Syrena

let the water take me

She noticed the other mare. Sort of. She noticed in the way you notice it’s raining. There’s the sound of life over there, just as when it rains there’s water coming from the sky. It just sort of is. It doesn’t stop her, and she doesn’t pay much mind to it either. Truthfully, she likes the rain. Which makes sense, given that she likes all water. She likes others a whole lot less. So she largely ignores what’s going on, though Thea doesn’t.

The black and yellow snake stops trying to splash her bonded, and slithers out of the water. She’s not great on land in her snake form, though she’s capable enough for a time. It’s only Thea’s movements that draw Syrena’s eyes away from the crashing waves, because she really doesn’t care what’s happening over there. But she does care what trouble Thea is getting herself into now.

The form that comes into view is familiar though. They’d met once, and Syrena isn’t real worried that any harm will come to her companion. Her gaze drifts back toward the sea, though half an eye stays on Thea. The yellow-bellied snake catches sight of another companion and does her wiggle of a happy dance, before deciding it would be way more fun to look like her companion. So she shifts to match him, though her eyes remain purple as they always do, regardless of what form she takes. Thea was always trying to make new friends, unlike Syrena.

“Yes,” she says simply, trying to recall the other mare’s name and not her title. Titles were common enough knowledge in Helovia, and if she could call herself the Sea Soul, she certainly would. But she remembers the reaction the other mare had at that particular name, so she hunts for the real one in her memory. “Sikeax, was it?” That may or may not be it, but it sounds right, so she goes with it.

And then the mare is asking if she’s alright. Which is almost laughable. It would be a laughable question if Syrena was the type of laugh, but that’s never been her thing. “As well as I can be, I suppose. Which isn’t much. But there’s nothing to be done about that.” She says, not really the sharing type either, though she’s trying. Encouragement pulses through her bond from Thea, as if urging her to talk, trying to tell her it’s okay. It’s surprising Thea has turned her attention away from Hobgoblin long enough to pay Syrena any mind, actually.

“Life feels wrong, without the Falls.” Is all she’s willing to admit to. She can’t say she’s a siren with no powers. Can’t say that she longs to return to the sea, to belong there once again, as she has never belonged anywhere else. Not even the Falls. But it had been something, and it had helped. And now she didn’t even have that.

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