Syrena

let the water take me

Syrena might be the only one in this herd that wouldn’t have a damn clue that Isopia could turn into a raven. Though she probably should know. After all, she called this place home long enough, but she wasn’t even entirely sure that Isopia had been here then (probably had been, Syrena just didn’t pay any attention to these things). Back then, she’d tried her had at being a Slueth, but really, that was never going to work out. She won’t touch anyone. She’s hardly about to knock another horse out and steal things from them, or steal them. So instead, she did nothing, if she’s being really honest.

That time just shouldn’t count. She’d come here still thinking she was siren, and this was the place where all that was ripped away from her (well, when she discovered it, anyway). Sometimes she wonders why she’s back, but then again, she’s got nowhere better to go.

So here she is, wandering the Hidden Falls with no plan today either. At least she had an idea of what she might want to do. Crafting pretty much sucked, but it kept her busy and her mind occupied, and so for that, she didn’t hate it. And at least she could see the result, could be damn well certain all the sweat and sore muscle from building a freaking roof paid off. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to commit. Not that she’s ever committed to anything. Hell, she’s never even lived in one place all that long.

The golden dragon catches her eye before the horse beside it. Not that she really could have missed the horse either, with all her chains and the cape and everything in between. She watches for a moment, waiting for that familiar pang of jealousy to pass. She wanted to be something special and amazing again. Not gray gray gray. Not only awe inspiring when she sat in the pools, the warm water turning her pink and purple.

She wanted everything she lost. All the things she would never have. And it was nearly impossible to bring herself to find new things to want.

Deciding that being anti-social isn’t going to get her anywhere in this life, she turns her course and makes her way over to the other mare, nickering slightly in greeting because she’s pretty sure that’s polite. “Hello,” she offers, her customary deadpan greeting. Her voice is lovely though (ah, remnants of her true self), even without much emotion. “Syrena.” Cause names are polite too, right? Probably. She still remembers the rather pointed scolding from the King of the Edge. Not that she cared, he hardly earned her name, but still. She’s trying.

"words"

ooo :: oh, that's perfect! she will bring it up once she decides she knows how to hold a real conversation....