.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
Nymeria snorted at herself whilst watching Aquila's bony lids shutter over her aquamarine irises (no, not pure aquamarine; there was a ring of earthen brown as well); then she looked back towards the sea, which today sought union with the sky. It was not a welcoming ocean (would that matter anyways?) When she turned her gaze back to Aquila, her fins were fanned free of her neck, and her head was cocked curiously.
Nymeria's head tilted the opposite way; she blinked, once, twice, more owlish than flirtatious. Not many other horses liked to frame their heads that way. It was strange to have her own movements reflected at her—unnerving, just like Kid's skull-marking.
I am. The seahorse's voice was deeper than she was expecting, and her teeth had an extra edge to them that again belied an otherworldliness to the mare. Maybe she's not a beautiful freak—maybe she's a god. Did gods take on unusual guises? Or was this the goddess of the sea, little heard of and little known? If she was a god, then she could be anything. Why a cold, wet seahorse?
(It's unlikely that my luck is such that I find a god.)
For a moment she was silent and contrite, considering Aquila's words carefully. Then she bared her teeth in an expression walking the line between smile and smirk, and said, "let's find a tidal pool. Something we can stand in. If we can't find anything... then I'll show you in the ocean."
@Aquila
Yes I lied, don't think about you all the time
All my switchblade words ain't aim to cut your sweet delusions
