Against the stars a shadow spun in slow, lazy circles. It hung low enough that the words of the herd drifted up to be caught by attentively tilted ears, and really had not had any intention of landing. His presence there, listening to the important shifting and stirrings, was enough for him and the one whose judgement counted. But it didn't stay that way, not when the discussion turned heated, carried on a familiar, masculine tone that rose loud enough to heard clearly yards away. Impossible to miss, impossible to ignore.

At first he spiralled lower, blocking out the stars and the moon, a soft rumble vibrating in his chest. An instinctive reaction, the dragon moving in defense of his mate. But then he listened, and thought. Considered, and found that his thoughts swayed, surprisingly, toward agreement with the Wingleader that spoke so vehement and long-winded against the proclamation by the Dragonheart. Not every fact settled with him, for there was some things he was ignorant upon. And yet...

At last sharp words faded from the Wingleader's tongue, and the silent watcher above decided he could be silent no more. Wings beat, casting a rush of air over the assembled below as he angled wide out over the open space beyond the cliffs. Dipped low, then rose up to claim a foothold with a tremendous thunder of leathery wings defying gravity long enough to grant the giant they carried a gentle landing. He strode forward without bothering to fold his wings, stretching them up above himself instead, great sails of vein-traced skin spread out like twin umbrellas to block out the artificial night's lights.

Golden eyes flashed a gentle warning toward the golden pegasus in the sudden light of a short blast of flame from his maw, a gesture too brief to cause harm, but sharp enough to express the unquiet within the hybrid stud who, for once, demanded the attention of all who gathered at Mirage's call.

"Mirage." He rumbled now, baritone notes quiet in comparison with the Wingleader's shouted words. "All who stand before you, all those who wander on this side of the glass wall, are here because of you, my dear. Young souls, old souls. Souls who have stood as leaders in their own lands. But all stand here, recognizing you as their leader. We chose you, none have risen with thoughts to displace you, and we have trusted you with our safety time and time again. As wayward outcasts beneath the Deep Forest's boughs, as hopeful invaders against the unicorns, as defenders from the same. The one you lifted to lead beside you before was ill-suited, though all trusted your judgement then. My dear, are you surprised that finally one decides to speak out in words of doubt when you lift yet another to lead? Perhaps, my dear, it is time you ask those who raised you to lead us who they would see stand beside you, instead."

A brow lifted, ironically, as he regarded her. The masses had chosen her to lead, and still chose to follow her. Why shouldn't she ask their opinion, when all had seemed to agree she was who they wished to have lead, despite the times in which she became scarce.

Only then did he fold his wings, moving with deliberate slowness to fold them down upon themselves and reveal the glow of stars and moon above the clearing. His long tail swayed as he turned away, piece spoken, and moved to stand amidst the trees, not all that far beyond the Wingleader who'd brought this all up to start with.

((AAAAHH Dramatic Vikram post!))