Her modesty is becoming, yet Lace can't help but wonder in his mind whether it was truly honest. Surely every mare compared herself to the rest, struggling to measure up to, and overcome, her peers the same way a stallion might attempt to increase his own bulk, practice sparring and otherwise compete for honor and glory? Perhaps it was cynical of him to think it, but in his experience there wasn't a horse out there that wasn't well aware of their own boons and cons. The only thing that seemed to differ was the amount of attention they tried to draw to themselves - in other words, their own levels of confidence in themselves.
He had been much more flamboyant when he was younger. Never hesitating to prance and show off before others, he had been so sure of his own value. Of course he had been quite aware that he wasn't the best at everything, but with the confidence of youth he had been sure that time could only make him better, smarter, stronger and more handsome. Time, being the cruel lord it was, had however proven him quite differently. Instead of moving to the top of his herd he had been sent running for his life as catastrophe descended upon them, and once away from the relatively peaceful birth-land (in so much as there weren't any living gods, foreign races or magic to unleash upon one another, only hoof and tooth) he had quickly learned how little he actually knew. And after Isilme... well. Lets just say that he was glad to be alive and that other things mattered very little in comparison.

Perhaps this dispirited view of the world was why the gray strider disregarded the coy invitation with nothing more than a distant smile, clearly not about to take the girl up on her invitation - at least not in the meaning she might have hoped. "Please, Lace is enough" he insisted as he stepped back, the sleek coat now less waterlogged and with the tassels shimmering clean and airy down the arched neck. "I would love to visit the Falls again someday. Perhaps I will see you there if I do - a friendly face is always welcome." He settle in quite comfortably after that, feeling no particular need to go out into the rain again now that the weather is taking a turn for the worse. When he stopped moving around the dragon move over to settle on his back instead, her travel through the air a quick and silent affair that ends in a content purring sound as she curl up on his rump, duck the head down beneath a wing and go settle in to rest.

Lace, meanwhile, gave the young lady a long look as she inquire about his statement about rapid healing. It was a strange look, thoughtful and considering and oddly closed, as though he wasn't sure whether to answer or not; "Oh, I don't know about that" he eventually murmur vaguely with a nonchalant flick of the tail. "It depends on your definition of average, and seeing as I'm not..." He trail off, a hint of a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth as he give her a quick wink that could mean anything and nothing. "As for the Throat... Dragon's Throat is the full name, it is a land south of here located in the desert. Very arid and dry, the summer days are hot and the nights cold, the sky is vast and the stars so close it seems you can reach out and pluck them down. I suppose it's aptly named - not that I know anything about the conditions of any dragon's throats. Mine says hers is quite well moisturized."

A slight, amused smile flicker across his maw at this, the dark lips expressive as his mood comes and goes. As he speak the golden gaze dance around the structure, every now and then returning to rest upon the flaxen dame. "How come you're so far away from home?" he eventually asked, tone casually curious as though the topic still was on the weather.

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