He offers her the idea of training in both crafting and being a wise-one. She immidiately dismisses the idea. If she were to ever become the Storyteller, she'd focus on that. Would their be time to learn the art of craft? If we were to be attacked, would she not defend? Would she build small buildings and trap the opponents? Then again, it would not help in battle to be a Storyteller. Though a noble position, not one that can be of use in battle.

She slips out of the cell to face Midas head on, her voice dancing into the air as she speaks. "I do not deny that, but I figured I should be the best Genetrix possible before thinking about crafting." She pauses for a moment, thinking about the golden stallion's words. In reach? It surely is, but it's not an easy feat. She has no idea how Midas can rule and craft and fight. Doesn't it ever get tiring? Does it now wear him down? She imagines it would wear many down. The position of lead is a challenging one. With thirty horses complaining, causing issues, wanting to expand the land, wanting Midas to teach them to fight, and most likely many other things, it is surprising Midas even wants to continue. Has anyone ever asked him if he wants to continue?

"You've led other herds? Midas you always seem to amaze me." Though their conversation has not lasted long, Dröm has learnt much of the noble king. Every ounce of new knowledge is shocking-- in a good way. Accomplished, handsome, Kind, Czar, Sultan, Crafter, and Warrior. He has done more than she could ever dream about doing. He has accomplished her dreams. He has done what she has always wanted to do. She has wanted to lead, but she is afraid of what comes along with power. There will be betrayals, challenges, surprises, and much more. The dainty Arab would not last long. She wishes she could fight, be a tough and powerful mare. She wishes she could kick out knowing she'll hit her target and not hope she'll kind of get it. She doesn't her attacks to be dodged so easily, but this is hard for the mare to do. She was simply not bred for war, this is evident. And oh, how she wishes she was beautiful and kind, loved by many and hated by few. What a life?

"I would be scared to take on the position of lead. Aren't you ever nervous about it?" She suddenly. Finds herself uncomfortable. That question had been too personal! Should she say sorry? Pretend as if she had never asked it? "You don't have to answer, that was a personal question, my apologies." She politely smiles at him, still curious but she would understand if he refused to answer. Perhaps little Dröm should think before she speaks?