”She’s a fine looking woman,” says Tyradon, and Dragomir’s ears flit backwards for but a second until he realizes that this must be a means that men bond with each other. Its not like he has much experience with other males, anyway; it had seemed that, since his arrival to Helovia, he’d been surrounded by women, all soft curves and pretty eyes and tender souls. His father, as much as he’d tried to teach his son, had refrained from the more delicate subject of love and lust, leaving the boy with scant lessons in the matter that had trickled down from his mother; he knew he had the genetics to be useful in the field of courtship, at least from her. His father had given life to many children, Dragomir and his strange siblings Svello and Vihar included among the number, from many women.

It was normal to talk about females as conquests, he decided quite quickly, letting himself ease back into the conversation and awkwardly attempting to be a man for once in his innocent existence. That he is innocent is obvious in that he has completely missed the dark undertones of this stranger, even when confronted with the gleaming eyes of his war dragon, so easily swept under the truth by kind words and a friendly tone. That he is lonely and desperate for an outside source to regale his problems to only fuel the burning desire he has within him to not fail Tyradon during the length of this conversation.

He needs someone with the proper set of chromosomes, after all. There were things that ladies could not understand about growing men.

"She is beautiful," he agrees reluctantly, half expecting her to burst through the trees right at that moment, forcing him to deal with the issues he hid behind gleaming glass flowers, "and wise." Unsure how else to elaborate without delving into his endless fears that he was not a suitable counterpart for such a grand woman as she, he stares at the flowers in front of him. He can easily bring to mind the image of her standing alongside Kaj, or Lace, much more suitable and honorable men than himself, even though it pained him to think of his equine Goddess reproducing with a pegasus. It was not his place to judge her, not after all that he had done.

Not when she still showed him boundless kindness.

Cynder, much to Dragomir’s amusement, attempts to scald her bonded with a burning tail after a moment of silence in which he assumes words passed between their two minds, silent and unheard to him. It brings to mind a familiar sensation of being left out and a deep set anxiety that he is about to receive punishment or some long winded, boring story, reminded of the mental conversations between his parents and their dragons. Thankfully, it seems the words were based on his work, to which he smiles broadly and with a pride that floods him.

His smile lingers, though he attempts to smother it so as not to seem mocking, as Tyradon goes on to elaborate on his lack of fingers in comparison to his friend. The boy’s brows rise on his simple features as he hears the offer, not foolish enough to not expect something to be requested in return for the assistance being tossed at his hooves, but unable to know without asking. "Dragons are endlessly useful," he begins, slightly saddened for the billionth time in his life that he has yet to bond with one.

The only problem is that asking seems rude, and he’s not entirely sure how to go about it without seeming demanding. Either way, the Edge had plenty of dragons that he was sure would travel alongside their bonded to assist him if he only asked; the offer was not really of too much use to him, until a sudden idea washes over him, bringing a light to his face that burns and flickers with an inner enthusiasm. Our boy is smart, something he takes pride in, and Tyradon and Cynder are going to experience some of his lessons slowly gathered over years spent around the green’s wild kin.

"I’ve never tried it, you know," he says, words soft and rushed as he half heartedly gestures at the lack of dragon companion on his own shoulders, "but I’ve seen dragon’s flame in combination with cold water crack stone." Turning the nearest flower to him over with a soft, tinkling song, his blue eyes are misty with wonder as he replays the memory of two young dragons, battling it out for a mate alongside a waterfall; its enough to make a boy such as himself light headed, all the physics in play. "I’m sure you’ve seen metal and gemstones trapped in rock during your travels. Of more use than her fingers, her flame could gather things normally limited to those with the ability to move stone with their will. I have many uses in mind, for the metals, and especially diamonds, you see... I just haven’t been able to get a hold of any." He offers a blunted hoof to the air, about two foot from the earth, as proof, a gesture that almost mirrors the one Tyradon made to begin the topic on their teeth.

@[Tyradon]