It is good to meet you, Osiris of the Grey. The large hybrid witholds a sigh, glancing over with sleek eyes for a moment. Was it really? He hardly believed any aside from Ophelia had ever been pleased to meet him. For a while, he had considered Virva to be part of that list. Now, however, as he stares into the dark shadows behind the head of Destrier, he knows that he had been foolish. Ophelia was a strange girl, but she had always been. Virva had been grounded and well-minded. Only the strange were able to tolerate those who were also oddities. It had been a dream of his from the start, nothing else.

And this stallion. He may be a bit dimwitted to walk into a pack of wolves feasting on flesh, but he did not seem like an odd character. Perhaps there was something within the mind of this boy the wolf could not see. Oddities hide often enough, but Osiris did not see anything overtly unsettling about this character. Ophelia had aged eyes as a filly. This one just has a coat as dark as night and a strange sense of pleasure, apparently. Maybe, hopefully, he was just being polite.

Osiris grunts in response to the nicety, however, not offering any insight to his feelings about it. The wolf was uncertain whether or not it was good to have met Destrier of the World's Edge yet. He doubted that he would ever find out. As the stallion begins to narrow in on a point, however, the hybrid turns to face him. Gruff, rough face looks at the stallion with narrowed eyes until his tongue finally spits out his purpose. The hybrid appears almost displeased, until a small smile on his face grows into a small chuckle.

"I am no dragon, boy," he says with a rich baritone voice. "So, I believe the one who you would owe a favor is Comadre." Hearing his name, the little black coos and swirls over toward Destrier. Violet eyes stare intently at the stallion before a nightmarish yet innocent smile of pointed teeth breaks between scaled lips. "Esssssssssstreeee," the reptile purrs the name as best he can, before reaching back toward his tail and wrestling out a scale. When the strange shaped object dislodges from the skin beneath, the dragon is sent reeling back in the air with a thrilling coo before leathery wings stabilize him. Flapping back toward the stallion, the dragon offers forth the scale, smile still intact.

"Gfffft," he says. Gift. Comadre has made another friend for the small price of a sore heiny.
Great.
""