09-30-2017, 10:50 AM
if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes
His expression is taut, his mind's silent strife working him through the potential of Ciri leaving Hyaline. Amet isn't prepared for her to go, nor does he want her to leave him in the slightest, but the Dragon King cannot force her to remain within the sanctum of his home; it's not in his nature, it would defeat the purpose of Hyaline altogether if he tried to force her. And so he mulls in silence - he had distracted himself with a conversation with Sakir briefly, but nevertheless his thoughts return to the starry-eyed girl who'd washed up on the lake shore.
A breathy sigh falls from his lips as he sees her, fleetingly, through the flowering boughs of his wisteria and red maple. She's on a mission, it would seem, and Amet spies an opportunity to play the part of the diplomat but also spend more time with the scarred mare. His lips twitch ever so slightly into a smile as he turns his gilded frame and weaves between the trees, pursuing Ciri at a comfortable pace. They move ever closer to the lake, the noontime sun speckling them with its rays as they move beneath the trees. He's uncertain if the mare knows that he follows, though he doesn't call to catch her attention, instead opting to have her greet the visitor before he arrives.
When he breaks through the vibrant treeline and trots down the embankment towards the lake, his gold-flecked eyes catch sight of an old friend standing beside his akmar. A smile finds Amet's lips, the quandary of Ciri's residence thrust to the back of his mind so that she cannot see the worry that hands in the depths of his eyes, as he comes to a halt beside her, his muzzle resting briefly on her neck, and then cheek, and smiles merrily at the son of Nayl.
"Castile! It's been far too long," he offers to the dragon-winged stallion as he tosses his forelock from his bright amber eyes. "How have you been, my friend?" Amet inquires curiously of the tobiano, who he hadn't seen since Ivar had stolen him back to Sylva. The leather-plated King turns his warm gaze to Ciri, searching her eyes for any inclination of her feelings towards him, before offering: "Castile was here the night of the attack. Hyaline would have been much more damaged, were it not for his help."
Amet
@[Ciri] @[Castile]