There are only certain sounds that she finds comforting. Above all others, she loves the sound of the ocean. The constant lapping of the waves against the shore, the constant crashing of the waves. This, to her, is the only real comfort. It is the song of her sisters, it is the song she once used to sing. The one she one day would like to sing again. When she cannot hear the ocean, the sounds of waterfalls crashing off their mountains, the sounds of gurgling rivers or bubbling streams will bring her some sense of peace. But it is only the sound of the ocean that brings her true comfort.

She carries that sound with her now. A gift from the Earth Turtle, or whatever he was called. The strand of seashells hangs from her mane near the water drop charm that stains her otherwise gray mane with cool colors. The shells emit the soft sound of the ocean, and when she simply needs to feel like herself, she can flick her ear back and listen. It is not the same as standing in the surf, but it is the next best thing.

This sound though, the way her name comes out in a gush from Bathsheba’s lips, is almost as wonderful as the sea. It catches her off guard, the way Sheba’s voice sounds in that moment. The way, really, Sheba’s voice makes Syrena feel. There’s a pang in her heart, like it skips a beat to find the girl unharmed. But she doesn’t know what to make of that feeling, and she’s still trying to figure it out when the girl comes crashing into her.

She nearly stumbles backward and away as fast as possible. Nearly. It is her immediate thought, and she’s got a hoof in the air before she can stop herself. Now her name on the girl’s lips is almost desperate, and it stills the seal-gray mare. Her skin crawls where they touch, but she cannot bring herself to step away. It seems like the completely wrong thing to do in this moment, no matter how miserable any contact makes her.

But she stays. For Sheba. For the weird pang in her heart that doesn’t feel empty but full. Full? Is that really the case? It’s been long since she’s felt anything but the loss of her powers, but the bars that keep her locked in Helovia. She can’t even trust her own sense of emotions. But it’s clear something is wrong. Or was wrong. Or…

“What happened?” she asks, and though there’s little emotion in her voice, it is perhaps softer than normal. Perhaps tinged with a bit of kindness that is not normally there.