AHRIMAN

Darkness there, and nothing more

That someone would have followed him there had not crossed his mind; he had not heard or scented anything that could indicate the presence of another. Might be he had been too consumed by his exploration to stay alert, but right now his attention was upon the stallion and dragon before him. And she likes you. A smile slipped upon his tiny maw when the stranger spoke the words, mulberry eyes diverted back to the white dragon as she bumped her nose against his in friendly greeting. Ahriman bowed his head respectfully in return. “Pleasure meeting you, Lace. And you too, Fajira,” he spoke in his youthful tune, relaxing himself a little bit when proven that the stranger pair was of good intentions. Fajira ruffled his short ribbons while cooing at him, and he chuckled softly at her. When she suddenly stiffened and then lurched up into the air, the colt took a step back in surprise, lobes flickering for a second as his eyes darted to Lace. That was when he saw.

If he could, he would’ve definitely blushed, for it was Mirage that he saw there, the WeyrLeader. She was like a second mother to him, a strong personality that he instinctively admired, so that she should catch him sneaking around was most embarrassing. He shifted daintily on his feet as she approached, her maw stretched out to pull at his mane softly, and he whinnied in greeting. Your mother would worry. Yes, he knew; but she wouldn’t have to. “What she won’t know won’t hurt her – please don’t tell her, Mirage! I’m not out for trouble,” he spoke, eyes slightly wide by the thought of having his dam scolding when he got back. Lace came to his aid, advocating that there are some things mothers do not need to know, and Ahriman nodded eagerly in agreement. That was when he noticed the smile on the stallion’s face and was not surprised as the two greeted one another by name.

Ahriman disliked how the conversation of adults was often too sophisticated to be picked up by his young ears, how some of the finesse and nuances in words got lost. To think that he was the son of Mirage was absurd, even if for a jest; a colt as white as snow with a lithe build and a mare as black as night with draft influence in her stature. Had he been a little older, he might’ve picked up on the joke, but for now he just wagged his fluffy tail lazily and watched the dragons greet each other as well. He wanted a dragon as well, when he grew up; he promised himself that he would get one.