She said his name slowly, tasting it's syllables in a way that he had not done her own unique name. Perhaps it was that he was uncomfortable repeating the title of a demonic entity, fearing the repercussions of using her name aloud, but even Dragomir is not so naive and childish as to think that his child has come from any place of evil intent. Children were simply incapable of being malicious at such a young age; had the filly been a handful of months older and well past her transition into spoken language, he may have doubted the clarity of her heart, but at such a tender age and grand lineage it was unlikely that the child had experienced anything that would have twisted or maimed her spirit. As it would appear, Semira was less cruel than Dragomir himself had been at that age, her thoughts molded to the ideals of acceptance and love that her mother carried with her, surely teaching them to her daughter as she found ways to physically show her the path of her parents. The painted stallion had been shown the same roadway as Semira by his mother - the path of acceptance, of unconditional love, of fairness and honor. But he had also been led down another, into the dark heart of the world, by his father, one that taught him that what was strange was dangerous and that above all things, the earth-children were to inherit the world from their weaker, genetically mutated cousins, reigning supreme for the rest of time with dragons lounging upon their backs.

The child's repetition of his name led to a long stream of questions and also factoids about the heritage and breeding of both her and her people; the names he kept in his mind, knowing Akaith to be the stellar golden of Mirage, but the other dragons were unknown. He had meant to answer her initial question as to the origin of his name before she rambled forward with her queries and innocent banter, but instead the child seemed to realize that she was allowing for a rather one sided conversation; her crisp, unusual vocals answered his earlier question, a nod given in response to relay to her that he had heard and understood. His smile gained in lightness by the moment, his heart slowly easing its way back to a normal pace, the logic she provided with her rambling allowing him to place her rather firmly in reality, but also her very nature seemed to make him unable to remain hostile towards her. This child was mostly equine, from the sounds of it, and he now looked over her with a less reproachful glance, imagining the size of her father, who was sure to be massive; the truly wild dragons, not the small wyverns that bonded with horses, were as large as small mountains, he had been told. Not that he had ever seen one - as big as the monsters were, they were masters at remaining unseen, but both of his parents had regaled a story of a dragon known as Walter sweeping away four foals and yearlings within his talons without breaking a sweat.

Perhaps, one day, he might share the story with Semira. For now, he regards her hesitantly, unsure as to whether or not he can truly accept her without breaking the rules he swore to follow, the life he had been taught to live. "My name means precious peace," he said softly, his heart aching within his chest for his mother, her face pristine and etched within his memory as he recalled the meaning of his calling slipping from her lips, her beautiful features framed in the sunlight of the afternoon; he had been named for the peaceful existence that Adalwulf and Requiem had come to find, secluded among the dragons on their small Isle, away from the turmoil of herds and strange faces. "There were thousands of dragons where I grew up, most of them the average wyvern seen here in Helovia." He paused, his deep rumbling voice creating a chasm of silence in it's wake, "The true dragons are unlikely to dabble among the affairs of our like. Your grandmother, she was unusual." He was not sure if he could classify Semira as an "our" or even similar to himself, but he was fairly certain that she did not have the superior and long lifespan of the giant dragons that slept all across the magical realms of their earth, having been bred away twice from the longevity of her ancestors with the short lived and rather unimpressive (only when compared to the greatness of the wyvern) equine species.