Surprise, pure astonishment really, widened the girl's eyes and stiffened her posture. So stunned was she, that the colt had already bumped his muzzle against hers and danced his little dance before she even completely registered his words. Lace? Father? And he had sent this steed, as yet unnamed, forth to search for her? Amaris had not known that Lace had left Helovia (again?), had only ever thought of him as a faraway father figure herself - perhaps he was father to her equine side, while Vikrum was father to her draconic side? - but she supposed she shouldn't be so surprised. The girl remembered meeting the steed for the first time, catching him in an embrace with her mother, watching, observing him as he stared adoringly at her. She remembered the first thing she ever asked him, the first question to ever pass her lips - do you love my mother? - and she remembered his reply - yes..

It was all a bit much for the girl, and she found her quizzical thoughts unwittingly cascading over onto the dragon she had brought back from the spirit world. He was a rogue, a wild drake in his former life, and so manners were not his forte, as he danced amongst the shadows of the equine's bodies. Amaris was used to such antics, naturally, but she had to learn to be more aware that others were not always so at ease. It chirruped and trilled in confusion at the sudden flood of information and feelings it felt from her, and as the stallion before her overreacted, Amaris backed up some steps and swiftly murmured a soft tone, "Putta," which reigned the little black smudge in. "Amin lle n'alaquel" she added quietly, murmuring to the drake as its spirit light settled in the groove upon her withers, perched between the bony, muscular protrusions of the base of her wings.

"Please, be at peace, sir. He was only young when he passed away," the girl tried to explain, "and a wild drake in his old life. I have the ability to call them back from their afterlives, to learn from them." A wry ear flicked backwards to the black, who chirped innocently from his perch. "Though their lessons aren't always clear." She was used to explaining herself and her magic, and she was slowly growing less disheartened about the fact that she simply was unusual, that others would never accept her straight away for who she was, but always judge her for the scales upon her hide (or, in this case, the rambunctious friends that she kept). "I'm sure he's sorry," she added, somewhere in there, she thought silently. A flood of questions danced upon the tip of her tongue, and oh, how she wanted to ask all of them. Most notably, who's your mother? but that would hardly be appropriate - the girl settled for what she hoped was the most practical question of all, one to show that she did care for Lace, and through Lace, this steed who claimed to be his son.

"Why did Lace send you to Helovia?"

Daniel Schiersner @ flickr & larfsalot @ deviantart