CASIMIRA
dragon-shifting daughter of ashhal and ryatah
She almost regrets confessing what she had; that if she woke up without her shifting that she would not miss it. She regrets it because a part of her wonders if that was what he had liked about her; it seemed to be the only thing most liked about her. It was the only thing that made her interesting, the only thing that set her apart. Without it she was just another plain mare in a sea of vibrant colors and unique gifts; the kind that never would have held his attention for long.
The thought makes her uneasy, and she can feel a self-conscious heat rise up her neck, accompanied by a wash of dragon scales that ripple and disappear like a wave from the top of her neck and down her spine.
“You don’t have to be sorry,” she says perhaps a little too quickly, causing her voice to sound clipped. Her pale eyes flash to his apologetically, and she adds in a softer tone, “I’ve learned to live with it. I just avoid shifting.” She hopes that he does not point out to her that that is not a solution; it’s an escape. It’s her avoiding something she does not want to face or deal with, but every time she weighs the options, this is always the best one.
A sigh shudders from her chest, then, as she presses closer to rest her head against his shoulder. Her gaze drifts back towards the twins, and another smile touches her lips. “Of course they will be good,” she reaches to toy with one of the dark flowers tangled in his mane, “they come from you.”