anyone;

[Cyprin]

An old soul with young eyes, a vintage heart, and a beautiful mind ”You aren’t like the boys,” Nayl murmurs to her daughter as she tousles her forelock. Cyprin merely stares out from their mountainside cave, her eyes roving across the open expanse of Loess. From afar, she has watched father and her brothers take flight, their bodies seamlessly shifting between horse and dragon. ”No,” she murmurs, torn between jealousy and pride. Their blood is of dragon, and yet she has no wings, no fire.   Eyes, mother once said. Cyprin’s eyes administer enough a reminder of the lineage thrumming in her veins.   They dart from the distant cacti to instead regard Nayl in a moment’s silence. Mother doesn’t stand out like them – like the boys – but there is an air about her, a quiet strength. ”I’m like you,” she whispers with a soft grin peeling back her lips. Mother nods, her expression melting in fondness before ushering a nod. ”Yes, now go explore.” It would be easier to seclude the child and tuck her into the cave until adulthood, but she no longer has enemies to fear; her children are free to roam.   Cyprin offers an agreeable nod before turning away and clambering down the mountainside. Figments of her power reach out like tendrils, but they are weak, unpracticed. Unknowingly, she gives life to surrounding pebbles, but they only tumble as though knocked by her own feet. Paying them no mind, Cyprin descends until the sparse grass takes place of gravel and rock. A final glance searches the lip of the cave above her, but then she moves farther away with curious eyes darting back and forth. Her siblings are elsewhere, practicing and flirting with gravity, while she remains grounded and alone. Cyprin lior and nayl

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