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Vysenya was enjoying exploring, flying wild, figuring out what these long dark limbs of hers could do. Swimming had grown more pleasant, and with a few days practice she found that running wasn't so bad either. Climbing was next to impossible now upon all but the easiest of surfaces, but in truth, the new appendage was the worst thing she had to deal with now. Just... existing, it was simpler now. She thought there were likely many of her kin who worried as she had of dark magic and banishments or, generally, not being able to go home. But what was it she wanted to go back for? Nearly everyone she could've asked for was right here in this new land already, and though she would've wished for some others to come along, or her Father to not have been dead... it was peaceful. She did not pass sniggering men in the halls; laughing whether she donned her armor or a gown, thinking both ridiculous on her. No doubt, plenty of the lords and nobles and gentlemen of court would've preferred the princess to run around naked, they just would not admit it - nobody spoke truth in the keep of the crown, nobody but she, and oh how tired she grew of being cast down for it.
Even her own brother, her twin, he who she had shared the womb with and spent her whole life trying to be like -- trying to help!-- had the audacity to remind her of her womanhood on those days when she grew too comfortable. He allowed her at his side, sure, and he let her whisper, but Vysenya had come to realize that it all went in one ear and out the other long ago.

The dawn was fiery; the sun not yet even over the horizon fully, and yet the sky ablaze with the breath of dragons.

She missed early morning flights upon Vaedia, though they had been replaced with these runs together. She wanted to be able to soar high and drag her finger tips through the sparse layer of clouds, vibrant crimson against the flaxen sky! She thought she felt the Jewel-Claws need for it, too, to twirl and fall and glide upon the thermals. It was a price she might've paid alone to avoid court and rules and tradition, but loathed to impart upon her poor companion. She deserved more than... this. Though, she didn't seem as sad as all that. As long as she had wings, even if the other birds were... better translated, she thought Vaedia would be alright.
They both would.

It was a scent that drew her short of the jog, panting lightly. Unfamiliar. She didn't know many things by smell, of course, but that's why she was confident it wasn't one of her siblings. But Vysenya only caught her breath before forging on at a more gentle lope, nostrils flaring as she flexed new skills. Not only would she find the source of the smell, finding it would make good practice!

It turned out to be a she.

Another wolf.

She stood there, glorious beneath the golden light of the rising sun, looking every part the woman Vysenya had always dreamed she could be. She had amber eyes with little chips of silver at their centers, surrounding pupils slitted like a ...

like a dragons!

Fangs peeked from beneath lip, too -- through, in one spot, surrounded by massive scarring. The entire red beast, swirled in paling hues until she reached snowy white. Scars littered her. There was no doubt in Vys, this was a warrior. She had survived battles, and the sharpness in her honey-gold gaze let Vys know she would go on not just surviving, but thriving. The Solarys felt her throat burn with jealousy as readily as her heart swelled with admiration, and she didn't know how long she had been staring until Vaedia plopped down to land hard upon her brow with a breeze-soft chirp. Vys blinked.

The woman's unscarred side had twisted into a smirk, chin lifted.

Apologies, she recited, awkwardly, and kicked herself again - but when she opened her mouth again to repeat in the common tongue, she noted the sudden brightness of those honey warm eyes, and out spilled...

High Valyrian.

'Worry not,' her voice came smooth, in rolling tones that sounded like music over the hills, and Vysenya wondered if she were setting eyes on some sort of goddess. For certain, a lady; perhaps, even, a queen. Someone highborn and well-raised, and more than that, a woman who did not suffer the word no. A woman at peace with herself and her place in the world, the very way in which she held herself screaming confidence, competence, strength. Independence.

For perhaps the first time in her life, Vys was stunned speechless as she just stood and stared. After a few long seconds: Who are you, she breathed, awed.

She was pretty amazing, wasn't she? Tembyria knew it deep in her own heart, but didn't often expect for others to so openly claim as much, by tongue or by the way of staring that this creature was doing. That wasn't to say she didn't like it, straightening her back and letting her chest swell, shoulders rolling. Some small part of her insisted that her facial scars, the unseemly gap showing through her lip, did not deserve to be seen. It was not the mark of any great battle or funny story, just the stamp of a coward.
Perhaps her head canted away the right ride, the scarred half, the embarrassment, like she could hide it away beneath perspective and impressions and a half-turn of her head. Any of her other scars were for the ogling and story-times; this one was not.
It was fiercely satisfying joy that spread outwards from a stony chest, watching this creature with their gaping jaws and shining eyes. Tem thought she could've watched the strangers admiring reaction all day long, but they had a layer of interest about them, too.

For one, the Draconya natal tongue falling from their own lips. Tem's amusement gave way to full-on interest, attention intensifying. The beast looked as if Tembyria might've had to start the conversation herself if she didn't want to sit here in silence, even if the reaction of her mere presence was heartily reassuring. Then a tiny hummingbird, bright in shades of purple and blue and green, plopped right down onto their head. Did this stranger realize how insecure Tem had been? No, they couldn't, but all the less it felt good to know even those she had never seen before in her life could still recognize all Tembyria had and still would accomplish.

Worry not, she soothed at the apology - no harm done. The dark, grey-purple creature looked like they might've melted right there in that moment, just at the sound of her voice!

'Who are you,' they asked, girlish, amazed, and Tem just smiled again.

Princess Tembyria Nymeria Draconya, the Fire-Fang, wife of Crown Prince Balerion and Princess Rhaenys -- also of House Draconya. Yes, she was married to her siblings, sue her. It was not so strange in their own bloodline, by way of love like they had to keeping the lines pure in purposeful betrothal, but that didn't mean there weren't sometimes furtive side-eyes earned for it from the other noble houses.
Yet, there wasn't disgust, only surprise and the hard edge of jealousy that made Tem grin even wider. In love with someone they shouldn't be -- or who didn't return her affections? Wanted a crown they couldn't have? Tem wasn't entirely sure, but she could see the longing in the strangers gaze, the desperate need not to own, but to be.

She said nothing more, just stood there imperious between the bloody trees, tail curled over her back, head high, grinning.