The coast was not Eira's typical haunt, but she had always been a curious creature. Driven to desert her family for lack of murderous intent and an overabundance of empathy, she had often struck out on paths that took her far from what she could have called home, to the ends of the known continent and all of the spaces in between. Still, despite her frustrations with her kin, despite her desire to be distanced by earth and tree and mile from those that did not share her views but shared her blood, she always found herself drawn back to the nation of Serendipity, even if she often found herself avoiding the prickly range of mountains that housed the Citadel of her sister's kingdom.
The thought alone brought a frown to the angelic features, the inhuman perfection of symmetry marking the blonde girl as something more than mortal. Of course, she could have been a fae or an elf or an angel - in a country like Serendipity, where magic was normal and respected, who could be sure of one's lineage? And truly, though the threat of dragons always hovered above heads, who would believe that one such creature prowled the streets in the shape of a naive-looking girl, tumbled curls of honey falling to her waist above a deceptively-plain white shift and a face as sweet as a carving?
It was true that Eira was beautiful - but then, so were many immortals. Even the sharpest scrutiny would not reveal a single hint of predatory alertness in the slant of her eyes or the casual movement of fluid, willowy limbs. She was short, but slim, with a shape like a willow wand and the grace of a river flowing from high to low. Still, most elves had that same casual fluidity, and faeries were known to be deceptively gorgeous. The fact that she was pretty and elegant gave no particular significance in a country that harbored those of magical descent; she was hard to pick out as different from any of the immortal (or less so) creatures in the busy marketplace.
The dragon-girl shied away from the crowded boulevard, turning instead down a narrow alley that eventually let out onto a broad street that stretched toward a fenced-in park. The very vibration of earth around her was a soothing balm to the tight-stretched nerves inside of her. Her ears had been sharp, picking up the murmured conversations about rampant dragons, though they hadn't touched these lands for several years. Her mouth twitched down in a hint of a snarl, wishing that she could protect all of her awful, ungrateful family from this speculation with a simple wave of her hand. However, her magic was simply limited to the manipulation of the earth, and it was this which brought comfort to her; as she stepped into the wrought-iron confines of the public park, her feet carried her to the nearest tree. It was a simple matter of physics that led her to collapse at the foot of the tree, but the liquid unfolding of limbs and the soft sigh of relief was anything but scientific. So, too, was the odd appearance of a blanket of brilliantly white flowers that sprouted where her hands hit the earth - but then again, this was always the way Eira reacted. When in danger, find the nearest tree and distract herself.
