FIRE CANNOT KILL A DRAGONHer pale eyes, such a contrast from her dark face, narrowed slightly at the challenge. A race. She had spent much of her youth racing her mother along the dunes from border to border. Many hours had been spent nipping at one another's heels as they danced across the boiling sands. Unbeknownst to the king, he had given her something she could not easily turn away.
A challenge.
She straightens her posture, drawing her head back and lifting her nose. Her nostrils quivered with a snort as a fire came alive behind her gaze. She knows in her head she needs to turn him down but her heart is begging her to run free and wild across the desert sands. "A race then," she says with a smirk, moving beneath the waters toward the edge. As Rhaenys passes the king she flicks a waterlogged tail in his direction, casting a small laugh over her shoulder as she dances further up onto the shore.
Water drips off her coat, and despite her shaking, she cannot free herself of all the water. At least the dunes would dry her swiftly. "On your go, stranger." She waits for him to line up next to her as she digs her hooves into the sand beneath her. On his command she jumps forward as if by wings and takes several long leaping strides to try and take the lead. Her legs, lithe and long, churn beneath her with each stride.
The oasis disappears behind them as they run and she finds herself closing her eyes to enjoy the wind in her face. She cannot imagine a better thing. A better place. She is Salem; it runs in her blood just as she runs across it. Rhaenys finds herself smiling, laughing, and kicking her heels. For a moment her guard is down and she nips playfully at the space between them.
However the border comes into view and the determination shows upon her face again. Despite the effort she puts forth to pass him, Evrain sneaks past her at the last moment. With a gasp, Rhaenys slides to a stop in a spray of sand, coming to rest just before the border. Her ears flatten, finding a home against the sweat streaked silver of her mane and her eyes narrow. She'd lost to her mother on occasion, of course, but this was different. Perhaps she could still weasel out of giving her name, maybe he'd forgotten. "Well it appears you've won, dear king," she looks away pointedly, staring into the hills.
RHAENYS | FILLY | SOOTY SILVER BLACK | ISIKSIZ X NYIMARA | DUNES |
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