It is a part of her,
That which glisten upon her sculpted pate.
It is within her,
That which flows through her veins.
It is upon her,
And it glistens like sweat upon her brow.

Each scale upon her back is molded as if by a craftsmen unseen, adorning like jewels but alive with the very blood that flows through them. They do not bend or break, nor were they placed there by some unforeseen force. From birth, that which came from the bond between the dragon and the glistening golden male she coveted, converged upon the slender filly to combine upon her flesh and within her very soul. Well muscled and tall in stature, her body is lean and fit, though filled with sinew worked by the sands she so thrives upon.

They sparkle in the sunlight,
Those jewels socketed within,
The clearest blue so flawlessly carved,
Set within that glistening hide of gold.

As though found deep within the earth and simply placed with her eyes, the diamonds are not quite what they seem. They appear the coldest blue and are that which match her fathers own bejeweled sockets as if he simply handed her his own. Somehow, yet cold and solid within her skull, they convey the myriad of emotions that swim wantonly through her crafty skull.

Like obsidian carved with meticulous skill,
Flowing freely in ways that they should not,
Those onyx tendrils flow freely as if,
They were not made from the solid form of rock.

As though some master carved them from rocks beneath the earth and imbued them with magic, some masterpiece he was creating, the tendrils of pure onyx flow forth thick and glistening in the daylight as if each tendril lives and thrives like an entity of its own.

That which she covets,
That which she holds dears,
Treasures which she calls her own,
Are safe, so none should fear.

Deep within her spirit,
Somewhere past her soul,
Lingers close and dearest,
The wrath of a Dragons row.

She is that which is unavoidable, her path clear and finite. Ever churning is her mind, though certain one can be of what truly moves her. If it is her own, or to be considered as such, it is defended by the might and stubborn dedication of both her own will and the might of the dragon curled beneath the veil of magic. True affection is as elusive as the oasis in an endless desert and neither she nor the companion within can fathom such depth of emotion, despite her own claim to some she might cross.

For lo beneath her treading heals,
But far above her gold pate,
There is no place that she should feel,
She cannot wander past its gate.

Boundaries, though defined by others, are perhaps mis-defined in her own mind. She sees no barrier, real or illusionary, that can or will stop her where she wishes to trod. Her mind is defunct with the certainty that such barriers were meant to be crossed and simply casual in the ascertaining that she herself was meant to cross them.

No words shall be mixed,
None shall lay misconstrued,
For what falls from her tongue,
Are both blunt as they are shrewd.

Her mind is often spoken with the resolve of someone who has spent long pondering the right words to unleash upon the world. There is no need for subtlety. She doesn't hold propriety or stock in meandering around what one means. Her eagerness to have her position clearly understood is defined by her lack of riddling her way around her own words. Often times her ire or her affectionate words are shocking in their clarity, as is the sarcasm that lilts within any insulting comments that mind find their way upon a listeners ears.

Freedom is not taken,
It is not simply a right,
She will not be ruled by any,
For she is as elusive as the light.

For it cannot be capture,
Or held within ones grip,
It comes only when it means to,
A leaves when it feels fit.

She is free of spirit. Nothing makes her feel bound but her own dedications to the guardian she finds herself sealing her fate with. Her body was not meant for little rooms or confined spaces. Where she wishes to wander she will. Her allegiance cannot be bought with pretty words, fine spirits or the promise of riches. What need she of such when she is gold alive? What need has she of pretty words when spoken from faithless lips? No drink could stir the dragon where it does not wish to be.

Alive is truth and wonder,
It breathes deep within.
There is no room for deceit,
There is no age where the faithless triumph.

She is immovable as the mountain,
Honest and true to the beliefs all her own,
Unburdened with false stories in whose part she must remember,
She is frozen upon the summit of right when the world would move her toward the wrong.

In the deepest regions of her heart, she is guided not simply by her faith to her deity, but also by her own beliefs of right and wrong. She has a desire to protect and unburden the world from strife and chaos, despite her own self being the creator of such at times. She believes that good will triumph over evil, even if it must tread the line between a time or two. Perhaps a certain naivety leads her to that, but what is flawless in a world of free will?

Under the desert moon,
The barest hint of sound,
Broke through the sandy dunes,
As two souls merge profound.
For bunch scant time had passed,
When it seemed fate had decried,
That two should come at last,
From the ones who merged that night.

Born unto the dragoness and the golden stallion were two fillies. Both were made of pure gold like their father, but only one took upon her skin the mark of the dragoness. From the beginning Illo was independent and unusual. She grew fierce from a young age, defiant of the constraints of her mother or the protective eye of her twin. The desert was what kept the filly busy. They say that though she be but little,
She is fierce.
In her blue diamond eyes lay no riddle,
For they pierce.

It was not long before the golden filly grew tall and lean and proud. It was not long before she no longer returned to her mothers side before nightfall. In fact, her daily wanderings quickly became nights that trailed into days on end. Her days were spent roaming the endless desert, familiarizing herself with it's every minutest detail. The blazing hot sun was the only witness to the roaming.

Before she knew it she could not recall the last time she had seen her mother or her twin. She had wandered so far from home that the terrain itself began to seem unfamiliar. That was no pang of regret for the loss of connection, for in her mind their only bond had been through blood. Instead, the young filly grew curious of the new terrain and the new creatures she came across. She discovered the stirring within to know society and understand the drive of what drew others to cluster together in tight knit groups.

Edoni was the first acquaintance of her knew home. He lead a desert band known as Vigils. The Marwari stallion clearly considered himself a catch, for the mares did simper like fools beneath his iron gaze. Illo found herself quite unaffected. His personality seemed dull and he never did make the wisest decisions. His raiding of other lands became sloppy and foolish. Eventually Illo had learned that the more daring his attacks, the more attention the stallion curated from the mares of his band. Dissatisfied, Illo watched as he dared to snatch mares even from the clutches of Kings and Queens with holdings far beyond his small imagination. Eventually his time drew near.

Little did Edoni know that Illo had been no simpering fool or mindless foot soldier like the others who followed him. She held little desire to be held in high esteem by the stallion. Instead, while he partied and planned his raids Illo learned. She learned first of the barest of stirrings of the beast that lay within. At first the frailest stirrings of the dragon that lay trapped beyond the veil of magic she had not yet known she possessed, drew her attention.

Flashes of gold blinked across her minds eye. Golden scales and golden claws and the very same diamond eyes that her father had bestowed her, formed the image of the dragon that stirred within. She learned what connected her to the dragon and how call it forth for mere instances of time. When the dragons magic did not consume her time, she trained among the soldiers. Illo had never been one for courtly socializing. More practical things drover the young mare.

So it was that Edoni had chosen to lead a raid against the King of Ulkra. By far one of the most lethal opponents one could come across in their time, he was a formidable stallion who held within himself the power to mold time to his will. Edoni, either unknowing or uncaring of the fact, pressed into his lands without hesitation. A runner was dispatched to demand Edoni present himself to the King or leave his territory for good. It was then that Illo was both surprised and not by the gall of the reprobate. Thinking to soften the King's ire without conceding to either demand, Edoni decided to offer the King a gift.

"Tell King Rhune that I come baring only a gift for him. Perhaps one that he might even wish to repay me for?" The smile he flashed piqued Illo's suspicion. She knew he brought with them no gift. "A mare of pure gold with gemstones for eye. I should doubt your King has ever laid eyes on such a figure." He gestured to Illo and deep within her stomach the faint stirring of the dragons wrath bloomed forth. She held her ire inside, determined not to give herself away. With no argument she went with the runner as though she herself were a biddable young lady who wished only to please those higher than she.

Consumed with his own rage and not all caring for the gift bestowed, Rhune dispatched his troops to slay Edoni. Edoni, having caught wind, ran back to his desert abode and for some time only raided smaller herds on the outskirts. Illo, an awkward guest within Rhunes courts, soon became a friend to the King. She aided him with insight on affairs with the desert clans and theirs workings. It wasn't long before her desire to return to the desert curled across her mind. Illo could never be happy where she could not run among the sands or bask in the heat of the sun for hours long.

Called upon, one summer day, Illo presented herself to Rhune, thinking him in need of some advice to aid with his desert neighbors. Instead, however, he was not alone. With him were Cinicka, the queen of Kastille and Baron, the sovereign lord of the kingdom of Riking to the East. The 3 had come to the conclusion that it was time the desert be tamed. They intended to do so using Illo. If, they proclaimed, she could rid the desert of the rebel clans and organize the others, they would support her in staking claim to the newest Kingdom to spring forth in their lands.

It took no time at all for Illo to find herself back within her beloved terrain. The sand beneath her hooves was certainly a memory she had never been able to exactly match to the true sensation. Her first thought was to drive Edoni out. However, something told to wait. If she began expelling other rebel clans, it would not be long before he presented himself to her without her ever having to seek out his newest hiding place.

With the help of Rhunes men, Illo began the length process of tracking down and civilizing the clans of the desert. Before long, as she'd surmised, Edoni presented himself. He wished to know of the mysterious mare who would claim the desert for her own and drive out all who would not fall in line behind her. Though, when he entered her small and still forming city, he did not meet the same golden mare he had attempted to gift away. Instead, where she should have sat upon her throne, a golden beast quite larger than the mare herself sat. Their discussion, though riddled with his own protestations of her position, was short. He'd heard the rumors of the dragon who did not breathe fire. What then could it do to make it as formidable as those dragons of the West, who breathed great flames of red and orange when they transformed?

The dragon spewed forth a great billow of sand from between it's jaws, that quickly filled the room around them much as the sandstorms filled the desert on particularly nasty days. Laughter rang forth from the stallion and the dragon, incensed, blew forth another billow. This one, however, seemed far more precise and did not cloud the room as before. Instead, however, the sand funneled through the nooks and crannies between Edoni's eyes, lips and through his nostrils and ears. For too long this fool had run amuck across the desert and had insulted Illo in the deepest sense, for she was not property to be gifted to any. Not even a King.

It was then that the Kingdom of Basillica came to be. In part to honor the golden stallion that mostly remained a mystery even unto his own children. She ruled hectically. She ruled peacefully. She ruled until the day she awoke to find she no longer had a kingdom to rule, for she was no longer in Basillica anymore.