Curious, gentle eyes watched him, drinking him like an alcoholic would swallow a refined scotch with appreciation and unwavering steadfastness. Son of Adalwulf, seemed to echo in her mind, as she considered just what that meant. Had he been raised by the grey stallion? Taught in the ways of supremacy, of world domination? Mirage's own views were equalist - she judged others based on the moral fibre that existed in their hearts - and she did truly hope that 'good' resided in everyone. Life was a balance to her, a delicate ying and yang, a dynamic equilibrium where the scales could be tipped either way at any given moment. There was no space for racism in her heart, her soul, that sought to always keep this balance.

Purpose, he said, and this pleased her, though she guarded herself well to refrain from reacting in any way to his words. It was best now, especially, to let him continue to unravel himself before her, so that she might know whether she could help him - or whether he could indeed help her. Aarde was what she heard next, and she recalled swiftly now, the quest she had helped Gossamer with all those years ago, a task of searching for ingredients to ensure the colt's survival. If she hadn't helped then, what would have become of the demi god Isilme revered so? An internal scoff was had, a silent amusement shared between the bonded pair at the thought of fate, and its many intricate twists and turns. Our noble people was received next, and the emphasis was not lost on the mare - though still, she remained immobile, impassive, thoughtful.

A breath was inhaled, and as it was exhaled, the mare seemed to move with liquid motion. Shadows danced all around her, seemingly unwiling to release her inky form from their hold, as she angled her path to surround the stallion - openly absorbing all that his physique had to offer. Reaching a muzzle out to him, she might have ran her whiskers along his spine, breathing in his scent, letting her own breath cascade over him. Akaith did similar, leaning over her bonded's nape so that she came quite close to him, purring a low song every now and then as she made her own draconic assessment of him. He was built much like how she remembered Adalwulf to be, though he was younger, in body and mind, with the muscles of a traveller already making their mark upon him, giving her an idea of the potential he could become, if allowed.

And what would happen if he did reach that potential? Would he use that body and mind of his to conquer and rule? To exile all those who were her friends yet did not necessarily share the same species genome in their blood? Was that something she was willing to risk?

"Helovia runs at a different pace to Isilme." Her voice broke the silence that followed the cessation of her footsteps, as the mare aimed to stand parallel to this steed, shoulder to shoulder, her tiara tilted gently to better view him. She knew full well that he hadn't mentioned Isilme precisely, but she was more than happy to prove her knowledge to him by demonstrating their potential shared indirect history. "There are four Gods here, each of them taking the form of equine, unicorn and pegasus - at once." Here she paused, and regarded him with a level stare, daring him to react, to criticise, to be disgusted by it all. "The creators of this land do not take kindly to racism." She added in a quieter, but no less serious or significant tone.

"There are those within these lands that call me DragonHeart. There is a land, my home, called the World's Edge, where they call me their WeyrLeader." A weyr is where a dragon lays, Akaith's voice murmured within her, as Mirage flicked a single ear to the little queen that rested upon her nape, before refocussing upon Dragomir. "I judge those around me by what lays in their heart and souls. Not by what adorns their body." The tone she used was simple, matter-of-fact, not accusatory or demeaning - merely explaining how she operated in concise and clear ways. "What lays in your heart, Dragomir?" Here she tilted her tiara more, expressing her genuine curiosity, and perhaps a glimmer of hope behind those golden pools, hope that she had not made a mistake in lingering, in persisting to learn more about this very curious individual.