CASIMIRA
dragon-shifting daughter of ashhal and ryatah
She had not expected him to come, and it had been the foolish fantasy of a little girl to think that he might. For days after first running into Tarian and letting her hopes trick her into thinking he was a different gray pegasus she had been fighting the embers of humiliation that simmered at the core of her chest. She was not often one to fall prey to fanciful emotions. Even as a young girl, as she grappled with learning to control her dragon shifting, much of her carefree and mischievous spirit had been seemingly burnt away by the fire she struggled to keep cages, and in the ashes they left behind something much more solemn.
She has lived and died too many times to be caught up in such things; to ever dare to hope that someone would prove to be anything other than what they have shown her.
And maybe if he were anyone else, she would have eventually come to her senses. Maybe if he were not her father, not the man she had been thinking and wondering about for her entire life, she could have anchored herself back to reality.
But it seemed that, perhaps when it comes to him, she will always be a foolish little girl.
She is not thinking of Ashhal at this very moment, though. Her mind is always going nearly every direction, thoughts shooting off from each other like streams from a river, always seeming to roll ahead of her and each one of them begging her to follow it. The sight of the two gray stallions jars her from her thoughts, her mind leaping from it’s him, it’s not him, and then back to it ishim almost faster than she can grasp.
Her heart clenches in her chest, but so does her jaw, and without even thinking she erects the familiar shield she usually sheltered behind. She had learned, unfortunately, that as badly as she wanted her father to harbor even an ounce of affection for her that he simply does not, and that she cannot afford to let her guard down around him—just as she doesn’t for nearly anyone else.
“You two know each other?” she says as she approaches them, taking in the way Tarian seems to be looking at Ashhal as if he is not a stranger. It is on Tarian where her ice-blue eyes focus first, and the smile that she offers him is less poised and more genuine as she nods her head in greeting. “I’m glad to see you have decided to stay in Tephra, Tarian. I hope Altissima is enjoying it here, too,” she tells him kindly. While Tephra had several familiar, much more secluded faces—such as Nightlock and Wonder and their children—it was always a delight to see new ones discovering the beauty of the volcanic kingdom, and she was glad that this particular duo did not seem to plan on leaving.
And now, she turns her gaze to Ashhal, careful to keep the shield in place while not allowing her smile to turn into anything less than what she had just given Tarian—not letting herself turn entirely frigid for the sake of protecting herself. “Have you ever been to Tephra before?” It is the safest thing she can think of to say. She does not call him by name, or call him dad. She does not tell him that she had not thought he would ever come here, and she does not tell him that she is glad that he is here. She knows none of those are things that he wants to hear, but that same hope is trying to rekindle in her chest, and she thinks that if she is careful enough, he just might stay.
idk why this was so long, so if you dont want to read it, I entirely understand