Even the way his name is formed reminds him of the years long ago, when all his friends had lived here, together, and the wood had been filled with the voices of dragons. Lifting his head from his drowsy rest and blinking the encroaching sleep from his sky-bright eyes, the somber stallion feels a pressure in his chest that feels like loss and happiness all in the same bundle.

It is not Semira, he notes, most immediately, but her sister, Amaris; of the two, he has been less close to the gold, than he was her cheerful sibling. Having shared many afternoons in the shade with the other dragon-mare of the Edge, it is joyful as much as it melancholy to see Amaris again. Not because she makes him sad – he’s quite happy to see her, actually, from the faint smile which traces his lips, and the way his lazy ears lift – but the memory of how much he missed her sister, and that the sight of her inspires that hole to become most poignantly clear.

He remains quiet when she makes her way towards him, her wings that, once might have frightened him, or made him nervous, now mostly just remind him of home, and the awkward boy he once was. She, like him, has changed, her demeanor less reserved and cool than it had been when they’d last met, replaced instead with a good natured cheer that all the more reminded him of long missing Semira. Other changes are less evident, and seek to elude his gaze; glancing up as a leaf tumbles down from above, he barely spies the gleam of gold through the boughs overhead, and figures, as she was surely bound to at some point in her life, the dragon-mare had bonded to a dragon worthy of her vibrant scales.

Just like her sister, Dragomir is unsure as to whether or not Amaris is aware of the sort of reverence her being inspires in a man who had been raised to believe dragons were sacred. That she so easily enfolds him in a conversation, much like her sister used to, is an enchantment that quickly steals him, and with an awkward smile, he does his best to accommodate the friendly Goddess in his crafting grove.

It is good to see you again too, Amaris, he warmly tells her, offering the mare his muzzle, to exchange breath in a traditional equine greeting (he didn’t have elemental breath to say hello as dragons did, after all); shy, as usual, what eye contact is made by Dragomir during this gesture (if she accepts) is minimal, especially with a gaze as harrowing as a dragoness’, I haven’t been home very long. Only since the end of Birdsong, when the Earth God sent his herd away.

In case she tries to apologize to him (most everyone else had), he offers her a warm smile, quickly adding:

I didn’t live there long, either, though, he chuckles, managing to find humor in it all, despite the rather frightening reason why the herd had been disbanded in the first place, it’s almost as if the Goddess or some other higher being wants me here. Who is your handsome friend, overhead?

He asks, knowing that one of the best ways to dragon's heart was flattery, and rather keen, himself, on getting to see the gold with better scrutiny.