The demigoddess is in a good mood today - she whistles smartly as toothpick legs carry her through the vast prairie, dotted with thistles and flowers. Snow is beginning to recede, and although she has developed a bit of fondness for it, she wants to feel the sun-warmed grass beneath her hooves and breath air that is not razor-sharp and heavy with cold. In the distance, a bird sings, and the girl mimics his tune ardently; they sing a spring-song, with a simple, neat melody. Vermilion eyes glance toward the sky casually, watching the path of a single cumulus cloud as she advances forward through the meadow. Bountiful spring flowers populate the green grass in blues, yellows and whites; she can smell the fragrant perfume of lilacs and the sweetness of baby grass. With a content sigh, she bounds towards every flower in sight, plucking each one gently, until she has amassed a sizable bouquet. Suddenly, she feels joy rushing through her small body like fire and blood, and the girl races ahead, leaving a whirlwind of down feathers, winter fur and flower petals in her wake.

She runs through patches of clover and daffodils - through the shadows of great oak trees and the thorns of briars. She is free, and her heels come up with exuberance, wings spreading to steady her gyrating body. A gentle spring zephyr caresses her bright, pale form, rustling the flowers she carries and the fire-flowers in her hair.

The filly continues furiously on until she balks at the sight of a reclining white figure. Shaken, but curious, Israfel turns towards it, and leans her delicate face towards it, noticing the ample similarities between them. The unicorn - a mare, is not dead, for her sides rise and fall steadily, and warmth radiates off her clean grey coat and a pink muzzle, occupied with flowers, bows forward, red eyes bright with wonder. Who is this sleeping (she has decided, in a fit of youthful fantasy) princess, and why is she alone? She has half the mind to rouse this mare, but is too intrigued by the peace which rests on her face - so the demigoddess will wait steadfastly, like the brave warriors of Isilme her mother speaks of, sometimes.

Silently, the gold-blessed girl drifts away from the sleeping beauty and underneath the shade of a tall red oak, careful to not rouse her charge. The flowers begin to wilt in her mouth, and she places them tenderly on relatively flat rock she finds nearby, covered with a pelt of lichen.

Israfel Azardokht, daughter of the sun - and now, defender of sleeping princesses, waits bravely beneath the canopy of an oak for her princess to wake.


"."

It is not before long the protectress of sleeping princesses has company - a delicate white dragon, stalking her as if the filly was but a meek mouse. Israfel plays the fool, watching the princess intently whilst occasionally peeking at her little pale predator, a wry smile on pink lips. The little dragon does not notice the princess, however, and utters a cry of surprise when they inevitably collide. She giggles lightly, like a breath of fire from a dragon's mouth. The white began to explore the mare's felled body, blending into her slumbering form seamlessly. Israfel wonders if they are two halves of a whole, but quickly discounts it, for she vaguely recalls the selfsame dragon making rounds in the sky, like Leonardo's kite, at her birth. Her bonded is a silver stallion, she recalls vaguely, with bright golden eyes.

Suddenly, the ground begins to shake and buck beneath little cloven hooves; a lumbering dark figure breaks the peace, causing her heart to jump frantically in her chest. The girl stands, swaying mildly before him, watching him approach with narrowed red eyes. He slides to a stop, haunches sliding beneath his gigantic body and forehand heaving upward, threatening to squish poor Israfel like a bug.
Staggering backwards into the arms of the tall spring grass, and indignant to such insolence, she begins summons the magic endowed to her; the markings sprawling across her wings begin to shift and glow with fire, tracing the girl's slender jawline with ominous orange light. Wreaths of flame begin to spiral upward from the base of her small single antler, licking the air with vehemence; she wills it toward the black draft, hoping it will hurt him. Burn, she wants to shout, but two other shadows charge before her. They do not try to injure her, and she obeys them when one brother ushers her frantically away from the Dauntless' path.

She stands breathless, quivering with fear and anger. Mother is going to hear about this - and the stupid idiotic beast will pay. Vermilion eyes glance toward the sleeping princess, who no longer sleeps, her body bathed in pristine spring light. The demigoddess bounds toward her, tears glistening within the big orange panes of her eyes. "He tried to hurt me!" she cries to the mare, pausing when she can feel benevolent Ophelia's warmth. The filly cranes her head upward to look the mare in the eyes, noticing (with a start) that the princess' did not match.
Israfel, still distraught and unsteady on her spindly legs, seeks protection in the elegant princess. "I tried saving you, but he tried to hurt me," Israfel repeats, sent a flutter at the mare's question. "No," she responds, almost wistful, between tears. How nice it would be to claim a dragon as her own, maybe she will ask mother for one.

With a flick of her dainty head, Israfel turns her delicate head to observe the brothers and the ugly beast who had attacked her. In the frenzy for her life, she had failed to notice how familiar the two dark stallions were - she realizes that they had attended her birth, as well. Both are tall and handsome, with opposing white blazes and strange maroon socks which seem (to her) like fire. Secretly, the demigoddess approves; anyone blessed by her father's fingers must be warriors for a higher cause.
The girl glances to the shire; he is marked by white socks, but other than that, his skin is the night. Bitterly, vindictively, she hopes her flames have kissed him - she hopes he felt pain when they became enamored by him. He will surely want another passionate moment, and she will let them return the favor gladly.