CASIMIRA
dragon-shifting daughter of ashhal and ryatah
Sometimes she wonders if she would have better control of the monster inside of her if she hadn’t died.
The day the star-dappled woman had killed her she had been so close to being an adult; so close to what she felt like was the beginning of a tentative control, a control that she had hoped to continue to strengthen. When she had been reborn it had felt like starting over, but with a new apprehension because she fully understood the magnitude of the strength that hummed beneath the seemingly placid surface. It ached to be unleashed, and there were nights – countless ones – where she debated stealing away to furthest depths of the forest and the tallest peaks of the mountains to just let it go. She was afraid, though, of being unable to change back, of being trapped in her dragon form and losing the sense of who she was.
And the longer she lingered in the hearts of the land, the most she found reasons that she wanted to stay.
He tells her that it takes time, which though she already knew, it was still almost disappointing. A part of her wished there was a quick fix, some magic spell that would give her the mastery and control that she so desired, instantly. She knew that was foolish and unrealistic, and she knew that she needed to accept that this was a part of her and work at it.
But sometimes she wishes she could have been just like her twin brother and been normal.
He asks her to try and make her scales disappear, and she visibly hesitates, looking at him with doubt in her pale blue eyes. He was still laying there, and while he didn’t appear to be a threat, her only interaction with another dragon had been the one that attacked her in Tephra.
Sucking in a deep breath in an effort to focus herself, the spines slowly recede, and the scales follow, leaving behind the porcelain-smooth of her white skin. Then, she closes her eyes for a few heartbeats, and when she reopens them they had adopted their draconic shape and the pupils reduced to reptilian slits.
She can feel that her previously racing pulse had begun to steady, and though some of her fear was beginning to dissipate, she is still cautious of the unknown stallion. “Casimira,” she answers him softly, studying his face for a moment and wondering is there was something about the mismatched colors of his eyes that seemed familiar. She refocuses, and with a rueful laugh she shakes her head, sending a shimmer of white forelock cascading in front of her eyes. “This probably seems ridiculous to you, that I’m afraid of something that is apart of me.” She is sure he has so many other ways he’d rather spend his day than with some stupid young girl that couldn’t do something so basic, and something that seemed so easy to him.
@[Santana]