The gentle, subtle summons that rang from the maw of the World's Edge Moon Doctor drifted towards the ears of the Leader, as she wandered about the heart of her lands, musing silently with her beloved bonded, taking the moment to be in the company of her own thoughts. But time enough had passed in her solitude, so the mare decided to heed the call of her Head Healer, wanting to make the most of the opportunity, to assess those who filled the specialised ranks, who deserved to be recognised and embraced by the magic of the lands, who wanted to enter in the profession of the art of healing? With the illusionary cloak draped about her shoulders, the DragonHeart moved with delicate, light, dancer's steps, the motion made with practiced ease. Not only did she know virtually every nook and cranny of the lands, she was naturally quite surefooted and loathe to stand still for more than a small collection of moments.

Upon coming within close enough range to the gathered, the leader paused her steps, with Akaith lingering behind, amongst the canopy, perhaps appearing as nothing more than a wayward ray of sunlight. The shadows of the treeline aided her magic in cloaking her form, only the breeze betrayed her to those who were paying attention to different scents upon the wind. She looked between each one, focussing first upon the painted steed who called them all together. There was love there, between them, love that their morals and circumstances would never allow them to completely embrace. But Torasin would always be her best friend, an ally that she could rely on forevermore, a steed whom the Leader could only wish the very best for. Mirage smiled to herself, before allowing her gaze to drift to the draft mare, whom she also recognised, but was surprised to see still. The dark mare didn't quite know what to make of Tor, and discovering that the pale draft longed to call the Edge her home triggered a yearning to have a deeper discussion with her.

Eyes then drifted to the light form of Gossamer, whose bodice stood, as pale as Mirage's was black. The smile resurfaced upon her hidden lips, a flood of memories drawing right back to days in Isilme, back when Akaith was but a hatchling, and she herself a young mare, fresh onto her wandering trail from the dark, everlasting twilight lands of the Path of the Moon. It was good to see Gossamer back in her element of a Healer, though they were yet to discuss what role she wanted to take up within her new home. A large, domineering frame entered her sights then, the tall, dark form of Thor. He had followed Mirage here as a Protector, but his gentle soul had craved the gentler arts of healing instead - the mare did not criticise nor hate him for it, but admired the dedication with which he threw himself into the role.

A small wuffle was made then, and the mare decided to reveal herself properly to the group, walking as if she were elegance personified as the shimmering, burry cloak of her magic fell to nonexistence around her. Akaith entered in much a dragonly way, diving down from the canopy to greet the two male dragons with much enthusiasm, chortling greetings to all the hooved friends present too. A dark smudge upon the loam, Mirage approached them, and itch upon her shoulder where a deep gash laid healing of its own accord, after she had used her own fire to seal the flow of blood. Genuine and proud, the WeyrLeader smiled to her friends, nodding her refined tiara to each of them in turn, before reaching out with her soft muzzle to stroke Torasin's shoulder in greeting.

"Perhaps I can be of assistance? A patient for the healers of the realm to study?" Her tones are light and playful, curled with the exotic accent of her birthland, though she did genuinely hope to be of assistance.

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