He turned at the sound of hooves, urged from his thoughts by the insistent prods of the White. The one who join them in admiration of the ancient stonework is a stallion too, but younger and far gentler than they had ever been. Fajira warbled a gentle greeting to the children of the sky and her bonded smiled back at the soft-spoken paint. It came so easily these days, to smile. Once he had barely managed a polite twitch of the lips, but lately it had been both simple and enjoyable. A true expression of delight, from the bottom of a weary heart.
"It is indeed" Lace agreed with a courteous incline of the neck, returning the greeting with wordless yet impeccable manners. "I was just thinking that it suits my needs quite perfectly... But you know, I was just about to ask you the same thing. It feels like I've seen you somewhere before..."
He squinted towards the gentleman with narrowed eyes, the gilded orbs glinting with sunlight and humor at their mirrored expressions. It was like trying to catch the ghost of a dream he no longer remembered, by following a scent he may or may not have whiffed once as a child. Maybe not so dramatic, but it was a vague and itching feeling of familiarity, as though he ought to remember but couldn't. He tried asking Fajira but her answer was unhelpful, bordering on inattentive.
"Can't remember every horse... You all look alike anyway."
He suppressed a snort - it was dragons who were hard to tell apart - but didn't argue. There was a simple way of finding out the answer after all. Miykael's name didn't ring any bells, nor did the presence of the majestic bird on his shoulder, but perhaps...
"A pleasure, Miykael. I am Lace, called Silverthorn, once King of the World's Edge. " He studied the pegasus closely for a reaction, finding this coincidence quite as amusing as piecing together the puzzle of his new dream, his most recent life project. "I don't know if this helps much... but I was once part of the Qian, under the wing of the Dragonheart."
He managed to say it without showing the pain this time. Her name was a bleeding thorn in his heart, even after all these years. There was never a time when he didn't wonder what had become of her....
But those were thoughts for another time.
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