Moonstone Quarry L.O.V.E./E.V.O.L.

Drogon shifts his weight awkwardly when Witchbaby admits that she’d been traveling with a friend — and it’s obvious that the friend means something to her — but that Witchbaby lost her. The extent of the word “lost” is unknown to Drogon but he hesitates because he has no idea what to say. He feels like he should offer some form of sympathy but he can’t actually sympathize because he’s never had any friends and he certainly doesn’t know what it’s like to lose one. He’s lost his family ( in truth, he’s lost so much more with memories that he’s forced himself to forget to cope ) but he isn’t sure if it’s the same thing. “Oh,” Is all Drogon offers. He’s used to being alone and wonders if he’s right in that course. Cascada had begun to mean something to him but at the first notion of it Drogon had panicked and bolted like a spooked horse.

Witchbaby is confident that they’re not stuck here and Drogon casts a forlorn look at her, studying her cut with a low huff. “Right,” The tundrian rasps — unable to hide the wry undertone in his deep, smoke steeped whisky tone. “Maybe we won’t take the path you took to get down here.” He contemplates aloud. Admittedly, as far as companionship in the potential death pit goes, Drogon can’t complain. He could have done much worse. At least she’s charming in her own, unique way. “but just because I got down my path in one piece doesn’t necessarily mean we can use it as a way out either.” He glimpses around then, turning in a full circle before he pauses at the pool and laps at the cool, crystalline water to sate his thirst.