His voice — it was still cold and stony. Dripping with frost like a melting icicle — refusing to melt. Asny supposed that was to be expected from someone who guards the borders of his own home. A part of her even envies the unmoving confidence he has that she wishes for herself. However, and unless she’d been mistaken, there was a touch of warmth to be felt within his words. Even as he stood before the stranger he had no business conversing with. Hues of warm whiskey slowly trail up to meet gilded silver, and it stays as such. At least for now.

Dawnbreak — he called this place. Though the name held no recollection, it was nice to finally be given something. The dragoness inhales a breath and flutters her eyes shut — nothing within her memories to remind her of such, yet no sharp pain with her skull followed. Maybe, she thought, this was a good sign that she’d been close. Yes, of course. Asny understands Skuggamaður (Shadowman) She nods cooperatively — after all, it didn’t make sense that she showed up for no reason. Anyone would want to know that — even Asny….who couldn’t quite find the answer. Quitely, she pondered.

Asny….does not know what draws her to this vale, but…..Asny only knows it is farmilar…..comfortable….

Home.

Yet she didn’t expect the man to understand her confusing expectation. Instead, she looked back to him with pleading eyes, in hopes that he’d understand these words — to where she could not.