The Sun was warm today, despite Orangemoon’s best efforts to bring a chill to the lands of Helovia. 
 
The unusually cheerful day had lured Dragomir to the sea, where he stood a fair distance from the whisper of the shore (and whatever mists might be cast off by the rolling waves), his coat having received the message that cold was coming early on; rippling in the wind, the already quite padded tri-color stallion worries about getting his plethora of winter fur wet.  No matter the presence of the Sun’s warmth overhead, it would take too long to dry, and the breeze, while falsely portrayed to be akin to the cheerful, sunny atmosphere itself, was borderline chilly, as Orangemoon breezes often were.
 
He had also learned, with much disgruntlement at first, that his satchels and the harness that bore them did not particularly like getting wet.  Thankfully, he was also not an idiot, and had managed to come by an abandoned hive, and enough wax to waterproof the majority of the leather, soon after this discovery.  He was not entirely sure, however, what salt water would do to his second most prized possessions, knowing well enough what it could do to one’s fetlock hair (of which he had plenty, even in Tallsun) if it wasn’t rinsed it out properly.
 
Dragomir found that such thoughts weren’t overtly prevalent in his mind; they had served more as small nudges of fate leading him directly where he stands. 
 
To the right of one of his massive hooves, a lumpy, dark stone rests in the sand.  It is seemingly unremarkable, even ugly, for its shape is lumpy and half-hazard, not smooth, polished, or even desirable in color, like many of the quartz or shale stones that one could find on a beach such as this.  Unassumingly it waits for him to shuffle his hooves unconsciously as he thinks to himself of his family, far away on the Dragon Isle, and how his mother will never again stand and look out on the sea, as he did now.
 
Buried beneath the sand, beneath his large foot, the unbroken Cassiterite geode assumes its long desired position along side a sizable chunk of black, porous basalt with a metallic secret hidden within.  Overhead, Dragomir’s thoughts swim from his mother’s remembered figure, to the shining dragon wheeling through the air behind her, jettisons of flame bright as the sunshine belched in broad waves, so he could burst through them with precision spirals.
 
The stones hum, and glow, not that anyone notices but the grains of sand about them.  Again, he thinks of the bronze, his wings pulled back, neck arched, the flicker of light at the base of his neck where his fire welled…
 
Quite suddenly, his hoof is flung upwards against his will.  For someone like Dragomir, who is naturally anxious to begin with, the result is quite explosive.
 
"What the!!" he bellows, his haunches buckling and shuffling his towering frame in a nervous (and incredibly awkward) backwards escape, his pouches and amulet slapping comically against his chocolate body.  Entirely positive that he has been assaulted by some shining, tiny sand demon at first, his eyes are wide as saucers, and he nearly capsizes in an effort to get away from his own creation.
 
Shuddering from a short distance away when he realizes that whatever it is, isn’t moving, he slowly inches back towards it, his nose low, his hot breath swiftly blowing wisps of dust up from the sand.  Stopping close enough to nudge it (though he most certainly does not), Dragomir’s fearful breaths suddenly become no breaths at all.
 
Israfel? he thinks, pale blue eyes widening at the miniature image of his mother’s bonded in the sand, exactly as he had been imagining him moments before.

[ OOC: For anyone! <3 Replaced the table as the first was horribly broken xD ]

Dragomir