You are caught.

Seen.

Then, a remarkable thing happens: nothing. Gradually, the anticipation of action melts from you. You watch the girl; she watches you. It's a furtive dance, strange and silent, but it's nice. Your dark eyes measure the jewel-blue of hers where she stares safely out of the water, her image distorting around the weight of your breath. Because the reflection proves kinder than the truth, you continue watching her in the water as she speaks to you. Her voice is a chime, higher pitched than Mama's but somehow not as delicate as Vesper sounds. You still think of Vesper for an instant, unaware that at this moment you stand opposite another twin, the both of you without your second halves. Because you don't know any of that, though, all you can do is stare at the water and turn over what she said. Too hot. Indeed; you feel the water's heat breathing up into your face even from here, and with Tallsun breathing down your back, you recoil.

A frown creases the delicate curves of your face when she turns her question on you. So absorbed are you in the conundrum facing you down, you miss the clear weight of her eyes as they follow your wings, studying you like a museum specimen. It might unnerve you if you weren't so otherwise occupied, but you're busy staring at your own reflection now, deciding for the fourth or fifth time so far water is treacherous and the you living within doubly so. Your tiny ears twist back; you challenge him with a scowl. And because you don't take anything for granted, you plunge your muzzle into the hot springs without a second thought.

Oh.

Wait — yeah — it is pretty hot! Snorting a fine plume of water droplets, you wheel back, narrowly avoiding an ugly fall by cutting your retreat short and staring in absolute disgust at the water, unable to decide if it's worse or better than the sea, which is fun and interesting but so bitter. Then, ears akimbo, you remember the girl's question. You decide to ignore it. Shaking your head, you demand, in the voice of a young prince and not the utterly random hybrid foal Ki'irha dragged up north months ago, "Why's it hot!" Nice work on the first words, I guess. In all of this, you never once look directly at the girl; you feel better that way. But you clearly address her, and your tone isn't unfriendly so much as it is annoyed. Were you bigger, stronger, braver, you would fight that you in the water and you'd definitely win. But you're small still, Virga.

Your mouth twists into something like a pout when, finally, you tilt your head vaguely in the girl's direction. She has a horn, like you. No wings.

Nobody has wings.

"Where are your wings?" This you ask more kindly, your own obviously stubby appendages now spreading a bit for her benefit. You don't know how they ought to look, of course, so at the moment they seem just fine to you. What's not fine is how no one in the Basin except your sister looks anything like you. It makes you feel kind of.... well, shitty. High time you demanded an explanation.