What had been controlled anger roused into fire at the words suddenly flying out of the unicorn’s dark lipped trap, the large stallion’s brows clenching together and his own bulk stepping forward with his own threats in reply to the fluffing of the young boy’s chest in response to being cast off their doorstep. The words were not really what held the primitive stallion’s more violent side in rapture, rather the way every ounce of this little punk seemed to read “hit me,” at the moment.

But then his mind caught up to the irrational fervor of his subconscious, hearing what he was saying and catching insults tangled with, what Dragomir believed, further proof to his words, that the boy and his family were strangers to the Edge who had been ghosts along its border, not a part of its many friendships and branching connections. He’s just staring to piece together a theory that the stupid cow who had told them that the Edge was a racist band of unicorns led by a golden dragon had been trespassing while giving birth to her equally stupid child when several things happen at once.

The boy bursts into flames while he froths at the mouth and Semira leaps in front of him, barring the path that would lead him directly towards the burning idiot as he wants to when presented with such an obvious challenge (that was, truly, more of an accident), and he himself rears up in a helpless fit of fury and beats his hooves against the air while glaring with a snarl on his face down at the unicorn who burns along their border, seemingly defusing all while Dragomir burns and burns all the more inside, the raging loud enough to drown out Semira’s shout from reaching his conscious mind (stilling, however, his forward momentum behind her frame).

Slamming back down to the earth at the accusations slipping from the young unicorn’s mouth, his head snakes across Semira’s back and his body presses as far forward as it can without knocking it over, all his aggravation towards the other male and what has transpired in his life over the past year relentlessly pouring out from him as his teeth grip down hard on his tongue, anger making him too dumb to bother with words when all he wants to do is smash the boy’s head into the remnants of the wall.

He grunts as the foul mouthed and wickedly tempered youth flees the border as he was asked, just as any cowardly fool would; a true warrior would have stood his ground where this one only flashed his useless toys and then dissipated into the wilderness. To his receding hind end the crafter mutters a gravely, hate filled insult, probably only heard by the dragon princess keeping him from chasing after the coward.

”Moronic babe,” he snarls with a rough snort, tossing his nose back over Semira’s back and agitatedly pacing back towards the Edge a few steps, his ears pinned and white and ebony tail lashing viciously against his sides.

He’s still pissed when his friend directs words to him, to which he makes a sharp, barking laugh and growls out a terse answer. ”Harsh? Some would have beat him to death and let the wyverns have him for such stupid questions,” he surges forward a few paces and aggressively pivots to repeat the same path he just walked, attempting to ease his rancor but finding it less simple to soothe on this occasion than it had been in the Grove. Perhaps age, perhaps circumstance; he cannot know anything more at this time other than he is deeply offended by that unicorn ever having been here. ”Spouting off about all he remembers while asking if our Queen is a giant golden dragon who keeps a fold of only unicorns, a despicable display of contradictions and illusions to his claim to have ever belonged.”

”Curiosity, my ass,” he mutters harshly while passing, ”believing in such fairytales. It’s plausible to assume that his family all has punitive brains as well and thus his dam gave birth to him while trespassing, as idiots might be daft enough to attempt. Dragons do not attack without cause.”

He laughs, a dark sounding thing, his anger ebbing but his irritation and loathing towards the fool boy known as Azaron still lodged deep in his chest. ”Perhaps they wanted to spare the world its experience of him.”