He should have been intimidating. The sheer size of the male should have put Ramiel on edge, a learned habit, and yet, it hadn't. Instead, it ignited a curiosity. Familiar and yet, distinctly not. Perhaps it was the splash of crimson that made Ramiel recoil in recognition, his eyes desperate to find some kind of answer in the male's face. There was no Calista, though - her gentleness was lost in whatever blood Tera carried with her and had chosen to share in. It made his brows furrow into an even deeper crease - the other male, too, seemed just as confused. It was as if the pair of them sought the same thing and yet, they had started on opposite sides of the field. When he spoke, however, Ramiel had to answer for it. He relaxed his face, his head tilted slightly as he took another moment to observe Ragnarok before he spoke. So, at least he knew the feeling was mutual. At least, it seemed to be that way.

"I cannot say for sure," he breathed, his breath revealing all too clearly the uncertainty he felt, "though, something tells me I do. Your name. Who gave it to you?"

It might have been an unusual question and yet, it would at least give Ramiel some insight. For whatever reason, he could at least remember the names of his grandparents and aunties well enough. Heyel, Zeivah, Tera, Isola... the names were practically a part of him. He remembered Alcide, too, and Moonglow. Daenerys, especially, or at least parts of her. He remembered the fields, though not the words spoken in them. He remembered her but not the strength she had always had, even as a child. They were all but ghosts lost to waves of new faces and names and yet, looking at Ragnarok made him think: he had to remember. He had to try at least. It made his teeth press down on one another as he stared down at his paws, his ears twisted back slightly. What had made it so hard? Surely it had not been that long. Memories had to be stronger than that.

The moment he heard her voice, however, things shifted. He practically felt his legs wobble with the impact of her singular word: his name, spoken with a voice so much stronger than she had once had. He had to catch himself as he took an uncertain step back, his head raising and fast finding her ashen form on the mountainside. She had grown where he had not. Tall now, with the strength of her parents; even with her body quivering in excitement, he could not ignore the obvious confidence she carried. It made his breath catch for a moment, and yet he could at least not, dumbly at first but soon enough with conviction. It was him. He had come back. Ramiel had become a revenant perhaps, but it didn't change the fact.

"Daenerys," it felt good to say her name, his features finally falling into those of somebody more relaxed. His eyes rested on her, though they shifted to Ragnarok every so often, attempting to reawaken whatever memories they might have had. "I didn't know where else to go."

It was not the apology he owed and yet, it felt right. He felt constrained by his words, his body and throat locked up by the shock of it all. He had come back to where had felt natural and now, he felt his heart slam against the inside of his chest. It was a new kind of nervousness that he had never felt before - he was afraid. He could not deny it. Despite her excitement, what if she did not want him back? What if he had burnt these bridges too long ago? He swallowed a dry lump in his throat, his tail waving stiffly in hesitation.

The hesitation and the sickness of nervousness had not been entirely his own, however. In fact, had he been more aware, he might have known such a thing had stirred the moment her golden form had appeared on the mountainside. Had he been more aware, he might have heard her long before it was too late. Instead, he turned towards her as she descended, coming towards them and taking her position by Ragnarok's side. The mere sight of her twisted his gut, and he could not help but step back with a sudden lack of breath. If he had believed the world had shifted when Daenerys had spoken his name, then certainly he expected the earth to shatter beneath him now. He tried for several seconds to speak, and yet, the words built up in the back of his throat, unable to escape. His eyes widened. What words could come out came out in a mess, quiet and fearful almost.

"I know her. I swear I know her," he half spoke to himself, trying to regain his composure. He felt shame tear through him like teeth through flesh - why could he not keep it together in front of them? Had he come back just to make a fool of himself? It was the best he could do though. The answers would not come and yet, his eyes could not break away from her.