Cerulean Cape ❆ To all things housed in her silence,

Disoriented was she, who's body was claimed by the sea overnight like the drifting weeds. This place was not home -- it was not the harsh yet familiar, biting cold of the tundra. That much could be felt like the way the sun wrapped around her like a comforting hug -- her skin needed the warmth, yet all the dragoness needed was her way back. It was a mystery, then, to how she'd even been washed up upon these unknown shores.

As she sat their, bitter with the shiver in her bones and taste of bile stuck on her tounge, the ringing in her ears wailed louder in hearing a whine. This, followed by a masculine voice among the air. Without thought -- without so much as a question -- the winter dragon whipped around with a display of white ivory knives underneath a crinkled muzzle. A warning, for one, toward the stranger who lurked close, and a sheild for she, who knew better than to trust sweetened words in her pitiful state.

"Who are you?" She rasped harshly, hackles spiked over her scruff and a tail wrapping around her stomach defensively.