"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
It wasn’t one of her proudest moments, but Mazikeen wore the bruises and cuts from taking her frustration out on a tree. It had been unyielding, no surprise there, and once she had exhausted herself she could not say whether she felt any better or not - but the exhaustion provided some relief. She wasn’t sure there was a way to feel better - but she was stubborn, if nothing else, and would not go back to the mountain with her tail between her legs and admit defeat. Not even after it felt like she had lost her whole identity.
There had to be a way to learn to appreciate her equine form - and it had not yet dawned on her that maybe she shouldn’t be looking for answers for this particular riddle in a kingdom populated by other shifters.
But this was her home, it’s what she knew, and before she started searching for answers elsewhere she’d see what else - who else - she could talk to here. So she finds her way into the open foothills, where the shadows are a little less oppressive, and inhales the cool spring air in deep, ragged gulps.
Mazikeen calls forth her fire aura, which comes despite her exhaustion. She watches it from the corner of her eye as she stands still, letting the think arch of firelight flicker over her skin. She welcomes the break from the darkness and it helps that it doubles as a beacon, in case there's anyone else around who wants a break from this bizarre night too.
She isn’t sure how long the eclipse had been here before she actually noticed it had been dark for too long. Casimira was a girl that tended to be too much inside of her own mind; overanalyzing every little thing, tying her worries up into knots that sit between the cracks of her ribs. She didn’t think of Badden anymore—not since Savior and the twins. When he did cross her mind it was only by association; her mind following her trail of worries back to the idea he had left because there was something wrong with her, and that it was only a matter of time before Savior discovered all of those same flaws.
While she spent more time in Tephra than she had expected—especially after the dark had set in since she felt better when the four of them were together—today she finds herself in Hyaline again.
Hyaline was where she had first learned to have true control over her shifting. The place where Breach had taught her that she could be a dragon and not instantly turn into some feral beast with no rational thought.
The cold mountains had maintained a hold on her that no other place ever has, and so she returned to here when her mind felt too heavy.
She is stepping quietly along a path that led away from the lake, finding that in the dark the usually mirror-like water was suddenly ominous. There was no light to reflect off the surface, leaving instead the illusion of a gaping, bottomless hole. She didn't like to stare into the dark like that for too long; didn't like the way it felt as though it would drown her from the outside.
A flash of light causes her to pause, her ice-blue eyes swiftly narrowing into a draconic shape. With her dragon vision she was able to pick out the source of the flames—the familiar mare she knew to be a long-time Hyaline resident—and while Casimira was not always the social sort, she found herself drawn to the fire. “I did not know you could control fire,” she comments softly, curiously. Suddenly self-conscious of the fact that she has made it known that she knows who this girl is despite never speaking to her, she adds hastily, “My name is Casimira.”
Mazikeen recognizes the mare that approaches, but no name immediately comes to her - and for a moment she wonders whether that’s because she’s losing her ability to think rationally or because they have not properly met. When an introduction comes, though, she realizes it’s the second. One of the pack members she’s heard about from Breach but had not actually crossed paths with yet. It’s a welcome distraction.
Or, half of a distraction - because even though she’s allowed to stay in the pack while she’s working to complete her quest, she still feels like there is a barrier up between herself and the rest of them.
Still, her interest and the easy smile that colours her voice are not faked - despite her current circumstances, she's glad to finally get the chance to meet another that calls Hyaline home. “Oh, Casimira! You’re the dragon shifter, right? I’m Maze.” Although it should probably occur to Mazikeen that Casimira knew of her already the same way the other white mare was familiar to her, it doesn’t. And regardless, it only feels polite to properly introduce herself.
Her head tilts a little to regard the thin arch of flame. “I can only make an aura out of fire, but it’s the only trick I've got left in me right now.” A thick bitterness seeps into her voice as she says this, and Maze swallows against the way it seems to close up her throat. She wonders whether it's odd that she misses the blissful exhaustion that shifting gives her so much that using her fire aura until it drains all her energy is actually comforting. But, worried that this is an odd way to think (and aware that it's absolutely not helping her with her quest) she opts not to consider this out loud.
Her orange gaze flicks back to Casimira and she attempts a wry smile. “And it’s not a bad one to have right now, with everything.” She'd once used this fire to protect her in battle but she couldn't deny it's efficiency as a flashlight to break up the darkness too.
She is relieved when the other mare seems friendly, but there is still a flush of heat that rises to her face at what she calls her. The dragon shifter. She wasn’t sure how she felt about being known as that here, but it wasn’t inaccurate. As far as she knew she was the only one in Hyaline that could shift into a dragon, but unlike many dragons, Casimira did not find any pride in that. She did not always like what she became in that form; did not like how hot her blood turned, how their faces warped from equine to simply being labeled as prey.
She had held it all together during the alliance, but has not shifted into a dragon since. Too often her nightmares consist of what could have happened had she lost control; how easily she could have snapped her opponent in between her jaws.
“Yes,” she finally answers, having realized she had been quiet for too long. “I don’t shift into it often.” She isn’t sure why she had offered that extra information, since Maze had not asked. She was feeling apprehensive, maybe, since she had grown accustomed to some asking her to shift—as if it was a trick, a flashy thing of show and theatrics. As if it was not an entirely different form from which she could set the hillsides ablaze and crush their bones to dust.
The bitterness in the other’s voice does not go unnoticed, and secretly she is grateful for a reason to direct the attention away from herself. “Your only trick?” A slight frown settles on her face, her blue eyes flickering with a faint concern. “Has the dark taken away your shifting?”
In the warm glow of the fire, Mazikeen watches Casimira - curious when the silence stretches on a little too long and she becomes worried she had said something rude. Having practically shifted every single day of her life since she found out she could (before her quest, anyway) it did not occur to her that there could be shifters out there that didn’t enjoy the power that they had.
She probably would have asked to see the dragon too, under other circumstances. She definitely would have when she was younger, before Hyaline and before the pack.
When the topic doesn’t linger on the topic of dragons, Mazikeen doesn’t fight it though her expression turns sad at the question asked and her eyes move out to the vast shadows beyond them when she replies. “Not the darkness, the fairies. I went up the Mountain looking to be better prepared to protect everyone and the task they gave me…” Was it ever going to get easier to just say it? Or would she know she’s completed her quest when she can talk freely about not being a shifter and not feel the way her heart squeezes in pain as it does now. “Involved taking my shifting so I can learn to appreciate my true form better.” The bitterness returns at the end there, she can't help it.
Aware of the rules around Hyaline regarding those without shifting, Mazikeen is quick to explain a little further - her gaze returning to the other mare, warily searching for any signs of disgust or pity. She doesn't know Casimira, and no one yet has reacted poorly, but she cannot shake the expectation that one day someone's reaction will mirror her fears. “Breach knows and is letting me stay while I work it out but it’s proving… difficult. I know that I’m not useless without my shifting but... it was such a big part of my identity.”
She speaks confidently about the idea that she’s not useless without it, but in reality she’s far less sure.
When she speaks again, the question that comes to her tongue is tentative - and though she hopes that Casimira will answer it, she tries to give the option for refusal. “Do you mind if I ask why you don’t shift often?”
She notices the change in the other mare’s expression. While she feels partially guilty that shifting the topic from herself she had turned it to something Maze didn’t want to talk about, the relief that washed over her was impossible to ignore. Truthfully, she was surprised that Breach had even been willing to allow her to try living here. She had been upfront about her reluctance to shift, but the chance to live close to mother had somehow abated some of that. Ryatah could heal any damage she inflicted, is what she had told herself.
She didn’t like to think about how the things that she could do would be beyond her mother’s ability.
Maze speaks of going to the mountain, and she tilts her head curiously. Casimira has never been to the mountain herself but she has heard stories of it and knew it was the source of Beqanna’s magic. She assumes it is where her dragon shifting had come from, though she isn’t sure why— sn’t sure what she had done to have it bestowed upon her, and sometimes she wonders if it had been meant as a gift, and someone was watching her in disgust as she destroyed it. “It sounds like it’s not meant to be permanent, at least?” She offers with a gentle hopefulness, for while she cannot relate—she is not attached to her shifting at all—she can see that being without it has bothered the other girl.
She is surprised though when the topic again turns back to her. Without meaning to her face seems to tighten, not necessarily going hard, but certainly becoming more guarded. “I can’t always control things in my dragon form,” she tells her, her voice growing quiet. “It feels like my mind goes black. I’ve gotten better, with practice, but I still avoid it, mostly.” She hesitates, debating if she should reveal more of herself. Something about the pressing dark and the orange glow of the firelight makes her feel safe, and so she continues, saying, “I have not shifted since the Alliance. And I chose not to finish because…” she trails off for a moment, biting the inside of her cheek. “I was worried I couldn't handle another round without accidentally...killing someone.”
In response to the comment about how her lack of shifting isn’t meant to be permanent, Mazikeen almost says ‘I hope not’ but that doesn’t feel quite in the spirit of her quest (and she’s not quite sure how omnipresent the fairies of the mountain are). Rather than risk it, she nods with a small smile - appreciating the hopeful note in the other white mare’s voice.
Mazikeen had no reason to suspect Casimira or any of her fellow pack members would be anything but kind, though it still takes her by surprise a little bit. She’d been wrapped up in so many insecurities about whether or not they’d think she was weak for one thing or another that she hadn’t gotten around to just talking to most of them.
She feels a little guilty when she sees that gentle kindness change into a guarded expression with her question (little does she know she and Casimira are just passing guilt back and forth like a hot potato with the topic) - but she’s glad the other mare answers - glad to be given this piece of her story. “I didn’t know that shifting could be like that.” Maybe it was naive of her to think it was wonderful for everyone. The type of shifting Mazikeen had inherited from her mother hadn’t always been smooth, but being stuck as a deer for an afternoon was a far cry away from losing control and having the destructive power of a dragon.
Mazikeen isn’t really sure what she’s about to say will help at all, but she does it with the intent of letting Casimira know that - on some level, even though it’s not the same - she understands. “I think I’ve felt like that when I’ve been angry before. I lose hold of who I am and something else that’s not me takes control…” She exhales softly, eyes on the shadowy slopes of the mountains that surround their home while she thinks of Firion. And even though he had been a complete asshat he hadn’t really deserved what she had given him. Guilt still gnawed at her even if he had been able to walk away afterwards. As soon as the anger had faded she was left feeling hollow and horrible and she wonders if that’s what Casimira feels like after shifting into a dragon, not knowing whether she’ll hurt someone but having to live with it all the same if she did.
She draws herself out of these thoughts and back into the present - voice free of judgement as she continues. “It’s not a fun feeling, I can see why you would avoid it.” Mazikeen falls quiet for another moment before voicing another question - just as carefully as she had the last. They'd only just officially met and here she is, asking Casimira all these personal things. She certainly wouldn't take offense if she was told to mind her own business. “Have you thought about going to the mountain to try to get rid of your shifting?”
That thought alone would have made Mazikeen a little uncomfortable a few months ago - but right now, especially after Casimira's description of what it was like for her, she can't help but wonder.
“I don’t think it’s supposed to be like that,” she answers with a small smile. Casimira has always recognized that she was likely a rarity, even among dragon shifters. Many of them could either entirely control themselves in either form, or they were simply so naturally draconic—already nearly feral, with a raw kind of power that an equine form could hardly harness— that it was almost like they didn’t notice. For her, it was like being overpowered by something that wasn’t even her.
She was envious of other shifters, but she has learned that jealousy will not get her anywhere. All she can hope for is that if any of her children were to inherit dragon shifting is that they take after their father—the idea of Savior ever losing control in his dragon form was unfathomable to her—and not her.
Maze asks her if she had ever considered going to the mountain to ask to have her shifting removed, and while she had halfway been expecting the question, she still never knows how to answer. She knows her answer — she just does not know how to verbalize the tumultuous, tangled thoughts. “I thought about it, once,” she begins, feeling over her words carefully. “But something about asking it to be taken away feels too much like failure.” She shakes her head with a rueful smile. “I already fail at being able to control myself in it. I’ve learned to count being able to not shift into it uncontrollably as a success.”
I was thinking since Maze's quest was considered a success this could be a closer <3
