yael

What does one do with a sleeping dragon, indeed! Feeding would be lovely, but who knows what the effect of meat might have on poor Yael’s stomach once she shifts back to her normal form. Poke at your own risk, though she is sure to have enough control of her faculties to ensure she doesn’t accidentally char some poor, inquisitively brave soul. In truth, she is a rather small dragon, if one were to consider the great beasts of legend. Oh, her wings were quite as large as they were before, bathed in the color of moonlight instead of the golden rays of the sun. The talons that tip the wings of her bones were black, though they are folded against her ribs and thus, are hard to distinguish. It’s odd that those are the little that remain, rather than her eye color, or even her signature gilded, glinting fur. No one could possibly mistake her then!

Ah, but magic is a fickle thing. Where once she could have picked up foals and dangled them high above a burning forest, she would be hard pressed to do so now (just ask Weaver - theirs is a history that is once again, bound for a head-on collision). And so, she may have wickedly sharp teeth and scales and claws that can rip open a horse’s belly, but she is still Yael-sized, and thus could potentially be over-powered, if they were to mind the various large, webbed spines and horns that sprouted from her brow, her serpentine neck and down her backbone.

Luckily for her, it is no warrior that crosses the dozing reptile’s path, but a Doctor. Even with the looming threat, he thinks of others second, and subconsciously, Yael finds that fascination. The unicorn’s voice slowly rouses her from the bone-deep exhaustion that has invaded every cell of her body. Deep, crystal-blue eyes open slowly, her second lids slow to rise and identify whomever stands before her. Having only seen the third Moon Doctor from afar, it takes a moment to recall his name, but when she does, a slight draconic smile flashes across her unfamiliar features. Even in her stupor, she retains her humor.

”Ssssacre? Eetssss me, Yael. I’m sssssorry… “ She tries to put her thoughts into words, but a usually accented tongue is only compounded by the unfamiliar, elongated shape of her mouth (not to mention the unusually large teeth - imagine your own tongue, trying to flounder while surrounded by a whole half-circle of buckteeth!). Though her wound isn’t serious per se, her general state is a possible cause for concern. Again, Yael tries to shake it off and speak normally. “Jusssst a fight. Sssss’ok.”

And what would they think when they find out she’d been attacked - for a second time?