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Nightray is nothing short of one of the most terrifying dragons to encounter in one's natural lifespan. He communicates little--wouldn't want to even if he could speak--and doesn't take being treated "disrespectfully" well at all.
His very stance screams "don't bother me." In fact, just to keep others away he's been known to take off into the air and leisurely fly away in the middle of a conversation. Who knows what he's really thinking?
The twilight air felt the same comforting it did everytime Nightray flew: cool, quiet, and predictable. The wind buffeted his wings and cloak gently, just enough for him to feel it; enough for him to savor it.
He closed his eyes.
The air was trustworthy. The air couldn't betray you. The air was home.
Where Nightray felt judging, harshness, and fear from other dragons, he felt acceptance, patience, and love from the cradling winds. It was so much easier to push all the other dragons away and protect himself first. The others could fill him with such... frustration. Why does everything always have to have meaning? Why does everybody always have to ask questions?
Sometimes dragons just need their space. They don't want to have someone else's curiosity put before their own comfort. Nightray knows this best.
He opens his tightly shut eyes, takes a deep breath, and descends.
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