11-03-2025, 01:00 PM
Night comes fast these days. With it falls a sweep of sparkling frost — gentle breaths of frozen dew blanketing everything as the moon rises to peer down at the glittering land below. Claudia pads through the shadows, a prowling shadow-eater.
Tybalt moves like a weasel-cat over moss-rimed rocks and curling roots. He hunts as he goes, frogs, bugs, snails, the occasional mouse, or his most prized quarry: a rabbit. He can fly, but the air offers him fewer victories; ravens tease him, hawks attack him, and eagles appraise him like a convenient snack. The ground, or some half-height perch close to it, suits him better.
Claudia’s coin-gold hair, wet and molten even in the dark, makes her a dim lantern in a sea of shadows. Dawn has not yet touched the old forest guarding the river, but the far horizon begins to bruise peach-rose. The first hints of morning bleed upward, drowning the stars. As they fade, so does Claudia’s glow, all but the sharp teeth lining her mouth, forever luminescent against her dark lips.
A burst of light catches her attention. Tybalt notices it too — they both turn as a flaming figure tears downward, striking the trees in a flare of unnatural fire. Tybalt squeaks, a startled peal — “What the hell is that?!” — before darting up Claudia’s shoulder to perch along her withers, peering around her neck like a nervous sentinel.
The phoenix-stallion’s approach is gentle but bold. Claudia gives him space, leveling her mismatched eyes with his as he steps from the treeline. Frost smokes faintly around her hooves; her scales ghost ripple-bright over her bay coat and dark cerulean points as she studies him. The bite of late-autumn morning settles over the world, it is cold, clean, edged like glass. Her golden eye catches the first rose-gold fingers of sunrise; her blue one glimmers like deep water disturbed by moonlight. She holds him in her twin gaze, curious. She smiles; a real smile, rare as warm tide in winter.
“Fireheart, ” she echoes, tasting the name. “Striking entrance. ” A soft nudge of her muzzle sends Tybalt scooting reluctantly down her shoulder. “This is Tybalt, ” she continues. The little blue dragon growls nervously at the stranger. “He bites a little. ” Her eyes linger on him and there’s warmth there, but the dangerous kind, the deliberate kind. “I am Claudia. I would be delighted to enjoy your company. You seem… ” her dark lashes lift, predatory-sweet, “…safe. ”
For a heartbeat, it is a compliment.
For another, a challenge.
“Don’t be shy, Tybalt, ” she murmurs without looking back, still watching the phoenix. “Our new friend won’t harm us. Will you, Fireheart?” ”
C L A U D I A
ivar x wrena
@Fireheart