But his attention was drawn, inevitably, to Jörmungandr. He smiled and bowed his head to the dragon of the sea in acknowledgement of the great beast's words. Actually, he was familiar with the name, courtesy of his mother's late night stories of dragons of great renown and great size, of legendary tasks. But he'd never heard the tales about the little dragons, which made him wonder now. Yet he hadn't time to linger long on those thoughts, for there was a growing sense of pleasure when Jörmungandr volunteered to get the stones for him, and asked nought in return. Merely tasked him with rigging up something to carry them in. And then the great dragon was gone, diving beneath the waves and taking the rain with him.
Snorting softly, Vikram retreated to the shore, shaking the salty water from his wings for now. "What do you think would be the best way to carry the stones?" He inquired of mare and dragon, glancing back to them before sending his gaze down the shoreline that was now strewn with debris washed up by the waves that Jörmungandr had kicked up. One thing caught his eye, and he paced over to sniff at the empty shell of a turtle. It was rather expansive in size, if shallow. Contemplatively the hybrid nudged the edge of the shell. "Perhaps we can set up some sort of carry-all with this."