A shining ruby dragon alights on the path before him, stopping his steady hooves in a sudden motion that sends his pouches wildly smacking about his sides and his dark, ivory streaked mane flying about his thick neck and surprised features, tangling about his fetlock adorned hind limbs in a messy array; his pale eyes land upon the scaled beast with an air of recognition that ignites golden sparks of hope through him.

He knows this dragon; it takes him only a few seconds to think of his name.

Valiance? he asks the healthy red, earning what he assumes is the click of greeting and returning his own cheerful smile – though he discovers, as the tree line rustles and the dragon’s bonded slips through, that the winged reptile was being bold for Resplendence.

Dragomir’s head lifts excitedly, his blue eyes vibrant with the happiness he feels to see her whole and well as he remembered her (still so small and dainty); they both are older, and it shows in the reservations on her face that, once, had been absent, allowing her pale pink bodice to bound towards those she loved with a carefree delight, that, in memory, and in contrast to her soft approach now and the question which slips from her lips (as if she has grown used to ghosts), almost make his heart ache.

Almost, except that he’s just so happy to see someone he knows after so long on his own, someone from a place that he remembered as home, as much as he recalled the Dragon Isle as such.

Resplendence! he says, stepping towards her and extending his muzzle in a traditional equine greeting, hoping to exchange breath with her for a moment, to smell the sweet grasses of the Edge upon her exhalations. But, as he moves near her, he is met with a strange smell, a smell that he had encountered once while on an emissary’s mission to a land ruled by some pegasus in golden armor. It had been about the woman who had challenged Kahlua, in a realm ruled by rivers and grasses.

Why did she smell like there, and not like home? The first lines of concern cross his face, the happy illusion that nothing had changed shattering almost as soon as it had solidified in his thoughts, and while he doesn’t pull away, he does feel the smallest part of his heart whither with fear that the Edge is no more.

He pulls away from her as a flash of white streaks towards the red, the two dragons twirling off into whatever mad wyvern world they resided in when together; standing among two bonded and the delight they shared with the dragons, Dragomir felt a familiar flash of envy and sadness that he hadn’t yet been so blessed.

Oh, well, he thinks, turning instead to address the stallion whom evidently belongs to the shining pearl dragon, and who also seems to know Resplendence. Something about him seems like Dragomir should know who he is, too, but he can’t recall – it’s a common problem for him, anyway, a direct consequence of not forfeiting his solitude unless absolutely necessary.

They meet eyes for a while, gold to blue, and the elder stag introduces himself first. Dragomir is glad for this because he never seems to say anything right, and it’s generally easier to get it at least close when someone else leads him into it. The familiarity of the stallion is explained – they had lived together, maybe, or he’d been in a story told to him at some point or another. It makes the tri-hued paint smile at the thought that he’d lived with so many absolute strangers.

Good to meet you, he says, looking to both the grullo and his dragon, I’m…

“DRAGOMIR!” comes a familiar female voice, answering for him, stealing his eyes away in a swift bend of his thick, chocolate neck to find the trees exploding open and an extremely familiar figure leaping towards him too fast to be stopped without running into him.

Her wing hangs low, its feathers torn. He notices this and his mouth becomes a slightly open frown, his pale eyes furrowing. But then he notices the boils, and his mouth opens entirely, the sky blue of his eyes nearly watering that his beautiful Ranjiri is obviously in such pain, and that no one, not even that stupid family of hers that she loved so much, had helped her.

And even though her wing is obviously damaged and sore, she sweeps it around him regardless of her suffering, the scent of her feathers blending with the sickness that covers her and the old blood of her wounds. For a moment he lets himself rest against her, not worrying about whether or not the boils are contagious, because he has missed her like she missed him.

He also knows how Ranjiri can be – she likes to pretend she’s much stronger than she is, and she is, after all, a girl. All girls want to be hugged when they’ve had a rough week, right?

After a moment he steps back, looking bashfully at the gathered faces around him, especially Lace (because he doesn’t really know him, and can’t help but wonder how he looks to the older male now). He nods in answer to Ranjiri’s enthusiastic statement of his return, flashing the gold and black mare a close lipped grin that tries its best to wash the worry away from the lines of his features.

Clearing his throat after a moment, he looks from his friends to the new face of the black pointed stallion, letting his ears fall back in the weight of the emotions that crossed his heart to know he had come home – only to find it falling apart again.

What happened to you, Ranjiri? he asks, concern lining his face, fear widening his eyes as he thinks of the last thing to besiege the land while he was here, did the wraiths come back?


@Resplendence