I watch the healing efforts with an empty gaze. I do not understand the craft, though I can appreciate it's necessity and beauty. I feel utterly powerless - nothing new.

I turn my gaze away to preoccupy myself with the others that appear, watching the interactions between the two dragon-horses with a detached interest. Part of me feels as though I'm awkwardly intruding on their intimacy, despite it being they who chose to act before so many eyes, yet another part of me is fascinated. I know so little of social graces that any idea of romance is naught but a dream for me. I wonder though, for who is it not? It is a joyful thing to share love. You are welcomed wholly and completely by another, able to express not only weakness but passion in ways you never could before. I must admit I have much passion to share; I am no gelding, merely a virgin.

I sigh. A worthless endeavor. Girls wants sweet nothings whispered in their ear and I can only offer them the nothings.

Almost privy to my attentions on her reunion Mirage's gaze turns to me. I wonder if I turn a shade paler, more of a deep grey than black as I freeze under her draconic stare. Yet her lips (is that what dragons have?) purse in a kind smile. Perhaps she enjoys the attention I think boyishly... but she goes on to speak, providing me with words I had never expected.

I want to laugh.

It comes out as nothing more than a trembling quiet, more akin to a wheezing sickness than mirth. Does the DragonHeart think me so capable of leading others? At least I have no others to lead yet, for as I glance around I see none of my kin. Is it then that she has promoted me in light of their being no others to compete with? It gives me a certain grimness that rapidly squashes my nervous mirth.

I am only cynical of course, what else is to be expected of me. I see Mirage in better light than that and I know she would not reward so kindly if the skills were not apparent, but I cannot help but question her faith in when she has only one to place it in.

Yet despite my laughter and my bleak reservations, I do not decline, for I am curious to know what power will be. Will I garner more respect now? I have never been disrespected here, but I wonder if everyone will bow as I breeze past. The thought makes me smile, though the humor is in knowing it won't happen. I'm no less capable of saying my new title than my old, so how could anyone know me improved and honored? Perhaps I'll get a crown. A crown of mist that will burn off whenever the sun rises. It would suit me, a being of vapor and spoiled water.