Drogon

Drogon does not know Faolain well enough to know if her shrinking-violet act is a ruse or not, but given what little he knows of her, he cannot help but suspect. Rumors had placed her as a strong and independent lead of the Ridge when the crown was hers; the sort of mare not only able to keep up with Rougaru's schemes, but to match him in checkmate more than once.

That same mare had not emerged on the Ridge's beach, if she were to be believed. But Drogon did not trust easily, especially not those whose very existence seemed to bend the ears of each leader that he encountered. Rougaru. Charybdis. And now Tyr. All of them seemed inclined to protect her, to hide her, to safeguard her.

It would have to be an especially intricate act to keep up for this long, and one he could not see the end goal of, but he could not bring himself to trust her fully. Especially not as she shrunk away from him as though he were dangerous, as though he were not one of the few Charybdis had tasked to help in protecting her.

There was a game here, if only he could find it.

Thankfully, the giant brute does not seem inclined to act immediately on Faolain's charade and so Drogon turns his attention back to Tyr as he offers an out - both to the conversation, and to the possibility of needing to go home hunting. As the golden monster finishes, Drogon answers. "The Ridge is our home," he offers, extending an olive branch for Faolain to shelter beneath if she wished. "I would not seek to harm her." His gaze ghosts across the broken mare, lingering for a moment before rising back to Tyr again. "You have my thanks."

The dark stallion was not yet sure of how Faolain and Tyr were connected, but he knew better than to let an old leader that had hated his family - no matter how broken she appeared to be now - get too cozy with an unknown entity like this new leader. He could not rightly stop them from associating, but perhaps he could coax her toward a different path. Toward someone Drogon could manipulate just a little easier. More gently this time, offered another branch, this one more gnarled and mysterious, the limb knotted and stained with the jungle's shadows. "Wulfric looks for you," he murmured to her, and then turned to depart, wondering if she would take the bait.

Can you feel it?