With a measure of interest he gives all things new to him, he watches and admires the tracing path of Resplendence’s vines; he is distracted enough that he does not take notice of the rosy mare’s discomfort, though he does understand why Ranjiri pulls away. It can’t be entirely settling to be so grounded to the earth, no matter what healing the plants accomplish.

While his pale maned friend works away, the strange stallion stands by with his light, the curious painted stallion occasionally looking back to the burning ball with interest between the words passing between the company of four.

Dragomir meets the glance of Ranjiri with some bashfulness – he knows the answer is indirect, and its evident she finds it unsatisfactory as the vines fall away from her. A more direct inquiry meets his ears. He shuffles his hooves beneath him, pondering on the best sort of answer.

More of the land of Loorien, though I avoided anywhere that seemed inhabited, he says with a roll of his heavy shoulder, deep voice rolling about the physical details of his venture, not the emotional ones, ever aware of the presence of a man who is mostly a stranger to him (he is not Ranjiri, open with her soul, his heart is one hidden by stone barricades and windowless walls – though the walls have cracks, and the barricades are flimsy and worn), occasionally a traveler or two would cross my path, but mostly it was forests and fields, steep hillocks and mountains.

His blue eyes wrinkle at the corners, a smile soft and warm gracing his face as he reaches out with his muzzle towards Ranjiri.

I am back now, he says, his resonantly deep voice warm and rolling, his features honest, tinged with the knowledge of change and the regret of having not been here to watch its passing, I’m sorry for being gone so long.

Looking to Resplendence, her voice soft and weary from the use of her magic, the child of the Steadfast and the Dragoness feels his pale gaze waver. Does he really want to know? What if the story is lined with death, a tale of loss and devastation drawing blood from his soul?

He does not know what he wants, even when Ranjiri chooses for him (earning a small glance of surprise before he looks back to Resplendence). Why would she be interested? She belonged to the land of the deserts, not the forests or the fields. Still… he will oblige her, a thought which flashes painfully through him when he thinks of what all he must have missed, a thought which he uses to brace himself for what words may come.

It is probably best, he admits aloud.