Syrena

let the water take me

The other is so obviously different from her, and yet, similar enough that they both stare for a moment too long, wondering just exactly what piece of the sea they belong to. For that much, they have in common, and for them, it is the only thing that matters. “Syrena,” she offers, almost never thinking to give her name unless it’s solicited. Not because she cares, but rather because she simply doesn’t think of it. Manners don’t matter to her much.

The next question from the mare is an interesting one. Because there is the obvious answer, and there is the answer that matters. Usually, Syrena would simply say, The Hidden Falls, because that is the answer others are expecting. A place that exists in this land. Somewhere to lay her head at night and all that jazz.

But does the seahorse want that answer? Because Syrena wants to know that others feel like her. She wants to know that others are like her, cast into the world in which they don’t truly belong. But before she has time to answer, to offer information that she rarely freely gives, the sound of footsteps in the water pulls her attention away.

Again, a familiar pang of jealous finds her. This mare is also beautiful, and also of the sea, though in a way different from either Aquila or herself. She looks more horse, but like she’s just crawled out of the water and been stained by it. Her body a deep blue with trails of water coursing down her body. Seaweed and seashells make their home in her mane and tail. And she is beautiful. Beautiful in a way Syrena will never be when she stands outside the water. She cannot take the magic and the colors with her on dry land.

“Syrena,” she offers, not adding a pleasure to meet you or any other such pleasantry. Though for once, it is a pleasure to meet someone. She actually wants to remember their names. Actually wants to be here. It is a strange thing, for her to want conversation. For her to want much of anything, other than the things she has lost.

“The Hidden Falls, now,” she adds after a pause, turning back to Aquila, not doing the best job filling Tiamat in on the question. Though if the mare overheard the name, she probably overheard the question. “But once, from everywhere the water touched.” Once, she was everything. Now, she is only this.

“And you?” she asks, turning her gaze to both of them. Wanting to know more about the creatures so like her.

"words"