Yes, Ashton thought to himself, yes he was those things. Strong, proud, fierce. Predator. Hearing Ambriel confirm them was still satisfying to the dragon, and he relaxed enough to keep from flying off, his wingbeat flattening the grass that wasn't torn up and spreading dirt from the rows that had been tilled with his spikes.
Not a monster. Not a demon.
Ashton gave a pleased brass sounding croon and dropped back down, claws digging for purchase and shaking his head and all down his body as though literally shaking off his previous anger and agitation. The ripple ended at the tip of his tail and then, like folding of black paper, his attack spines and spikes and bladed tips laid back down against his scales in a relaxed position. "I am still hungry," he complained, dipping his nose to touch Ambriel's outstretched hand, nostrils flaring as if smelling to see if the angel had any food on him.