Much as Ellisaria dislikes the intimation of weakness, she dislikes being impaled on a mountainside even more. Her human form is simply more subtle, and thus better suited to evading the gronn.
Unfortunately, it is also conveniently sized to be eaten in one gulp by the mirror-faced snake (what) that comes out of literally nowhere.
At least she is alive to be indignant, even if she's no longer in Outland.
Wherever she is, it's cold, windy, and desolate. The sun is high overhead, and doesn't seem to be doing much to warm up the frozen ground.
Also, there's a dragon - smaller than her draconic form, scales a bloody red - nearby, sprawling facing away from Ellisaria, tail-tip lashing a bit, posture hunched. The dragon raises her head and starts sniffing.
Awkward. Shifting at this range would certainly be a provocation. And it's a red.
"Hello," she calls.
Dragon cranes her long neck around, shifting a bit to make this easier. She doesn't seem particularly threatened by the suddenly appearing person, more curious.
"Hello!" she says, tail stilling now that she's distracted. "How did you sneak up on me, and why do you only kind of smell human?"
"I am only kind of human. I was eaten by a snake with a mirror for a face."
The dragon turns around more fully, tilting her head. "I haven't heard of one of those, and the Maiar who can change shape easily mostly aren't on this continent anymore, and I haven't heard of being eaten causing teleportation. Are you part something else? - No, you smell more like you're only shaped like a human than being a human."
"Perhaps this will help illuminate the issue." She glances over her shoulder to blink back for distance, and shifts to her natural form.
Her scales are onyx, glinting in the sun. She stretches her wings, which spread wider than the other dragon is long.
She sits up a bit, eyes focused intently on Ellisaria. "Huh! I haven't met a dragon who could change shapes, before, and you do not feel like a Maia."
"One of those I am not. I am Ellisaria, of Azeroth. Tell me, what world is this?"
She ducks her head.
"A pleasure to meet you Brisingr. Who leads your flight?"
"The pleasure is mine. And no one's succeeded in uniting the dragons in a long while."
Shrug. "I suppose there's some clannish tendencies, especially among the weaker dragons, but I don't think it goes beyond one family very often."
"Not much food, I suppose. Complicates alliances, and most people don't want to risk expanding South."
"Humans, elves, and dwarves, mostly. Technically orcs, but they know to leave dragons alone."
Ellisaria snorts in amusement. "Orcs are as bad as humans when it comes to poking things they shouldn't."
She laughs. "I suppose it's better to say that the stupid ones are very flammable, and they do not often follow up with an army."
She hums. "The other races stick together more. And there's been bad blood between us and them longer than I've been alive - they don't come to these wastelands, but dragons who venture south are usually killed. Though, admittedly, dragons who venture south usually start those fights."
"I'm probably one of three dragons left who can breathe fire. One of the others is a hermit who claimed an island for herself and refuses to talk to anyone else. One of them - Smaug - " (she says the name with some level of hatred) - "kills any dragons who come onto his territory. Armies aren't very scared of ten foot long wyrmlings breathing little wisps of steam, and the last dragon who tried to unite us was killed by Smaug. Some can use the Song even without fire, but most not on a scale that could challenge even a determined militia."
"We ruled more broadly in the days of Ancalagon the Mighty and Glaurung the First, but that was two ages ago, and even those dragons bowed their heads to their god." She seems disgusted by the concept.
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