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04-17-2014, 09:26 AM
DRAGOMIR Nodding to her gentle murmur of Kaj’s full title, he himself ponders what precisely he feels about the newest male to take charge of the band in the misty wood. He doesn’t really know him, that’s for sure, but he’s not the proper species for Dragomir to entirely know how to predict his leadership abilities, his mind not well suited for understanding that there was little difference between leaders; there were only two kinds, after all, he just hadn’t come to that realization. Either way, the closeness that he sensed between the Stormbringer and his darling Kahlua was enough to rouse the green devils of envy in his chest, beasts he did his best to subdue. The Sunshower was not his, at least not in anymore ways than she belonged to all of the Edge, and he had sworn long ago that he wouldn’t allow himself to succumb to his emotions and drag her into his pit with him. He had been taught about fate, and love; he knew that one could not hunt these things, merely linger on a path until it stumbled from the brush before you. It did not make his frustrations any less intense, his muddled mindset on the rulers of his home set aside for the time to care for the last piece of the life he had first agreed to in this land. Everything else, as it always was, had been fate. He consigned himself to these facts. She pauses with him, her eyes bright with enthusiasm, and it fuels the smile that lingers on his lips. With pride abundant, he nods in agreement to her inquiries. "Well, yes, I suppose," he states, having never had the thought of making something as massive as the wall until now (never mind it had been his first experiences with the glass maker’s power), "I’ve only made a harness for Kahlua, some shoes for a guy named Tyradon. I don’t know if I’m talented enough to accomplish anything massive as the wall yet." Her next question leaves him stumped, not a name available in all his repertoire of names to offer her. Begrudgingly, he admits as much to her, sensing a brightness in the question that meant his answer would bring more sadness to her vibrant features. "No one, that I know," he says, apologetically glancing to his companion as they enter into the gleaming fields bordering the Threshold, leading down into the Thistle Meadow, "though we have two Moon Doctors. I’m sure the Lady Moon is too busy caring for the havoc the wraiths brought to be concerned with mortal inquiries, anyway… perhaps why she has not selected one to communicate with." CrafteR world's edge |
Any violence/magic is allowed to be used upon Dragomir at anytime, permitting it doesn't kill or seriously maim him without my permission <3
