He was angry. That much was obvious. It rolled off him in waves, radiating as if he were the sun radiating heat. The light banter she held behind her eyes had been interpreted a way the dragon-mare had not expected; then she wondered just how he would have reacted had she hidden her amused glance. It faded now, the golden one's façade resettling to show nothing more than indifference as to whether the stallion was there or not, stony and set, her slitted eyes narrowed upon him, sharp, slicing right through his insides. She longed to know why, why was he feeling this way, when their first meeting he had been so pleasant, enough so that she had longed to converse with him again? What had changed?

"Be assured, I have not changed, I am, as always, true to myself." The voice was quieter now, and yet seemed to hold more volume, more dimensions of meaning. The DragonHeart enjoyed games, so much so that if she could survive on games alone, she would. But while she enjoyed causing mild irritation, and perhaps testing the wits of another, she never liked to see another in distress, never liked to feel as if she were the cause of said distress. The dragon had grown serious now, her scaled visage set in a vacant stare as she observed the stallion shut his eyes and have his own inner quarrel.

It was not her, who had caused the distress then, though she doubted she had been helpful in what was meant to be playful antics. Miscommunication; even Mirage was prone to it, she who knew that things often went so wrong just because of a handful of words spoken in a vague manner, or interpreted in a way dissimilar to their original intention. She regretted her actions that had perhaps hindered the stallion's progress towards winning his inner battle, but was also resigned to the fact that there was little she could do to change what had already been written in the past. Weary eyes stared back at her, golden, equine eyes, as Lace finally appeared so close to succumbing to whatever darkness was consuming him.

But his words, they were hurtful. The Qian was truly one sure way to touch the mare where it was sensitive, and a touch too hot or too cold was simply not acceptable. The black slits of her golden eyes shrunk, becoming barely visible as she refocussed on this silver grulla, surprising even herself at the low utterance of a growl rumbling about her gullet. It was as if she could not control it, for her expression remained otherwise clear and passive, but her chest brewed a growl that resembled the sound an earthquake makes as it shifts land atop tectonic plates.

"You go too far, Lace." Her voice was simple, not accusing, sad or angry, but plainly speaking facts in way that may have made it seem like he already knew this. "Knowledge of the Qian's activities were available to you once. You had a choice." With a small shrug of her shoulder the dragon dismissed the words. The dragon-mare needn't remind him of his choice to continue on in Helovia without her knowledge as a guide. Life as a vagabond gave one a sense of 'freedom', but was one truly free, especially if they could never escape their own horrors? "My purpose here will be revealed in due time, I expect." Cryptic as always, she remarked on his direct query at her, jaw clacking shut at the end of her sentence with a firm thunk.

"I see change, but I do not see the reason." Though she had her suspicions, having been victim to torrents of darkness and depression before. If not for Akaith, much like Fajira to Lace, Mirage would not be before him today. A shiver twitched the scales along her spine at the memory of it. Friends had come to her that day, friends who were of the Qian, friends who were of her heart. Did Lace have none of these? Mirage's methods were only for the strong, and she knew him to be strong of min, and that most important of all.