CASIMIRA
dragon-shifting daughter of ashhal and ryatah
She catches his eye, and she wonders if instead, she could just melt into the snow. She wonders if she could simply let the bright white of her blend into the snow-white of the winter landscape, let him blink and think she was a trick of the light, and watch him disappear.
That would have been the easiest thing, she knows, but she does not let it happen.
He was striking in a way that made her tongue feel dry, and her chest grows tight. Maybe it is because his colors are such a stark contrast against the white backdrop, and his green eyes find hers and hold them captive. Or perhaps it is because for a reason she cannot explain, she thinks of Badden. In the wake of those first few thoughts - the ones that label the stranger as intriguing and attractive, the ones where she finds herself wanting to stay - there is guilt that blooms inside of her chest, twisted like vines around her ribcage.
Perhaps she was more like her mother than she has ever realized because she is surprised at how quickly she can suffocate the guilt until it dies.
“Not really,” she answers him with a faint smile, looking at him from snowflake-lined lashes and bright, clear eyes. “It was always warm where I was born, but I’ve learned to get used to it.” She looks up towards the sky, watching the fresh flakes that fall, and the way they spin and swirl. “It’s beautiful, though, so it’s worth it.” Her gaze lowers again, settling on the handsome face of the stranger. There is something else about him that lures her in, something that feels familiar. It’s a peculiar feeling, and instead of being reassured by it, it feels like a whisper of warning in the back of her mind.
“I’m Casimira,” she says to him, ignoring whatever that voice is trying to tell her.