They come, his brothers and sisters of the mist, to wish the Glazier sweet farewell. He’s not the sort to really get too involved with the emotional affairs of others, and so after pressing the idea that this was a meeting of goodbyes rather than welcome into the mind of the Queen he slipped into nonchalant silence, occasionally flicking an ear towards the rise of words or nodding in greeting to those who arrived.

He didn’t know Aaron, or his white haired mistress, and so he had little to add to the tearful words and heartfelt thanks that spread out towards the painted glass maker and his lady friend; he did as he thought his father would expect him to do in such a situation, as this man, while unknown to him but for his name and trade, was his brother in such a way that they both knew the blessing of the Moon’s magic – what he did not know, and perhaps never would, was that Aaron was closer to him than any other in the Edge, for his blood dripped the same shade as his own, descended from the same pool which Dragomir had been born of.

And so it comes as quite a shock to the quiet male that the attentions of the painted stallion turn to him as all the others close their farewells and he and his woman leave their own parting words to each, the young man lifting his ears and eyes to meet that of his departing fellow and smiling softly at the address.

It is quite obvious that they are strangers. He does not hold it against the painted stallion; Dragomir is not the sort to go out of his way to meet those he lives with, rather the type of man to ride the drifting wake of life and arrive upon whatever shore it deposited him on. Still, he can sense the responsibility being laid across his shoulders, and it seemingly presses him down into the loam of the forest. Swallowing his fears and discomforts with a slight quiver of his pale blue gaze, his smile does not falter and his deep voice does not break beneath the trembling of his small, humble soul. ”I will do well by them,” he says, hoping to lay to rest any worries that the stallion might have that Dragomir would be a failure in maintaining the happiness of the family he was leaving behind in search of his own story, his own ending, ”I wish you both luck in your search for happiness together.”

He does not state that he is here for either of them should they ever need something tooled from glass, or whatever other skills he might have acquired by then, for the others have all said as much in their farewells. He says only what he feels he needs to say to conclude the business of the greenhouse and all other projects that may fall after it, a few kind words imparted to a stranger and his mate who had, for a long while now, lived alongside him in the misty forest of the Edge.

He would never get to know him, just as he had not then.

Perhaps… it had always been meant to be that way.

[ OOC: Slow Bunnie is slow. :| ]
@[Kaj]