A particular breed of uneasiness turns inside of him. There is a reason for that, though he can't quite grasp at its form. His mother was a dragon... or... was she? Soren's eyes trace the shape of his deep red arm fins poking out from slots in his sleeves. He's been made to believe many lies about his own past, lies constructed to trick him into thinking he'd been born here. This could very well be one of them. He can't even remember his own mother's face, much less anything about her. And yet...

Shaking his head, he replies after a gravid pause. "Who knows what kind of reason lies in what we've become? You've never known magic, and yet you were made a witch."

It's enviable, he thinks with a hint of bitterness. Yes; as a dragon, his abilities are tremendous. But to not be so weak to what plagues this world, to have the versatility of magic and all the shapes it could take at his fingertips...

"Do you often find yourself asking why?" Or is it something a human would take for granted?