"I am still not sure about that. I feel as if riding a dragon, or even one of the Alliance's gryphons, would be safer."

Those could be reasoned with, after all. A mechanical contraption...No. No. Call her craven, if you must, but even the Matriarch had her limits. She had just come upon one.

At the similarity between his hair and the chocobo's feathers became apparent, she stifled a chuckle, lifting her hand to hide her smile. It was hardly malicious, but it sounded...rusty. As if she were far too serious, most of the time.

Likely because that was the truth.

"We have black, white, blue, green, red, and pink hawkstriders, at home. Sometimes they wear fancy barding." Although sometimes, with the feathery crests they possessed, Liadrin felt they looked something like troll headdresses. No accounting for taste.

"Perhaps I shall have to try, though. A soothing blue, maybe. Still, thank you. I appreciate your help." She bowed to him, then. "I am Liadrin. You are?"

She isn't organically friendly, but she really is trying...