CASIMIRA
dragon-shifting daughter of ashhal and ryatah
She is alone, and she is used to it, but it is a strange thing after not being alone for so long.
She had not expected to grow used to it, again, and not so quickly. Rhysa was grown and gone, and Badden...she pushes thoughts of him aside, because that is what she has always been best at. Burying things that she does not want, or does not know how, to deal with. Her dragon, usually, or in this case, her heart. She takes the confusion and the hurt and the loneliness and she tucks it away with every other heavy, shadowed feeling she has had, and she remembers what it is to be alone.
She thinks that maybe this is how she was meant to be.
Alone.
Always.
It is easy to pretend that she is not, though, when she comes to the meadow. It is late in the morning, and though the air is cold and the clouds above promise a snowfall, the meadow is busy as always. They huddle together in groups, their conversations mingling into a hushed kind of chaos. She does not pay particularly close attention to any of them, though in the back of her mind she does think of how when they were younger she and Cassian would race their way in and out of the crowds, completely oblivious to anyone and everyone.
She forgets that she had been so carefree once, almost as quickly as she forgets what it had been like to have love.
Behind a veil of bright white forelock she lifts her ice blue eyes, and when they accidentally lock with that of someone else she finds herself suddenly coming to a stop.