Common

Indeed, life on Salem has been idyllic for the young king since he stepped aside. Marceline has put herself to work gathering her family to her side, and had even made good on her promise to return Blackthorn to him. As far as he was concerned, he had it good: Marceline did all the hard work and Draco got to reap the benefits without lifting a single hoof.

Still, he finds himself growing restless. It's odd, to feel so ill at ease when he has so little to worry about. With Nyimara gone, Lucifer and Mazikeen allied to the Hills, and Marceline on the cusp of taking the Salem crown without so much as a single drop of blood shed, he should, by all measures, be perfectly content. But he feels that unscratchable itch beneath his skin, that inexplicable urge to do something. It sets his legs to wandering, and before long Draco finds himself upon the shores of the Commons, greeted by the sussurus of the wind through the leaves and the steady babble of voices from afar.

Truth be told, he hasn't any intentions in mind, no inclination towards finding a new prize to claim for himself. He simply wants to get away for awhile, escape the constant politicking and personal machinations that Marceline cannot seem to escape from. He sets himself up at the far edge of the clearing beneath the swaying branches of a young elm, the verdant spring grass tickling at his knees as he breathes deep the scent of fresh blossoms and fertile earth, content to while away the hours watching the world go by.

It is mid-afternoon when he first takes notice of a lone figure lingering opposite the clearing. She is a pretty thing, all pewter-and-ivory and silky silver hair. Draco spends a long while watching her from across the meadow, growing more intrigued with each tilt of her lips, each hopeful glance she offers at every passerby. Yet for all her naked optimism, no one seems to pay her any mind. Draco feels a twinge of something foreign within his breast - pity, he thinks it must be, for how she seems to go largely unnoticed. This, Draco thinks, is not something he can abide by. If it is company she is hoping for, or the chance to cultivate a true connection, then he would be pleased to offer her both.

Draco sets off across the clearing at a leisurely trot.

"These other boys must be blind to not notice you standing here," Draco remarks as he approaches, a lighthearted lilt to his words. "Shame on them, I suppose." Their failure, his feat. The salt-crusted tresses of his tail flick idly against his hindquarters as he regards her with a curious look from beneath the pale curtain of his forelock. "I'm Draco. What is it you're hoping to find here in the Commons?" Whatever it was, Draco was prepared to give it to her, if only she were bold enough to ask.