Sleeping Dragon her eyes hold thunder and her blood is magma

He's watching her carefully in the hazy warmth of the morning light, and nothing to do with her reception of him suggests he leave. Her greeting, then gesture, serve as effective confirmation so without a measure of haste, he takes the chance to come closer. Once there, his sights are pulled from her darkness and across the immediate scene however she does maintain his attentions with at least an ear angled her way.

"Not exactly," he chuffs with the faintest hint of laughter along with the words. He did not know what he had expected, honestly. At the very least, all he had need of then was some place to be until winter waned and he got back on his feet again. The Dragon served well for that and more. His feet were beneath him, firm and steadied, and while he still sorely misses Matteo and the Rise, it is not an constant burden when there's guarding and warfare and a perpetually ongoing list of events to be had. "It's good -- not the conflict itself, necessarily, but the keeping busy and knowing what we can do." It certainly gave him plenty to do, even if did not always understand every intricacies of the matters at hand. "I don't mind." he adds. He certainly likes the sensation of their overall strength.