He seemed hesitant, and yet, well-practised at the same time. Majestic was a word that could have described him aptly, Spanish and proud too, he was not poor put together at all; in fact, he was quite a fine specimen. At least, that’s what outwardly appearances gave light to. This little mare knew well enough what an individual was capable of displaying on the outside, when one’s insides were churning; it was her everyday practise. An exterior of cool indifference plagued her visage, her bodice was always held with an elegance that seemed effortless, even her dragon merely floated upon the breeze beside her most of the time. But within the mistress’ heart? Inside her emotions were almost always in a tumult, a beautiful pot of chaos waiting to simmer over the edges of that stone pot of unconcern. The sheer magnitude of her emotions were often dangerous, what was normal for another individual was table scraps for her; she felt so much love that she could love many individuals equally simultaneously – problematic when those individuals were only capable of loving just one other at a time. Hatred rarely showed itself, unless one of those she loved was harmed, then she usually exacted her revenge with a razor edged accuracy that astonished even her sometimes. But it was the fiery rage that she had to control, the hazy condition her father often suffered from, that stole its energy away from all her senses, and drove her to do things that her otherwise cool nature would never have dared. With these things running rampart within her, it was no wonder she trained herself to be ever-calm, ever-devious, ever-nonchalant.

Charcoal flutes absorbed the words he spoke with the same tired rehearsed moves that he proffered the words with. He spoke them like one would recite a dull tale, and the mare had to wonder at the blandness of it. Surely this steed, with his prowess and majesty, had more to say than simply moving on from one place to another? Akaith’s eyes narrowed at him, though Mirage did nothing more but appear to accept his story. The dragon’s piercing stare with multi-faceted eyes swirling various shades of the rainbow intended to cut right through him, the queenly one was not one to tolerate a story she found dull, but she didn’t do anything more than peer at him to get her point across. The mare had to give a hint of a smile at the steed’s surprise of her companion presence, some that came through the Threshold were educated on dragons, some were not, it was part of the pleasure of scouting through these borderlands, she never knew who she might come across.

“Indeed, she is a dragon, a queen one at that.” The mare spoke in soft, informative tones, her accent shaping the words into a pleasant harmony. “Akaith is her name, Mirage is my own.” For a mere second her form seemed to shimmer under the blurry cloak she often donned, though it was so brief and instant the steed might have missed it should his eyes have chosen to blink at that same moment. “You tread upon lands that bend to a different rhythm than most.” She stated, her comment neither overly helpful nor unhelpful. She wondered if he would give his name to her, or if she would have to ask directly. “I too have heard many a story…” It was posed in an open way, one that subtly hinted at her dissatisfaction for being provided with a tale that was rather lacklustre compared to the appearance of the steed, but it was usually safe to assume that one was wandering away from something, a crime, a hurt, a betrayal; very rarely did Mirage come across an honest stallion looking to make things easier for his father’s herd. A trail of smoke escaped the nostrils of the dragon, who sat upon the haunches of the mare still, her keen gaze tracking that of the dappled brute’s. “What is it you seek to gain from arriving upon these borders today?” Asking a question that could be taken many ways, Mirage sought the answer not impolitely, but rather with a softer, friendlier tone –she meant to offer help should the steed feel her worthy of divulging such information. So far his refined appearance did not add up with the rehearsed tale, and she wondered how much probing she would have to do to gain more knowledge about the inner workings of the majestic fellow.