as if a glass could contain the sea; any

[Amet]

if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes

It's nearly time for he and Iset to play the part of diplomats. They had secured their home, even as Pangea and the Plains had been ousted by the Fairy, and the young ruler knows that it won't be long before they are visited by refugees. Amet is hopeful that the young horses of those fallen territories would find their way to the Lake and would make it the sanctuary that he hopes it will become, but the dragon-king is not naive enough to think that growing their congregation will be done without hard work of his own.

A part of the scaled stallion is hopeful that Sakir will wish to take part in the politics, but they are still on unstable ground. Amet will ask in time, however, because Sakir had always been the most level-headed of the trio.

He sighs, exasperated, as he moves from beneath the budding springtime boughs of his favorite wisteria tree and to the southeast, towards Sylva. Nayl had told him about her first subkingdom, the forest ruled by Djinni, but he had been too busy bickering with Iset and cozy-ing up with Tang to even think about making his way over to introduce himself. He supposes that it's finally time. It seems, though, that he won't be able to follow through with today's plan.

Amet intercepts the intruder's scent with fluttering nostrils, the warm breeze carrying it in from the east. The dragon-king is neither alarmed or perturbed by this change in plans (and, in fact, has come to enjoy meeting the variety of equine that have slipped across their borders in the past months) and casually amends his route so that he is trotting swiftly towards the source of the smell. His metallic gold-and-bronze scales gleam in the afternoon sun as he rounds the crystalline lake with each sure-footed step.

"Hello!" he calls confidently when he is within ear-shot of the blue-pointed stallion. A pleasant smile finds his maw and the dragon-king pulls to a halt a few yards from the unfamiliar stallion, his head tilted slightly to the side in curiosity. "Welcome to the Lake. My name is Amet, and you are?" he questions warmly, nostrils fluttering again at the faint tinge of sulfur in the air.

Amet