Stand face to face with your god
Something vicious kicks all the air out of her chest as the flame curls around her ankles. There is little time to react before it drags her swiftly back into the water. It occurs to her, as she splashes back into the freezing current, that they are nothing alike. Dragons both, yes, but their magic is not the same.
There is a moment of hesitation while she decides how to proceed. Should she unleash the vicious tongue, gnash the sharp teeth, surrender to whatever murky fury exists in her? Or continue the charade?
In the end, she simpers. Exhales a peel of bell-song laughter. Tilts her head like this is all some kind of wonderful joke. Like she is so deeply enthralled by it all. Wide-eyed and breathless in her wonder. What an exceptional adventure, that coy simper says.
“What would you call me?” she asks. A dangerous thing to ask, certainly, because there is no guarantee that she’ll like his answer. He moves closer again, lifts his wing as if to invite her back into the heat. Were she not so entrenched in this fantasy, she would have shrugged it off, stayed rooted several feet away. But she is the damsel so she sinks against him again, feels the heat of his skin pulse against hers.
