The cavern held a chill to it - Orangemoon was upon them, turning ever closer into Frostfall, and they were underground; and yet, sweat darkened her pale, champagne pelt. It added a shine to her coat, a glitter that carried over from the golden scales that glimmered whenever the companions summoned enough breath of flame or frost to illuminate the area. The rhythm their hooves pounded into the earth below was an exercise all of its own, a physical activity that brought up raised heartbeats and heat and warmth, passion and life, it was pleasantly exhausting and wonderfully exhilarating at the same time.

The vines that had tried to seize her fell like so many dead things behind her - she wondered if it was magic of the horned creature, or magic of the caves that made it so; either way, she knew it was magic that had both summoned and destroyed the thorny things. Was it a smirk, a smile that curved the stallions lips in the weak light of the cavern? And if it was, why? What thoughts cascaded through his hellion crown to cause such a curl of lips, such an expression? Was it deviousness, cunning, dark plots or ploys that curved his dark velvet maw? Or was it simple enjoyment of the shared moment, the fire and frost, the dance, the life that sparked between them, that caused such an expression?

She'd never find out for certain, she knew, though she was surprised to see him near her. Lithe and limber, she could have shied from his approach; but Amaris was a dragon, and she did not fear him so much as know to hold a wariness of him and his actions, his dragons. So as he brushed against her, she made to reach out to him - his dark shoulder touched against her own, as her golden maw reached out to brush the thick, powerful curve of his nape. He was warm, as she was (for dragons are never cold), he was life, power, fire, he was her partner in this dance, even if only for the day.

He pulled away from her, and she did not hesitate - the companions were mingled now, spirits with living, singing and trilling, dancing and twirling - she followed his steps, stride for stride, beat for beat, motion for motion. He rose, and so too did she - her wings extended, they reached out to fill the cavern with a golden glow as the flames flickered through them and cast a false dawn upon the caves that had never seen the Sun. What do I call you? he questioned, he demanded of her, and her own draconic lilt laughed musically in reply, before her tongue shaped words that her body pounded out before him, continuing the dance, the tango.

"I am fire, I am passion," she hummed as she stepped lightly to the left, "I am lightning and truth," she continued, breathless with the life that filled her, the passion she twirled into the cavern surrounding them with the gentle beating of her wings and the purposeful pounding of her hooves. "I am life," she uttered softly against the constant thrum of the rushing water nearby. "The question is not what you call me, sir," she said as she turned to hold him in her gaze wholly and completely, face on, emboldened and proud. "But what you call yourself."

Amaris