The only reason Estinien is bothering to risk this is because he is - or at least believes himself to be - truly alone. It’s the easiest way to get where he needs to go without leaving a trail he can be tracked by, never mind how much faster and more efficient it is. But were someone to witness it, it would make for a tale that would spread rumors directly to the ears he wishes least to hear any aspect of his current situation.
It makes him anxious to do this, because though it hasn’t happened yet, there’s always the lingering fear that he’ll not be able to return to himself this time, that he’ll be trapped and unable to return to even a semblance of a normal life. But at the same time, not doing it for too long feels as though he’s choking a part of himself, and no matter how he’d wish to deny it as remnants of Nidhogg, it’s far too entwined with him to be considered anything but his own any longer.
And so now that no-one is around to witness it, Estinien’s hand lifts to the lance on his back as the space around his form wavers, draconic aether radiating power for a brief moment before the form of an elezen dragoon drops away, leaving a dragon in his place. The dragon stretches his wings out - a single pair, rather than the multiple wings of Nidhogg, but the form is slender, almost resembling a serpent in shape. There the similarities end, however, for he is a deep blue-black with a lighter blue-grey underbelly, horns that curl up and back rather than down and around his face, and most damning of all, clear grey-blue eyes that despite their slit pupils are identical to those of the former azure dragoon.
He isn’t particularly large as dragons go - perhaps ten to fifteen fulms in length, but his wings are immense in proportion. Folded, they mantled along his back almost like a overlong cape - spread apart, it’s clear this is a dragon meant for flight, for time in the air; for maneuverability and for speed. And if given just a moment to finish stretching his wings out, that’s where he’ll be, and on his way at last.