CASIMIRA
dragon-shifting daughter of ashhal and ryatah
She is relieved when the other mare seems friendly, but there is still a flush of heat that rises to her face at what she calls her. The dragon shifter. She wasn’t sure how she felt about being known as that here, but it wasn’t inaccurate. As far as she knew she was the only one in Hyaline that could shift into a dragon, but unlike many dragons, Casimira did not find any pride in that. She did not always like what she became in that form; did not like how hot her blood turned, how their faces warped from equine to simply being labeled as prey.
She had held it all together during the alliance, but has not shifted into a dragon since. Too often her nightmares consist of what could have happened had she lost control; how easily she could have snapped her opponent in between her jaws.
“Yes,” she finally answers, having realized she had been quiet for too long. “I don’t shift into it often.” She isn’t sure why she had offered that extra information, since Maze had not asked. She was feeling apprehensive, maybe, since she had grown accustomed to some asking her to shift—as if it was a trick, a flashy thing of show and theatrics. As if it was not an entirely different form from which she could set the hillsides ablaze and crush their bones to dust.
The bitterness in the other’s voice does not go unnoticed, and secretly she is grateful for a reason to direct the attention away from herself. “Your only trick?” A slight frown settles on her face, her blue eyes flickering with a faint concern. “Has the dark taken away your shifting?”
@[Mazikeen]