I stared up at her with my heart in my throat, unable to speak or move, and yet not afraid, not exactly. It wasn't fear that held me still or took my breath away but the feeling I knew her, that those diamond eyes and that pale gray skin faintly tinted with scales, the dulcet tones of her voice overlaid with the sound of music were as familiar as my own mother's face.
But she was alien to me, surely I'd never seen her like before...? And yet, I had, hadn't I? In the dark and brooding anger of my father. Clearly, though, she was nothing like him in spirit, not even a little bit. Here stood my father's echo but who I could only describe as the polar opposite to the man who gave me life. Hard not to be wary of her even as I longed to find out more about who she was.
How odd, this feeling of
