Hurt by the brusque rejection of her concern the little dragon retreated away from the pacing stallion and landed upon the ground next to Faelene. Her injured silence was almost as tangible as his angry rant, and when her pale eyes met with the dark glance from the unicorn lady they were laden with confusion and worry. It was not at all common for the normally so patient and gentle horse to act up like this, he never lost his temper, ever. Fajira couldn't help it; even as he twirled around to face the black mare the little White inched forward a few steps, making a sound not unlike that of a lost kitten. Uneasy, frightened, lonely and concerned... She too was acting out of place, disconnected from thoughts and feelings she normally would have shared.
The ears of the spider-laced horse twitched before pinning back against the poll as he heard the pathetic sound his dragon made, not at all in the mood to be neither reasonable nor understanding towards her pain right now. The reasonable tone Faelene served him did little to please him either; he met her words with a disregarding snort, wishing that she could have retorted with at least half the emotion he was exuding.
"And I'm supposed to settle with that?" he retorted, trying to ignore the prick of guilt that passed through the mind as he heard his own sharp tone... what good did it to take it out on Faelene when it wasn't her he was mad at? "At least you had a choice on whether you wanted to receive that armor or not. I never heard a question in my case, not as much as a whisper. At best I'd say it was a bad case of chauvinist attitude, at worst I will expect dropping dead any minute now. No, actually; dropping dead on the spot would be merciful and I rather doubt that a creature like her would be capable of that."
Another snort set the dark nostrils flaring from agitation, and in a fit of restlessness Lace began to pace again, only marginally less irritated than before. For a time he seemed unable to let go of whatever feelings of rage and fear that had caused this unusual behavior, and it was only slowly that the muscles of the shoulders started to loosen up and the ears returned from their place within the tangled mane. The apparition showed no signs of returning, and even now at his worst the Glazier wasn't one to linger over things he couldn't do anything about. With a grim expression he carefully stored away the memory of the ghost in the far regions of the mind and tried to shrug off the event; something made a lot harder by the fact that the shoulders now were marked by the event. Another something to mark his body, another scar marring the gray coat - only, unlike the ones won through hard work and many a battle, this wasn't something he wore with pride. How could he, when he had neither asked for it nor earned it?
The good mood was wiped away, the beauty of the day ruined. Between a step and the next the stallion stopped and threw a short glance towards the two females, lined up before him like some sort of jury to judge his behavior. The cowering of the dragon annoyed as much as it pained him, as did the stoic face of the unicorn.
"What?" he said and snapped the tail against the sooty hocks. "You think I'm acting stupid? Did you think I couldn't get angry, or that I wouldn't ever question anything thrown my way? I'd rather hear you yell at me than look at me like that, Faelene. If you have something to say, then say it; your patient mask won't fool me." She should know that it wasn't necessary to restrain herself around him, that she could say anything no matter what it was about. May it be that they didn't know each other all that well, but how would they ever get along if they never came clean?
Suddenly tired he forced a sigh through tense lips, wondering if it was the vivid display of life and youth of the grove or something else that made him feel so old.
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