CASIMIRA
dragon-shifting daughter of ashhal and ryatah
The relief that she feels when Ashhal touches down nearby is unmistakable, and one of the tense threads of worry inside of her chest loosens its hold. He looks irritated, but she has come to learn that is normal for him, and she doesn’t let that deter her. She is not aware that the strange immortality she and Cassian shared had been inherited from their father—that every time they died they were simply reborn later. Although, it likely would not have altered the worry that she felt even if she had known. Even with history proving that nothing could keep Cassian dead forever, there was still that fear of the unknown, that perhaps they had only been given a limited amount of lives, so to speak, and one day it would be their last.
“And so did you,” she tries to return his gruff greeting with a nonchalant observation of her own, but she is sure the relief is evident on her face. “Not the sea, no,” she says, letting her gaze turn to where the rivers of lava churned in the not far distance and she adds drily, “but we might be burned alive by lava.”
She is distracted from her father by the sound of small hoofbeats, and when she turns to find a very familiar looking young face stumbling towards her there is a strange mix of relief and despair that takes hold of her chest. “Cassian,” she can’t hide the exasperation in her tone at the sight of him, because she knows what this means—that he had somehow been killed, which means he had either been doing something stupid (likely), or he simply had bad luck (also likely). She reaches down to touch her nose to the top of his neck anyway, suddenly remembering the presence of their father and deciding she could save the lecture on watching out for lightning strikes for a different day.
“This is my twin brother, Cassian,” she steals a glance to Ashhal as she says this, forcing her voice to remain level, casual; refusing to let onto the fact that she is already afraid that he will be even more irritated by this new information. “He’s usually taller,” the statement is punctuated with a nip to Cassian’s shoulder, but she clears her throat, the brief show of playfulness waning when she introduces her brother to their father. “Cassian, this is Ashhal.”
She holds her breath as she holds Cassian’s stare for a lingering moment—she knows she does not have to specify who Ashhal is, since their mother had never hidden it—and then turns her ice-blue eyes to the pale pegasus.
@Ashhal l @Cassian