As always they are not far behind their sisters, though they travel at a more leisurely pace. With shoulders brushing and steps moving in a unison cadence of crimson blurs, the brothers dance together under the dragon's song. They humm low in their throats, pleased and content with the promise this trip brings. They know that Akaith would not be so giddy, that Mirage would not be so intent, if it were not their sister that beheld this glorious day.

With a much less graceful entrance than the shimmering Mirage, Madyrn and Maskan arrive on either side of the group, having broken apart and flowed around everyone like dark water. Madyrn breezes behind the stallion of similar appearance, but less familiar attitude, of their father. Maskan edges behind Mirage, bumping her gently, and weaves past Merakerr with quiet interest. They arrive together on Rishima's side, a heart flashing for a moment then shattering as heads turn and toss and grin at the gathered.
"What a time for celebration, dear sister," Maskan purrs with a deep throated tone, rubbing his forehead affectionately across her nape.
"We had a feeling you'd be destined for this," Madyrn murmurs, happiness bright in his eyes as they dote upon her.

The brothers themselves, they take no interest in such companions. Their souls are bound enough with one another, but it pleases them to see their sisters fulfilled in a way they never could have managed.

And perhaps, in other ways, the brothers think as both their eyes shift to the stallion in attendance. He seems uncomfortable, clutching to Rishima and the shadow she casts as some degree of normalcy amongst all this strange. It makes the duo snort in obvious disregard - he's not good enough for Rishima. No one would be, but that's not the point.

Their eyes flick towards Mirage, noting the curious smile upon her maw with open disapproval.

"So, are we going to make this a true celebration?" Maskan asks with genuine interest, his head turning back to Rishima. "Yeah, let's find some fermented apples!" Madyrn laughs with a loud, boasting noise that shakes his ribs. Maskan aims a nip at his poorly mannered other half. A heart melds for a moment and then breaks again as teeth spar against lips and orange eyes glow mischievously. As fast as it happened the stallions are settled once more, both still hoping for a true party.

Of course, they knew little of the cares of raising a newborn anything, and underestimated the wakefulness of the pale gryphon now being preened by the elder one.