I followed the emptiness laid in store for me. I had no destination in mind. I thought of the nostalgic glistening in the back of my thoughts and memories where my brain would flourish in bustling cheerfully as always. How us equines functioned so thoroughly and not was something that rarely came up as a question as I quietly hummed an old lullaby my old female friend had in the days where happiness lurked in the peaceful terrain. It was truly peaceful. Too peaceful for one to dwell and fixate upon for too long; especially for the handsome colts sprouting from gangly foals to aging adults about to reach the life of a stallion. Nonetheless, I would dwell on my thoughts as if I were but a filly with a dainty face sloped like an Arabian's. But it was mildly different from what acceptance I received by mare and stallion alike, even if I had endured some unpleasantness in the depths of the sanctuary.

It was another question that piqued my mindset today: What would it take to accept another? My family loomed over the herd with mild discrimination against some, and none against others. It was a bizarre lifestyle to be raised in, but the foals - my friends and I - knew best than to question the leaderships stumbling and picking itself back up again, like a wounded hero rising against the odds of pain coursing through their body. Except the leadership wasn't anything heroic or admirable by many. I assumed, but I judged too quickly.

My legs led me to the nostalgic area where the watery depths reminded me of those fond memories; the thought of my acquaintance, no, friend elated my emotions. However, I wasn't alone, again, in the rocky surface of the pool and the rocks glued together and by miracle, it held together with only a crevice for light to peek through. I peered towards the company: two scents collided with each other as my nostrils caught a whiff of them, extending to allow more to inspect from that safe distance. Both foreign, and it only meant to stay on guard while making the good first impressions as I recited constantly to myself before.

What surprised me was the mare's usual coat color, and not to mention, the hair replaced by flames licking the oxygen and her body. A winged lizard - a dragon, perhaps? - floated against her withers with a sort of expression I could hardly understand. It almost reminded me of those avian companions with the equines I had met before, but this wasn't anything I expected with her. I continued to say nothing as my eyes drifted towards the large draft nearby. A male; by guess. A large one where I secretly envied his height compared to my petite size. Although, I wondered if I had missed a commotion by the mare's words when my arrival was belated.

Small ears flicked forward with genuine interest. Staring blankly wouldn't do any good so I uttered, "Hello there! I hope I'm not interrupting anything." I grinned towards the both of them with hopes this would end on good terms.

A gleaming white dragon swoops down from the cavernous ceiling, drawing the stallion’s eyes to her iridescent frame with ears raised and deep blue depths on fire with wonder as to where she had come from. Her chirp is friendly and almost playful, drawing a soft smile to his lips most immediately as he watches her drift on the still air. There is only a small moment in which to ponder her origins, his lips parting to ask her the question (no matter that she could not answer him) just as the woman who belonged to the pretty opal creature arrived with a shout.

His smile does not fade, the child of the dragon isle largely amused by the antics of the scaled beast as she flits back to her bonded mare’s shoulders as if she had never caused her such a panic to begin with. He’s surprised by the way the woman’s hair is, of course, but she doesn’t wear wings or a horn and he can only hope that it is a mere effect of magical heritage rather than a sign that she is kin to one of the other species; he’ll pretend its so for this meeting, at least, for the sake of conversation.

He likes dragons, and hers in particular reminds him of the young ones he’d play with along the beaches of his childhood, a place he misses sorely while trapped in this bleak underworld.

"No trouble at all," he says, his deep voice tinged with a hint of reservation at talking to a strange and rather pretty faced woman, "she was only saying hello." He could continue on with a long winded explanation into his origins and his early studies into the body language and minimalistic culture of dragons.

He nods in regards to their callings, finding he likes the way that they sound and match the beings which they belong to. "Dragomir," he says, not meaning to continue on the conversation with more verbal input until a third party enters into the scene.

He is male, and smaller even than the woman who has joined them, though much more average in appearance and actually more suitable to the man’s tastes in company. He doesn’t make him nervous with an obvious magical aura, or the even more mystical one of whatever cloud it was that pretty girls radiated.

They both were interrupting something, really, he thinks in response to the man’s inquiry, but holds his tongue; it’s better that he has some company while down here than none at all, and while he probably won’t be able to figure out the story on the wall now that his concentration is broken, he finds his doesn’t mind that much. The concept of conversation doesn’t seem all that bad, even if it does make his heart rate rise slightly and the small voice in the back of his head pleads for him to exit the social situation as soon as possible.

"Not really," he says, attempting to look friendly but probably just looking unfortunately plain.

@[Adele], @[Marco]

Dragomir</style>
where light shines, shadows will stretch</style>

There was a sign of relief etched upon my face. The two of them didn't mind me bursting through during a possible conversation between them, which still didn't leave me feeling a tad guilty for my intrusion, but my grin said otherwise. I hoped anyway. The unusually-colored mare introduced herself as Adele in my presence, but I wasn't sure if I had missed the stallion's declaration or not. I didn't pry as he hardly mentioned much since I had arrived. Then again, it was likely his large size which halted me in pressing an introduction with him right away. Although my eyes widened at this appearance - which was much more comforting in his natural way- before I looked away.

However, Adele and her companion were a different story. She didn't really intimidate me, but her appearance intrigued me in many ways. I hardly meant someone like that, but she sounded lovely in her unique way. Nothing foreign. Fully capable of causing me to relax in spite of old views. I tried my best not to mention why she looked like that, but something in my throat wanted to saying something stupid. Instead, my eyes laid upon Vera the flying lizard before I blurted out, "What kind of species is Vera?" I was mildly embarrassed for seemingly sounding rude upon the second line of my dialogue. It just then occurred to me I haven't even stated my name. "Um, oops. I should mention that my name is Marco." I added quietly; attempting to wave off the first question with a low sense of hope.

@[Adele] , @[Dragomir]

[Pardon the ugly reply. My writing muse has been iffy for Marco XD]

A light that seems to know lights up behind the mare’s eyes at the mention of his name, a light he has grown used to glimpsing in the moments after he shares his title and has yielded the improper assumption each time. He can almost mimic the question she asks in his head, the smile that grows on his lips pleasant and not at all mocking as his thoughts are; honestly, he finds it humorous that everyone thinks the name his mother has given him is something it is not, something which still fits him so well.

He shakes his head no, the smile still hanging on his features and his eyes all the more friendly for it. "Precious peace," he offers her instead, the true meaning to the word by which he is known. He does not know where it is from or how is mother has come to know of it, only that it is who he is, no matter how it contradicts the undulations of his spirit.

His attentions then turn to the arrival of Marco, and the words which slip from his much more relaxed looking face now that he has been assured he’s not unwanted by the other two horses. It is Dragomir’s turn to broaden his eyes in response to the little stag as he openly admits his ignorance of dragons; a quick double check assures he is most evidently equine, and the young crafter is suddenly quite wrought with confusion as to why it is this man does not know of the gifts his blood holds.

"She’s a dragon," he states as if it is common knowledge, as if all children with dried ears know the true name for the being called Vera, "a white, smallest of the bonding varieties of her species; do not be mistaken by her size, however. She is as capable as her larger cousins and likely more wise than those who can rely more on physical strength…not to mention much more agile." An almost respectful nod of the head is given the little dragon, the boy’s experience with the small white variety of the beasts having shown that all he’d said was true to a point – there were of course unusual dragons who broke all barriers of their set classes, rising above other genetically superior creatures as if they had been born a greater soul in a small body.

His father’s bonded was one of these dragons; so powerful and intelligent was the emerald Nidhoggr that she had earned a bronze as her mate, a dragon normally far above her breeding station. He did not know Vera well enough to assume she was an anomaly, nor did he rule it out as a possibility.

He had learned well enough already not to count chickens before they have hatched.

"Dragomir, by the way," his says, his own name an addition that finds its way to the open air as soon as he realizes that the silvery bay had arrived too late to have caught his calling when he'd shared it with Adele.

@[Adele], @[Marco]

Dragomir</style>
where light shines, shadows will stretch</style>

There was more relaxation drifting across my body. If I was any less tense, I would surely be inhabiting the air; floating with ease towards the physical body too relaxed on the ground. Dead was a less wordy term, but nobody heard me so I could refer to death as anything I pleased. ...Of course, I couldn't think of any adjectives at the moment so I allowed it to slide. Ghost would be a fun word, but that was exactly another synonym for death or even corpse, or was it? I should ask someone that in the near future since it could have its morbid moments I guess.

My ears flicked towards the two words the larger stallion had stated, which had no exact meaning to me, but I assumed it meant something about him. Adele caught on faster than I did, but I arrived later than the both had when they entered this territory. The time lapse was uncertain as I only told the time of day based on whether the sky shimmered with the sunlight or the moonlight against a dark background, and the twilight and dawn. The topic cut itself short in my head as it left me clueless and annoyed not to understand so vividly.

The stallion answered my question - which concluded why I felt more relaxed this time around - about Vera's own species. Dragons, my eyes widened with recognition at the word, but the species continued to elude me in its mysteriousness - the winged reptilian beasts unlike what I was told not too long ago. The memory was fuzzy; too much had happened in such a fleeting time span it was hard to keep track of everything Helovia had to offer - in portions or in dozens. Dragons contained such mysteries, but my own excitement at seeing Vera show off when her name caught her attention towards the equines caused me to chuckle with delight. Fire though! I never seen fire escape one's mouth before, which left me a little scared at the sight, but at least it didn't cause the forest to burn down, excluding the logic of her height.

Adele spoke again along the lines of dragons, the last of my surprise of the fire diminished to be replaced with interest again. I cocked my head as I exclaimed, "I'm an equine so I'm eligible to bond with one!" The idea of my own heritage flickered like a flame as I burst out with pride in order to ignite it. My parents was more known to be strictly equine and boring so I had nothing to brag about in my family line. Dragons looked so cool though. I guessed being an equine wasn't so bad after all if it meant dragons.

Funny. Dragomir almost sounded like dragon. Coincidence?

@[Adele] , @[Dragomir]

He’d found kind and regular company outside the boundaries of his home for once, which he settled into quite nicely as soon as the conversation started moving well enough for him to ease into their voices and outside of the small box he usually kept himself in. He smiles in return to the softer one of Adele, her words pleasing to him in ways that he slowly was beginning to understand after so many months fretting over why Kahlua made him feel like he was going to explode and float away all at the same time. It was a simple thing, really, one that made him feel quite foolish now that he had realized what it was – these girls were pretty, and they said such pretty things.

It was easy for a young man to get quite lost when being complemented by such a woman as this, and even though the conversation was interesting and held his attention well enough, he couldn’t help but have a bit more notice for the audaciously crafted mare. She was not the simple, tasteful beauty of Kahlua, one that spoke of stars and misty, moonlit nights and a heritage true and resilient; Adele was wild, an ember in the heart of Nieque, her splendid array of magical elements blending with the placid features of the equine in such a way that Dragomir felt an inclination to say she was tied more closely to the old magic that had created their species than his teacher.

Her mane flickers and twists, always moving, a driving force that sought to change everything for no reason other than the thrill, and yet she was bound to the earth and kept a bonded born of the same powers that drove her unique, pyrotechnic hair and fed the odd colors into her pelt. She was fascinating, almost as much as the dragon twins were, and to those two he felt great gratitude that he did not stare at Adele as he had sweet Semira and proud Amaris.

The games of the dragon, at least, game him a good reason to watch her while pretending to observe the jut of flame breaking from the playful white’s maw, or her delighted prance upon the mare’s crimson back. A smile lingers on his lips, friendly and humored and entirely true in its presence, ears angled forward to listen to Adele’s further explanation of the dragon’s role in an equines life, the enthusiastic outburst of Marco drawing his eyes and face back to the stallion with a laugh loitering on the edges of his lips, hardly restrained.

He’d been much younger than Marco when that same light of pride had first burned in his eyes, so young he couldn’t even remember exactly when it had been; all he knew is that one day, he’d asked about Nidhoggr and Israfel, and his mother had told him all that she could share about the gifts that their God had blessed them with, the blessed bond between a mortal and a wyvern. His father, too, had instilled a great pride in the boy’s heart for the people he had been born from, and so it was endlessly amusing to him to watch it happening in one so aged as Marco.

Dragomir could tell him many more stories of the first horses, watch as the fires grew and grew until they consumed the smaller man’s soul as they had his own. Surely, he has learned to keep the blazes in place, at least better than he had known in the first place, relying on his own actions and hoping for a world where others could come to appreciate their origins as he did, and hold them sacred.

While it made him sad to think that these laws made many he had met smutty marks of failure (the dragon girls, and what of Roskuld, and Ranjiri?), it was all he had to hold together the person he was in light of who his new friends wanted him to be. Even if it meant that, one day, the magical encounters he’d experienced with them all would never happen again to a soul born in later years, their existence bred out of history, he knew it was the better way for the world to be. The Gods had not meant for the species to mingle as they did – why else separate each from the other to begin with?

If only he knew who Roskuld was, his convictions might be shaken so heavily he cannot recover. But these are lessons for later days, and so he is still stubbornly foolish and proud of a God left dead in a land He had failed.

"If you’re lucky, yes," he says, a tinge of the usual worry he feels when thinking about such things leaking into his tones, "not every equine gets to bond. Fate must chose you, first, as it chose Adele to find Vera."

It’s a common fear, for Dragomir, that he will die never knowing the love of a dragon.

@[Adele] @[Marco]


Dragomir</style>
where light shines, shadows will stretch</style>