Maggy's usually a sound sleeper, at least from the outside she is, though recently she's been a lot more...active in her rest... Constantly, quietly, growling and hissing at something in her dreams and lashing out at it AND the waking world! If she didn't bump Gala awake beforehand, she may have pancaked the poor lamia! I'm just worried about her, and quite frankly the safety of everyone and everything around her when she sleeps. Hopefully, whatever it is, she manages to sort. Or opens up about, but that's unlikely...

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Inside the restless dragon's head was a cacophony of roars, shrieks, and metallic clashes that rang through the air echoing out like bombs. The sounds of a battle... One she knew... One she was currently in. Magyorma's eyes widened as a silver and gold dragon knight dove at her, its spear-like tail glistening with crimson. Recoiling from the immediate shock, she tried to shift into her humanoid form to avoid the attack and swiftly return one. She'd grown used to that form, and much more adept at using it since obtaining it. Yet nothing happened.
The spear-tipped tail tore through the dragoness' thick scaled hide, ripping through flesh and muscle as it gouged through one of her massive arms as the knight flipped. While the knight was but a fraction of the small dragoness' size, only somewhat larger than a human, the damage she had inflicted certainly was severe. Enraged by the surge of pain, Magy flung the other titanic arm at her assailant, the large hand balled into a wrecking-ball of a fist.
The knight gracefully swept backwards, as if almost dancing in the wind, as the fist careened past and into the forest beyond. With a thunderous CRACK-OOM several of the large, dragon-barked trees collapsed, their trunks split and splintered exploding out with a blast of thorny debris. Magy growled as she glared at the missed blow, then noticed the blood covering the large clawed hand. It wasn't hers. And by the smell, it wasn't the knights... But it was...familiar... She knew this. She knows this. She knows-
Magy's eyes sharpened like a hawk's as the dragon's head snapped around to stare at the knight. Her purple eyes met the knights glowing, pastel blue set that stared just as intensely back. Her eyes widened, pupils shrinking to slits as the world seemed to slow around her. She felt her heart skip a beat as a burning fire of rage ignited within her. In the midst of the glowing blue orbs behind the visor of the knight were not pupils. They were symbols. The very symbols that lead to her downfall.

Magy roared out as senses suddenly flooded her mind, her vision distorting and her thoughts fragmenting as if being split between realms; her cells screaming and her nerves set ablaze as her body screeched out in pain. She watched as the world around her, or was it just her, seemed to be glitching and distorting in flashes of blacks whites and colors. She heard a haunting roar resonate from her, though she did nothing to cause it. Suddenly, through her distorted vision, clouds of the blood red qurio surged from the forest to her aid, spiraling towards the knight as she readied another attack. Magy wasn't in control of this. Magy wasn't in control at all.

She seemed to drift away from herself, as if falling upwards, drifting further into the glitching distortions that plagued her senses. This has happened before, too. The glitching. The agony that it brought. She just...doesn't know when... As she drifts back, watching herself begin to rampage against the knight, she saw her own face. It was obscured by glitches, shrouded in distortions and colorful chaos. Her head pounded and throbbed as she tried to see past it, eyes struggling to focus on anything beyond the visual hell before her, but they did. Beneath the colors of the distortions was but one, a sickly crackling green that shone from her eyes and the gem in her forehead.

As she stared at these eyes that were not hers, she watched as they turned and stared back. In a fraction of a second, Magyorma felt such terror that its icy needles pierced down to her very soul.

She shot awake with a gasp, her lungs clutching and grasping for the air that they were desperately needing. How long had...she not been breathing? She felt colder than usual, as if she had been left in the arctic, yet her body was covered in sweat. She had been feeling like this recently... The nightmares, the terrors, the pains... Waking up in cold sweats and feeling of freezing were common among people... When they were... Right, when they are sick...

Perhaps that's it... Perhaps she's just sick... She could ask Oishi for some medicine and everything will magically be better. Yes, alright. That's the plan. In the morning.

Though one thought ate at the back of her mind. Nightmares don't talk. So why, as she woke up, did she hear whispers?

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