A figurine stood, as still and unmoving as the stone below it, as dark as the shadows cast by the sunlight striking the ridge, an outline of a mare, refined and sculpted, ancient and yet young, with breeding that spoke of eons of evolution, and magic that changed the very way in which blood gushed through her veins. The DragonHeart watched the ocean today, for it told a multitude of stories, that of life, of death, of darkness and light. The reflection of the sun and moon could be glimpsed upon its surface today, though the seas moved at the rate of the wind, if one allowed their gaze to swallow the entire horizon at once, it seemed to smooth over, become one large, reflective mirror. Perhaps if she stared at it long enough, the mysteries of the world would unfold before her, the answers to questions she has yet to think of would be revealed, everything that was the past, the present, the future, would become apparent. However, stare as she might with all the intensity of the golden orbs that were windows to her soul, nothing but the steady, repetitive, gushing thrum of the ocean's beat hinted to her of the little wisdoms of life, of continuity, of consistency and the strength to always return, to never give in even if adversity stands before you. Adversity in the ocean's case was the sand that it beat against, but still it beat, over and over again, until it managed to reclaim bits of land for itself, tucking the granules of sand down to its depths. Step by step, the ocean would eventually win.

A fishy, metallic twang seemed to pervade the senses of the mare, and with a snort she snapped her attention from the horizon, and wondered at where it came from. It was salty, rich, bloody, and strong, so strong it was as if she could feel the living, writhing creature slide down her throat in a delightful way of filling her stomach. As an equine, the thought made her nerves curdle uncomfortably, her skin prickle with unease, her entire bodice shiver with barely contained disgust. What are you doing? she asked the cause for these sensations, silently, through the bond that linked their souls together. Almost an instant later she shut her eyes, and was transported to the view of her bonded, who tugged happily, enthusiastically, pulling her attention away from the horizon, out of her own bodice even. A speedy scene flooded her senses, one of golden wings skimming the surface of the sea, talons and teeth dipping through the surface every now and then, grasping upon the slimy, wet, salty creatures that were swallowed still alive, thrashing and rolling down the long throat of the little queen. The sheer exhilaration of the little queen brought a smile to the DragonHeart's façade, and thoughts of discomfort were forgotten as from somewhere within her, she felt a shifting. Pulling her vision back to her own head, the mare began to walk, away from the edge, towards the treeline, carving out a clear path where she would be able to later run across. There was a bounce in her step, a certain measure of glee - she had wanted to try this for some time, now was as good an excuse as any.

From a distance away, she heard a trill, a song, a colourful jubilation of joy, and felt its glee invade the bond, felt the energy only increase her swaying step. Laughter, gentle and light, bubbled from her maw, as vague images of her mate standing as still and steady as a cormorant over a still pond flooded her mind, further brought on by the fact that her beloved bonded was not hesitating to test his resolve to hold his position as she rather abruptly landed upon his back, holding onto that same spike she always did, chittering away happily at the familiarity of his broad expanse of a back. Above them both, a little shadow positioned herself within the forest, facing the sheer drop that was the edge of her home, allowing herself a distance of at least one hundred metres before she would inevitably fall to the rocky depths below. But her bodice shimmered, and not with the magic that brought on an illusion; no, what she was doing was no illusion. The magic of Darkness worked real changes into her bodice, altering the very way she was built. But a dragon was not designed for running, and run she must in order to take the plunge over the edge. With an eager paw at the earth, the little shadow mare surged forward, breaths snorting harshly through her nostrils as she focussed upon the oncoming drop, and the magic that would ensure she lived as she dove off its peak. The pain that would normally distract her was felt, but it was ignored, controlled, governed into submission so that she could continue on this reckless, dangerous, crazy path.

Darkness seemed to whirl around her, until suddenly, the tattoo upon her neck glowed brightly, and seemed to burn away the charred, dark flesh of equine skin and fur, wings suddenly burst from her shoulders, as her nape elongated and curved, and a tail went sweeping out from behind her. Still she pushed herself on, maintaining the legs of an equine pushing her forward until the very moment that she reached the edge, and pushed herself off it. Akaith tilted her crown towards the area of the cliff that ran up beside them, viewing the scene of her bonded leaping from the sheer drop with little concern. You are such a hatchling, was all that the little queen said to her bonded, as with wings not yet unfurled, the now-shimmering, golden bodice of a great dragon plummeted to the ground. With a small huff, Akaith observed the way her bonded expertly opened her wings at just the right moment, to level her flight so that her wingtips dipped into the seas upon their downstroke, and her tail almost got swallowed by waves that seemed to chase her form as they surged upwards after crashing into the rocks that lined the edge of their territory. This was a land crafted for dragons, at least now, it had become such a land. Over the ocean she flew now, in a southerly direction, her great muscular form gliding easily over the great expanse of deep and mysterious blue. With a deep yet feminine song, she greeted both her mated and bonded, before tucking her wings to her side and diving below the water. Her bodice was shaped perfectly both for flight through the air and the depths of the sea, and she demonstrated that now as she held her titanic breath and flew for almost a minute without creating a ripple on the surface.

With great theatrics and many cascades of silver droplets spraying away from her, she soon surged upwards beating heavily to gain altitude again. Once a thermal rising off the steamy sand filled her leathery wings, she tilted her path towards that of her mate and bonded again, smiling a draconic, toothy smile around a large whiting. As her wings flapped up sand and salty water several strides away from where her bronze steed stood, she landed with grace and style, digging a trench in the pale granules with her clawed feet and thick, sinewy tail. Allowing herself a coy glance at her mate, she threw the whiting straight up, giving a small growl as Akaith mocked her by feinting to steal it, opening her deadly jaws to swallow it whole. With a click of her eyelids, she then settled herself in the sand that was beside the rocky pool Vikram had utilised as his fishing spot. The sand was like a coarse exfoliation for her scales, it felt good, and soon she found herself stretching out so that the sun's rays above could also warm her back. Lazily she looked at her mate, lifting a brow and allowing her gaze to become suggestive, bordering on seductive. Affection and love were dominant, running rampart within her, overflowing through the intensity of her gaze. Nothing needed to be said, words were never required between two souls who were so clearly, so painfully obviously, meant to be together.

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A shine had entered the golden, glistening hide of the dragon that rolled in the sands, a luminous, otherworldly glow that seemed to come from somewhere deep within. It was as if the blood than ran hot beneath her scales had begun glowing of its own accord, rushing faster and faster through her veins despite the cessation of exercise. A thick, heady smell permeated from her, a heavy musk, a scent laden with pheromones that would warn all dragons in the land just what was about to occur.

Akaith knew the smell, all too well, though normally, she identified it within herself. With a subtle chirp the little queen made herself scarce, knowing all too well the savage tendencies of a queen getting ready to rise for mating, she herself had slaughtered any females that would get in her way during her flight day. The little gold was grateful that her bondmate seemed so enraptured by the attentions of her true mate, that she neglected to get jealous, or savage towards herself - Akaith was a vain little thing, but even she was wise enough to know that a fight with her bonded would end in blood, pain, death.

Where exactly she flew was unimportant - the critical happenings at this moment was what the dragon in the sand was doing. A strange purring, a deep, vibrating hum, emanated from her chest as the bronze loomed near, his wing bowing over her, his shadow doing little to dampen the glow of her scales. Instead thousands of refractions of light reflected against the thin membrane of his wing, creating a dazzling pattern of colourful stars against a translucent, bronze canvas. With every subtle move she made, the stars above her shifted, the distance between her golden hide and his bulky bronze closing, inch by inch.

Then a sudden movement, a hunger, a craving for something she couldn't describe. The dragon shook her head from side to side, as if trying to dislodge something from her nose. A smoky snort, and suddenly her eyes snapped to the gaze of her lover. Behind them gleamed something foreign, something wild and untamed, a crimson promise of blood.

A snarl curled the lips of the dragon then, for Mirage was lost, forgotten in the body of the golden queen who would destroy all in her path, given the chance.

No.. it was a command, a will, a force that tugged upon the very soul of the beast. It came from an equally golden soul, one that directed her wild senses to a goal that would allow her to not only expel this strange energy, but to harness it so that something magnificent, and powerful could result. There was an internal argument at first, as the greater gold tried to overpower the lesser, but then her senses were flooded again, the will to hunt was instilled in her, the slitted nostrils becoming particularly sensitive to the stench of blood running through the bodies of mammals, the scaled ears tilting towards the sand dunes that camouflaged many a beast in its sparse grasses and shrubs.

Wings burst upwards from her sides, clattering against the bronze's outstretched one if he was not swift enough in retracting his own. Tail lashed violently from side to side, digging a deep trench in the creamy sand beneath her, as the powerfully huge haunches of the dragon bunched and coiled, before springing her into the air with simple efficiency. A deep, rumbling roar began from her chest, tumbling up through her maw as the DragonHeart declared her intentions across the beach. Bystanders, predators and prey alike, stood on edge, as the beast flew first high, then stretched her bodice lengthways along the shoreline, scanning the beach.

The hunger that drove her was not from an empty stomach, but rather, a fierce desire to prepare her bodice for an ordeal that would not be gentle, nor kind to her body. She needed a special kind of fuel, not that of meat and flesh, but blood, the hot, crimson liquid that was the lifeforce of all living creatures. She could smell it, in her lover, though his scent was masculine, and dragonly enough that she did not identify the equine side of him as viable, edible. What she sought now was a large, land roaming beast, one that could give her something to chase, to crush, to drink the lifeforce out of.

There, she felt the mind of her bonded brush against her own again, felt a surge of energy direct her vision to the herd of deer that skirted the edges of the beached territory, and with ease she tilted her wings towards them. They knew she was coming, they ran, but it mattered little. A young buck, a stag just approaching his prime, danced his way around his females, but he was not the only male present in this flock. To steal away the only protector of a herd would have left a sour taste in the mind of Mirage (if Mirage had been truly present anyway), but the fact that the herd was large meant that this stag, though strong and fit, was not the dominant one.

With a resounding crash, a tangle of wings, teeth, sand and shrubbery, the stag was dead. The dragon's claws left deep gashes down his sides, the blood driving her hunger to something bordering out of control, chaotic, and with a triumphant call, she made to eat the flesh within.

NO. The voice was like a brick wall, a force field preventing her from diving her muzzle into the depths of the deer's belly and gorging herself upon the hot flesh she had earned. Blood, only the blood, came the command, that willful force again causing a snarl to curl her lips, as she instead bit down upon the jugular groove of the buck's nape and drank deeply.

It was fortunate that the queen, magnificent and huge though she was, was not the size of the traditional dragons Vikram's mother was, for it would have taken several more kills for the desired affect to be reached; as more of the blood trickled down her elongated serpentine, her body seemed to shift again, into a more brilliant, deep, crimson hinted gold. It was like she was her own Sun, shining ferociously bright upon the beach of the Endless Blue.

Then, she was finished, and with little care, she discarded the carcass of the deer, with a great shove. Her nostrils flared, and now they sought out a different scent, one that would inform her of whether there were others nearby who might interfere with this unlikely turn of events, who might challenge her right to rise this day, who might satisfy the desire churning violently about within her breast. A call was made, a challenge, to the one male who she knew would be the only one able to capture her in this state, and a warning to any who might seek to ruin her.

She was airborne again, wings pounding against the sea breeze, a golden dart flying skywards, rising to meet the golden orb that hung precariously upon its throne, savage and wild, beautiful and ripe.

The DragonHeart was ready.

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Flight, what a wondrous thing. The wingbeats that propelled her forth rippled through her entire body, every muscle that lined the torpedo-shaped vessel flexed and stretched in a harmonic synchrony, allowing the motion of flight to exist, permitting the queen to initiate this heated chase. The thrumming of air rushing past her draconic ears was almost deafening, but even then they could not miss the deep, resonating call of a bronze claiming his rights to the company of his golden queen. Blood seemed to rush faster through her veins as the implications of it settled into her subconscious mind - her conscious mind, that is, her equine nature, was seemingly tucked away, absent, a passenger in this wild ride. A heat spread through her, as wildly her serpentine nape turned her chiselled crown to view the beast that followed her, all the while her wings continued pushing her up, higher, and higher still.

As the Sun came closer so too did the heat rise all around her. It was not unpleasant - she was a dragon after all - but she felt it rise in her throat, the stirrings of her fire belly longing to make itself known. There was little choice in the matter for her - as Vikram well knew, the art of breathing fire was one that required practise, and though the WeyrLeader had practised with her queenly companion, right now she was wildly out of control of herself, completely and wholly separated. The fire that surged from within her now was hot, a pale orange rimmed with whites and blues, curling itself into a fireball, streaming itself out dozens of feet in front of her maw - washing over her bodice as she flew through it, burning the air behind her, around her. It was fortunate Vikram was mostly a fireproof hybrid, she would later think, otherwise she may have just inadvertently fried her mate, which would not have done any good at all in these lusty times.

A pull tugged upon her then, threatening to subdue her, to control her, to redirect her haphazard flight towards the Sun and turn it back towards the Earth below. She growled, both vocally and mentally, rearing her defences and locking the irritating voice away. Wingbeats sounded closer to her, as in her distraction the bronze that gave chase rolled on closer - with a sharp glance and a curled lip she tried to push herself on ahead of him again.

But adrenaline did not last forever, even for a dragon. If she was conscious now, she would realise that they flew higher than they ever had before, taller than most clouds, nearing the point where the air began growing too thin, and the temperature too low - of course, she hardly noticed that, what with containing a furnace in her belly and all. He circled her, much like a predator would eye off his prey, and she glowed before him, dipping and swirling, dancing around him, naturally more agile in the air but admittedly a bit more subdued in her motions. There was more to their dance more, more suggestive caresses, more crooning sounds of affection rather than aggression. It was lust, but it was driven by love, and upon that love, came the consciousness of the equine soul once more. Singing a dragonsong, she motioned to rub the length of her bodice alongside his, before pointing inevitably down.

Down, down, down she flew. Towards the ground, a bullet shot from the heavens to land upon the sandy beaches below. Her form was arrow shaped, wings tucked so close they were barely discernible along her back, nape and tail held straight and true, shifting only to steer her fall in the appropriate direction. Down, down, through all the layers of wind and changing temperatures, never deviating, aiming only for a spot of sand, near which lay a dead deer.

Much she had done earlier, when leaping off the cliff, the dragon waited until she was mere metres from the earth's crust before opening her sail-like wings, grunting at the effort it took to realign her bodice parallel to the earth, and soar low and fast. This time when she called upon her magic, it was in reverse. The concentration it took to transform gave her a headache, it made her senses foggy, but even as she flew, she felt herself change, felt the bones and muscles realign - felt the reassuring embrace of her beloved Akaith guiding her through it, so that she might survive this feat. With four hooves dangling at the base of a glowing golden bodice, she galloped along the sand, her outline blurry, awash with shadows as at last, she completed the transformation, and was once again a dark equine mare with a golden dragon tattoo upon a sandy haven. Tail was held high in the air as she ran, her steps light and gay despite her fatigue, her eyes searching for the beast she knew would follow her.

To the shadows, to the shadows, came the urging, a singsong voice within her cranium, a voice she knew would likely resonate within Vikram's own. And so she led her prize, her beloved mate and cherished partner in life, to the northern edge of the Endless Blue, towards the comforts of home but not quite all the way there, so share in the sacrament of courtship, the epitome of lust realised, the warm embrace of total and complete love and faith in another soul. Never before had the little mare felt this, allowed this, for so long she had waited for him - and now, the time was here.

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