When the dragon addresses her, she does not expect it so she jumps a little in her skin when she returns her attention to him. For some reason, she had not expected him to speak. She can sense now, though, that there is an equine mind beneath the scaly exterior - a shapeshifter then? Like her mother, but certainly not as fluffy as Agetta’s favourite form. It’s an effort to reign in her magic before it can go any further, she has no wish to probe accidentally into someone’s mind again.
“Pretty is not the word I would use for you, no.” But Beyza does not elaborate, because she’s not sure what the appropriate word would be. Something close to intimidating, though she is not truly intimidated by him. Unique? She had not met any other dragons before. Instead she watches him for a moment with her crystalline eyes, unblinking as her head tilts in her regard. For a moment she is unfazed but a small sense of delight washes over her when he changes colour too - a beautiful shade of white cascading over his body, one to match hers.
She likes him better this way, though she does not say so (it would be rude, would it not?). But she smiles.
When he responds to the twilight mare, Beyza returns her attention to her as well - her draconic wings fluttering slightly at her side when she shifts. She frowns but says nothing, her own curiosity is tied up in her inability to explain what she is thinking and her wish to also know the answer to the question posed by the dragon. What could possibly be worth holding onto pain? Nothing she knew of, to be sure. She had whisked away death once to save her sister, to spare herself and her family from pain. It has not occurred to her yet that there are people who would want pain.
BEYZA
something borrowed into something new |
