For a moment there is only this--
The hammer beat of their hooves upon quartz that is making her heart, and her bones, sing. The way their bodys stretch and move, like waves upon the bridge, or like arrows cutting through the air. The sheer thrill of feeling power curled between her tendons like a sleeping lion. The way she knows that changing the ground beneath them is as easy to her magic as breathing is to her lungs.
For a moment there is only the knowing, that this is a drop in the ocean of her power (the contintent of her rage).
And then there is the moment in which she gathers up all her feral power and curls her nose towards her cheset like a swan. She's touching Noctiilucent then, a brush of their shoulders light enough to be nothing more than a kiss of dandelion seed across their sweating skin. “I will always return.” Isra says and the words are falling like a wire between them, a promise sharp, barbed, and eternal.
Her war-drum hooves slow until they are nothing more than an echo of her beating heart which has turned to flame in her chest. The quartz stops growing like a weed the moment they make it to the island. The sand is silent as she moves through it but her magic is still reaching out like a tide towards each grain of earth. Nothing is ever enough for her magic.
Isra cages it and it's almost too easy.
“I came back when Denocote started to burn.” Fable cries overhead because he too has had enough soot and fire to last him a dragon lifetime. Something in Isra's heart, maybe her magic, roars back at him even though her legs are still moving slowly across the shore. “Why were you stuck in Dawn?” And when she asks, oh when she asks, her magic rears up like a cobra and strikes all the sand all their hooves into ore.
Even when she's not running her bones are still singing a hammer-song inside her skin. When she lifts her eyes towards her friend it only feels like there is both war and love twisting around and around like the moon and the sun in the span of her chest.
