Reptilian flaps rose atop her head, ears that was reminiscent of her equine form, but held a definite draconic flair to them now. Two horns bent backwards just behind them, their points dulled, unsharpened. To an astute observer, one would notice the lack of foul breath upon her tongue, for there was no meat rotting within her belly - only a fire brewing within her fire stomach, which might lend a slightly charcoal small occasionally wafted from her. But that particular scent wasn't uncommon for the mare herself, always having Akaith's hot breath around.

As it was, Mirage could relate to poor Lace as he was forced to confront her in this form. Upon this very beach, she too had met with Jörmungandr, the great dragon of the ocean, and stood shivering in her hooves before his mammoth form. He had been larger than she was, even now, with her broad wingspan and long, muscular tail bulking up her mass. Idly she wondered how she would feel had he emerged from his watery depths now, with she in this form. Though she was a dragon, her instincts were still largely equine - her wings were as likely to take her away from danger as to bring her nearer to it.

So, in a way, the creature of glittering golden scales could sympathise with Lace, and she had to admire him for his resolve, even if he had come to the conclusion that by fleeing he would have only encouraged the predator within her to give chase. She might have seen him as suicidal, for though he kept a wary distance, he still stood before a most terrifying being, one capable of ripping him limb for limb. The sinewy muscles were clear and bulging along her lean, athletic form, holding her wings steady as the wing threatened to topple them over. An interesting exercise, she commented dryly to her bonded, who sent colours of amusement in response.

You are like a hatchling, learning her wings for the first time. To this Mirage allowed herself some humble amusement. Indeed I am, I feel like but a hatchling, barely scraping the shell's soft membrane aside as I open my eyes to what the world truly contains. Akaith continued to dance about the waves, but brought her play nearer to where Lace stood, both to offer the stallion some kind of comfort, some reminder of normalcy in this strange affair. Perhaps, in time, it would seem less strange. But then, the opposite was just as likely, perhaps none would ever get used to having a dragon in their midst.

"Perhaps." Mirage's smooth voice replied to the stallion's question, amusement thick in her tones - the mask of her transformation had stolen and replaced the mask of indifference her equine form usually hosted. With practised coordination, the dragon shifted weight, her majestic tiara turning to the right so that the elongated, wispy markings that were usually gold shimmered black against aureate scales along the length of her serpentine. It was the same marking, only reversed in colouration. It was this marking that had been her first clue as to the Moon Goddess' intentions for Mirage, but it had taken so long for the mare to come to this conclusion. To think, the Goddess was speaking the truth plainly that first day she suggested that the little shadowy mare was a dragon.

With the same careful, steady movements the dragon then folded her clawed legs beneath her, lowering her massive form to the sand, kneading it with her surprisingly dextrous foreclaws as she went. Abruptly her wings collapsed to her sides as well, and the dragon appeared much smaller, much less ferocious, than the great looming predator she had been while standing. A smile that could be described as nothing more or less than devious curved her lips, and sparkled behind her eyes, as she observed, silently, the silver grulla, testing his steadfastness when only moments before depression had clouded his entire being.

"The time between our first meeting and now has changed a great many things, has it not, Lace?"