"Excuse--" Asbel snapped his mouth shut in sudden embarrassment and turned as pink as Frey, if for different reasons. "You've never been nice before -- what was I supposed to think?" he retorted. If Frey really had been making an attempt to be sociable -- and in hindsight, Asbel felt inclined to believe this was so -- then the phoenix may have ruined the only chance he had of being not-enemies with the hated prince. But the prince was back so quickly to being sharp that Asbel could not help but bristle in response.

"It takes more than one nice word to make you trustworthy." With that final word on the matter, the phoenix let go of Frey's harness and rested his hands on the saddle instead, even if that made the ride more tumultuous than pleasant.

Augustine, meanwhile, had learned to brush off Frey's spitfire responses. The words still stung like barbs, but they were not so sharp as to make him cry as they had when they were younger. Besides, Frey had not matured even as Augustine had, and the elder prince found that easy grounds for dismissing Frey's insults as meaningless tantrums.

The storm clouds, anyway, were far more concerning, and the general watched, brow furrowed, as they loomed closer. "Descend, Cassius," he ordered, touching a hand to the side of the dragon's neck in soft concern. "We don't want you hit."

The dragon rumbled in response and rolled forward in a steep dive -- and despite himself, Asbel yelped and caught again the back of Frey's harness as the earth tilted beneath them and rose far too fast.