Perhaps she could be good at spinning pretty versions of the truth, or spinning pretty false tales. Certainly, she should be good at these things. That was once what she did. Paint a picture of the world you wanted to live in with the sound of her voice. Painted something so beautiful, so perfect, it was worth dying for. Not that you knew you were about to die, of course. But even if you had known, you would have gone anyway. Such were the tales should could spin. But without the magic behind those stories, what was the point? Where did lies and cleaned-up truths get her? Nowhere. In the end, Sher and Kaida would find the truth for themselves (or whoever she happened to be talking to). So why waste time with lies in the first instance?

The crack of the trees above them, Khairi still in the trees, draws Syrena’s eyes upward briefly. Though not so much out of unease, but out of habit, because she finds herself often scanning the limbs of the trees here for Isopia or Hubris. Hubris was easier to find than their Czarina in those branches. But of course, he was bright and gold, whereas she was black and hidden in her raven form. But they are not there, and it is just the girl’s vulture. He is a creepy bugger though, but she’s grown rather used to that around here.

Sher doesn’t seem entirely sure where to go. Syrena doesn’t blame her, she didn’t know where to go when she first arrived here either. Now, when nothing motivates her, she stays hidden in the storyteller’s pool, her own little sanctuary of a sort. Technically a scared place, but she uses it as a home as well. Her questions come though, and Syrena, in no rush to move anyway, is fine to stay and answer them. “The Falls is ruled by Isopia, the Mountain that Knows, and Ranjiri the Goldenshade.” Not that she’s seen much of the second Czarina, but the girl was new to it, and apparently worthy enough to be appointed by the Earth God. So she figures she must be off doing something that Syrena simply doesn’t see, and truthfully, doesn’t much care to know.

The questions keep coming, and Syrena waits now until Sher finished, Kaida offering an answer to whether or not everyone in Helovia has magic. “Many do not. The Threshold strips everyone of their magic when they first arrive here.” The truth of that particular fact is still bitter in her mouth. Though her voice remains emotionless as she speaks of it, a brief flicker of sorrow and crashing waves flickers across her features momentarily. “There do seem to be ways to get magic though, even for those without it originally.” Often strange things, sometimes dangerous things, sometimes completely harmless things. Helovia was impossible to predict.

“As you see, I turn colors, and I don’t control that either.” she says, ocean eyes glancing at Kaida. “It’s always an ice breaker at parties,” she adds, and the deadpan sound of her voice here is almost comical. Syrena, at parties. Clearly she was the life of them and all. “As for jobs,” she continues, her attention shifting mostly to Sher, though glancing now and again to Kiada in case the girl has things to add. “We have warriors, healers, crafters, sleuths, and storyteller’s. I’m the Storyteller here, so my job is to talk to with the Earth God and relay his messages to our Czarnia’s, and to collect the stories of the Hidden Falls and Helovia. Each herd has a Storyteller, though they go by different titles, and each herd has a different patron God.” She falls silent, knowing there are many follow up questions to that. What Gods do each herd follow? What does that mean exactly? Somedays she didn’t entirely know. But at the moment, it feels as though she’s dumped enough information on Sher, and so she doesn’t add more.

“I can show you my favorite waterfall?” she offers, figuring she can lead if they would prefer.


les words "chat chat"

Syrena

let the water take me