DRAGOMIR

He follows her lead, taking her gesture sincerely for once and without too much faltering on his behalf at the gentle pressure of her scaled body against his own. Large hooves stride even and powerful as they begin the journey home, his collection of vines dangling across thick and muscular shoulders as he stares ahead, occasionally glancing over to meet Semira’s eyes with his own.

He takes in her story of her aunt with an ear leaned in to catch each word, blue gaze twinkling in good humor and interest. He can almost picture her, after all the descriptions Semira has provided him, and the sight is something he is mildly envious of, and wishes he had been fortunate enough to have seen such a thing on his brief period of adventure. It settles well with him, however, that he has never been allowed such glimpses into the world of magic; after all, he might never have come to Helovia, which would mean he would have met none of those who had so greatly changed and enriched his life with their company and kindness, and he would not have been here to guide the princess home.

All in all, he found his life here honorable, and full of enough adventures on its own, even if they were small ones gathering flowers or conversing with pretty girls. He wouldn’t exchange it for anything, not even a chance to walk among dragons.

He already did that here, didn’t he? He looks over at the silvery girl alongside him, and smiles. Great, emerald queens of the skies could wait another day. His soul wasn’t done growing here, and his path had not ended. He could see more branches looming, just ahead; he would see to where they would take him, all the way to his ever after.

Her happiness is short lived, and he frowns with her, feeling perhaps more crestfallen than he should in the wake of how quickly her glimmer had faded because of his words. He listens to her description of her kin, knowing her words to be true in recollection of the girl he had met along the borders that afternoon; he’d thought the same thing then, looking at Amaris, how much more refined and mysterious she had been in comparison to the other daughter, carrying herself as a true Goddess of might and mystique rather than a benevolent and bubbling incarnation of bliss as her sister presented herself. He supposed it might have had something to do with the spirit wyverns that had rippled and writhed about the dark hearted daughter; the magic had aged her in ways that Semira could not compete with.

"I saw her in between the dead magic and the darkness. It may be that she chose to wait for safety elsewhere," he offers, pulled into the memory of that wonderful time of peace after the wall had been completed, a time that seemed much more beautiful in retrospect than it had at the time; he was slowly recovering from the darker events that had occurred in the Grove, and it allowed him to look back and see through the anguish he’d suffered through. So many had been there helping to build the wall that he hadn’t seen since the plague had lifted and the Gods had restored the land to health, and it saddened him to recall them almost as much as it gave him hope that he would see those times again if he remained with the Edge.

The gentle touch of her wing restores him to the present, misty gaze finding her for a fleeting moment before returning to the path. He listens to her façade of strength, almost believing that she has this more together than he does until the very end, how her voice breaks and she visibly droops beneath the weight of her loneliness in a place that had once held only friends. He reaches over to tousle the locks of silvery mane between her ears if she allows the touch as a way of saying, “keep your chin up,” though he himself is unsure how to deal with the changes he’s been presented with.

"Kahlua and Kaj lead the World’s Edge now," he says, trying to remember all the names and faces that had been at the meeting, the titles they had belonged to, "maybe they know something, and they definitely would like to know that Smoke and the others are safe." The only one of them all he’s ever met aside from Semira herself is the Wild Rose, the only name he feels comfortable repeating without having a distinct mental image to place to it.

He’s a strange boy.

"They’re holding a competition for Captain, at the moment, but Quilyan was promoted to Specter at the meeting after we came up from the caves," he turns to her suddenly beaming, his forward motion halted as he realizes he hadn’t had a chance to tell her about himself, "and Aaron and I became Glaziers!" Most proudly, his head is raised and his ears lie partly down on his straight features, smile gleaming on dark lips as his chest presses forward and his neck arches. He’s not exactly sure why he’s so excited to tell her at first until it hits him.

He has had not other friends to tell this to that were not already at the meeting.

His pride quite suddenly deflates though the smile lingers (newfound pride in that he has a single soul to have shared his promotion with), his limbs returning to their forward march in dismay of his millionth realization that he is much more lonely than he feels most days.

@[Semira]
[ OOC: Semira first, then others are welcome to pop in and say hello! ]

CrafteR

world's edge