OOC here! :: Word Count → 352
Drakien smiled warmly as she burrowed into his cloak, glad that she'd accepted it; he didn't want her to freeze to death, as the rain was quite cold. He, himself, moved over to Breixo and stole the woolen blanket off his back, making the poor Vanner protest the treatment. His grin widened when she bared her teeth playfully at his horse, and Breixo stomped his feet, breathing harshly and rolling his eyes. Drakien murmured a few soothing words to him, and then wrapped the blanket around his own shoulders, settling beside her and stretching his legs out. After a moment of eyeing the stranger warily, Breixo circled around behind them, laying down to lend his own warmth and causing his Luperci master to lean back against his creamy side.
Drakien's eyes danced as she complimented the music, feeling proud of himself and his heritage. "Yes, yes! Often played under rising moon, too." He added, thinking of the moonlit dancing and the bonfires that had colored his days in the past. Those that were held at night were especially fun, though of course they'd played in return for food during winter, when things got rough and foraging, hunting and rummaging weren't enough to get by. His gaze went far-off and distant as he thought back to those days, and he was only brought out of his contemplation by her words.
He smiled at her again, and nodded; she seemed rather young, so it didn't really surprise him that she hadn't heard gypsy music before. She probably hadn't even heard of the Romani, a theory which was proven when she questioned him a moment later. His grin returned full force, and he gestured grandly toward the east, explaining, "I come from a people, the Romani. We play our music always, and travel much. I learn many things there." He explained. Nodding toward the colorful fur cloak she had wrapped around her, he added, "They give me that as present, for service done to caravan. Not born gypsy, you see, but made one." He nodded, as his broken English made perfect sense to him.
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