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ISOPIA
Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.
Isopia shrugged disapprovingly at the dragon, though gave him permission none the less.
Hubris dances across the distance between them. Sparks fall like starshine from his happily open jaws as he races like an exuberant puppy towards the great old one. Before he reaches Roanne, Hubris draws himself to a halt, grabbing a nearby flower. As it turns out, what the dragonling has taken is a weed, but never mind. He sings a note of frost onto it, covering the bloom entirely in frost. It glistens in the dappled light of birdsong, and Hubris holds it out towards Roanne, like a tribute.
Roanne speaks, confirming Isopia's suspicions. He calls her mountain, and the way his lips slide around the word, like a breeze around a mountain slide, soothes her. Briefly she considers telling him about her clearing. There is an easier way to find me- The words spring to her lips, but a lifetime of secrecy causes her to swallow them. While she is not sure why the stallion has such a mystifying effect on her, she is not dumb to it either.
Her quad horned skull bobs in recognition of his words.
"Why?" She offers, filling what is surely her turn in this little repartee. Though her voice does not swing upwards to indicate a question, instead, it is her usual flat academic cadence. She almost didn't bother asking him - he was waiting for her, surely he didn't require her to invite him to speak?
Isopia shifted her stance slightly. As she moved, if Roanne were being observant (though likely given his eyesight he was not), he would see sprigs of grass springing up under Isopia's hooves, as if she hadn't stepped on them at all. It was as if her weight was inconsequential to the ground beneath her. Which, in a way, it was.
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