CASIMIRA
dragon-shifting daughter of ashhal and ryatah
Even in her dragon rage, she is so, incredibly, young. She is smaller than the adult male dragon that appears, and if it had been possible, there might have been fear that registered in her mind. But all she feels is the fire in her throat, and the need to dig her talons into something, anything. She does her best to make a conscious effort to keep herself between the other dragon and Leliana – and so focused she is that she does not notice when her scales become coated in a diamond armor, flashing and glistening as the water from the witch’s storm repels off, glimmering in the firelight.
She does not notice when another magician appears, and cannot feel the strength that he lends her queen. Her ice blue eyes are locked fiercely on Castile’s, their bodies darting and colliding over and over – teeth snapping, their talons ripping at what they can. She drops then suddenly, using her smaller form to her advantage to dip downward and beneath him, unleashing a plume of flame as she does so. But she can feel his talons as they scrape against her, and even though the diamond armor does its job and her skin remains unbroken, the force is enough to knock her off balance, and her focus is broken.
She is driven to the ground, but instead of colliding with the mud soaked earth, she is first knocked into the golden stallion that she had encountered when she arrived. Even though she is small in comparison to Castile, she is significantly larger than Ophanim. Scrambling for balance, with her vibrantly white wings flared out, she pays no mind to how she surely jostles him. She cannot explain the sudden rage that flares inside of her; this was all their fault. Try as she might, she cannot tap into the more logical side of her brain. Her attention span becomes that of a predator, and with Ophanim so close, she completely loses track of Castile. All she sees is the firebreathing stallion, and the mare from Sylva he had been threatening.
There is a moment’s pause, as she regards him, drawing herself upright to tower over him. There is a slow tilt of her draconic head, as the lightning overhead alights her temporary diamond armor, glistening like ice.
Her attack is fast, but it is merciless.
It would have been easy to just breathe fire into his face, but it didn’t feel satisfying. Instead, she reaches forward to snap at a feathered wing, not even caring what else her teeth and talons might slash in her attempt to find purchase on his flesh.
@[Castile] @[Ophanim]
I was told by Jassal to attack Ophie, so here we are.