He frown at her as she whisper her response, clearly struggling to comprehend what, exactly, it was that he had done to disappoint her. "You are disappointed because I'm not really happy?" he asks, incredulity lacing through his voice. He stop, halfway trough a turn, and stare at her with such intensity that the dragon squirm on his back, displeased with the level of attention he gives someone else.
"You're angry at me for not living up to whatever expectation of perfection you painted me out to have? You know Dröm, that's just stupid... I TOLD YOU TO STAY!" Just then she makes to bolt past him and Lace growl in frustration, beyond aggravated by her skittishness. Letting the girl slip past him and the hissing, spitting dragon he instead focus on the already churning mass of greenery outside, encouraging a particularly thorny shrub of climbing roses to shoot its vines up and around the rotunda, effectively creating a wall that not only shut out the wind and the rain but also made it impossible for either of them to get out in a hurry.
"Don't do that" he barks with distaste, already regretting that he shouted at her but nowhere near calm enough to apologize. "I told you I won't hurt you, just.. You will stay, and we will talk about this until I'm satisfied, alright?" He made no attempt to go closer to her. Considering her state of mind - which, in retrospect, he couldn't blame her for - she was more than likely to panic and hurt herself. Instead he moved to the place where she had stood, leaving nothing but the wall of thorny vines (roses had begun to blossom now, erupting like flowering fireworks as if in apology for the viciousness of the barbs) between Dröm and freedom.
Breathing in deeply in an attempt at calming himself down, Lace shook the head and glowered over at the girl, trying to pick up the thread where he had left the conversation. "As I said... It's stupid to think I'm going to be anything like what you'd expect. You don't know me for one, and for the second... " he paused, hesitating. He felt tired, yet the fire within craved an end to this, a close that made sense; it wouldn't let him rest until every rhetoric knot of this tangled web had been sorted out. "Why am I like 'every other stallion? I have no idea what you mean, please explain this to me?"
It was the best he could do at the moment, but as the black-faced stallion gazed over at the young mare he felt dispirited; the odds of her actually being willing to talk this out seemed minimal.
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[P] Silver trinkets and golden leather
