavern, a deep red set of eyes watching him from beneath his equally gruesomely toned horn. Dragomir takes a moment to stare silently at the stranger himself, noting the white dog (young, so very full of new life) behind the stallion and most notably the horn spiraling upwards from between his eyes.

Of all the breeds he had been forced to deal with, the only species more nerve shattering than a unicorn had been Semira and Amaris – and he had never heard of dragon hybrids before as he had the wearers of the sword. Perhaps his eyes linger too long on the vicious point of the man’s head spike, broaden in wonder at the sort of damage such a wicked device could cause, or perhaps it is too dark at all to notice such things. Either way, the silence has stretched long and uncomfortable as the boy observes the strange stag, his pale blue gaze searching the features of the black and red man for any signs of hostility, his own heart pounding like the beat of a thousand drums inside his chest.

He hears the cry of Ricochet, through the rain. He sees the bloody streaks along a pitch black pelt, a macabre memory that flashes like a streak of lightning through his thoughts. He can smell the stench of the fire as it consumes everything in its path… and then, as quickly as it arrived, the memories fade away, leaving him with an acute sense that the staring has gone on quite long enough.

He stills the trembling of his flesh, steels his will to obey his desires to appease the Queen of Dragons and his beautiful Glazier. This man is only a unicorn, after all – a good kick to the head would remove him of all marks that deemed him as a lesser creature.

"Are you in need of something?" he asks, not really sure why else someone would stand so quietly and so unobtrusively from the sidelines until finally fed a scrap of attention, but after the words hit the air the stag knows this is not the case. There is a lack of anything in the red eyes that watch him from a respectful distance, they do not flicker or burn as the spirits of his brethren’s within the Edge seem to, and he senses, though he is not sure how or why, that this is a lonely soul, one who wanders from one empty place to another.

His head shakes no in answer to his own inquiry, a smile alighting on his face in the revelation of what he believes to be part of this one’s character, for they share a similar fate among the myriad faces of Helovia. Dragomir is often alone as well, and it is rare that he has found another not surrounded by friends and loved ones, drawing from him a sense of connection between the two even as he rebukes the unicorn’s presence for being what he is.

The son of Adalwulf will never grow talented at these awkward, life lesson mauling moments. He is a mind of two paths, and stubbornly he tries to make either one bend into the other. "Dragomir, of the Edge," he says, though he dallies on the title of his home – is it even still there? Not to mention, he hadn’t seen Mirage or Kahlua or Destrier or any of the other familiar and staple faces of the land down here, and never was the pain he felt when wondering if they were alright as intense as it was whenever he thought of potentially losing the only friends and family he had this far west.


[ OOC: Sorry it took so long! I was waiting to see if Tailor would be able to make it. <3]
@[Voodoo]