Dragomir did not hold grudges, or store ill-will anywhere in his heart, but for those who had gravely hurt him, or those he loved. Syrena, while certainly rude, hadn’t done anything truly harmful to the tricolored man, or Alysanne, for that matter, and it had not taken him long to forget she’d even offended or confused him at all. He certainly would hope for this forgiveness if the tables were turned, and he had often been without the right words or attitude, himself.

Sure, he was getting better at it, the older he got. Other years before this one, he might not have attempted to add any words to the initial statement of Syrena’s name as she arrived; he might have even been listening for the approach of strangers, and left before she could talk to him. Yet, his years among the herds of Helovia had taught him that, sometimes, it was good to spend your time with people other than yourself, especially those who were different.

How else would he have his Ranjiri, and little Letha?

Syrena was certainly different, with her aquatic attributes, which he again looks over with a small internal struggle. He had been raised to dislike those who were different, after all, but that training had worn down over his many years among so many unlike himself. While he’d gotten quite used to things like horns, and wings, beings like Syrena still tended to catch him on the wrong hoof, causing that childhood discomfort to squirm back to life. Still, he does his best to keep these thoughts to himself, remembering Mirage’s words, as he always does.

"Ah, that’s good," he happily concludes, when she reassures it’s not her clearing, a chocolate ear twisting back to capture the stray song of some winter bird. Glancing back down at the object as its questioned after, the stallion taps it with a single, massive hoof, one lack luster ting! weakly sounding from it.

"I’m not sure," he frowns, staring at it, his blue eyes shrouded with the heavy lines of furrowed, thoughtful brows; reaching into a satchel after loosening the clasp, he places the bronze dragon statuette on the ground alongside it, gently, "I think I made these metal things."

Well, isn’t that just scientific? Still staring at the things, as if they might speak to him, if he stares hard enough, he tears his gaze away when he realizes he likely sounds, well… crazy.

"One minute, I was standing there on the beach, thinking, you know?" rumbles the deep voice the stallion, not wanting to get too into what he was thinking about, because it makes him sad, and the lure of discovery drives him on, his words more rapid than they would be if he were talking about, say, the weather, "Next thing I knew, the dragon was there. So, I tried it again, with a bear, I think… This, well, whatever it is, was buried beneath it, in the sand."

"Never seen anything like it," mutters the man, returning his eyes to the pieces on the frosty earth, "they’re definitely metal though. And I didn’t make them seemingly appear like one makes the Goddess’ glass, or the Earth’s stone… I don’t think so, anyway."



Dragomir
I hope tomorrow you find better things.