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Syrena
let the water take me
Two legs? Really? She’s never walked on two legs in her life. And honestly, as the gray mare pushes herself into a standing rear, Syrena laughs. Not at Brisa, just because she really had never imaged herself here. Standing on two legs lashing logs together. How far the great have fallen indeed.
Though in a weird way, it did feel good to laugh. Even if she’s laughing at herself.
Not that she explains this out of place outburst to Brisa. Instead, she manages to get herself on two feet (albeit terribly ungracefully, something she hates – she also hates sweating, not that anyone can tell on her perpetually wet coat). She totters rather terrible toward Brisa, thankfully a bit taller than the crafter and able to reach the places the other mare cannot.
Syrena takes her cues from Brisa, lending a hoof and teeth wherever she’s needed, not pretending she has any actual idea what she’s doing. Brisa keeps talking, asking what else might be good to build for the herd. Honestly, Syrena paid little mind to what the herd even had here, and she has no idea how much has changed since she’d been here a year ago. “Well, what else does the Falls have right now? If the healers get a hut, maybe there are other ranks that want building?”
Though hell, maybe the healers were the only ones that didn’t have a building yet. She wouldn’t actually know. The realization of how alone she’s really been (her own fault, no one else’s) settles in at this thought. How had she expected to regain any of what she’d lost without trying at all? Perhaps this is a good conversation for her, some revelation of how much she’s going to have to do and learn, how much she’s going to have to change.
Maybe it’d be better to go back to wallowing in self-pity. No. Stop it. But instead, she stays there, perched on two legs, trying her damdest not to look like an elephant stopping around. And trying not to break the roof. There’s an honest possibility she might. Poor Brisa. What a terrible potential crafter she’d picked up.
"words"
Though in a weird way, it did feel good to laugh. Even if she’s laughing at herself.
Not that she explains this out of place outburst to Brisa. Instead, she manages to get herself on two feet (albeit terribly ungracefully, something she hates – she also hates sweating, not that anyone can tell on her perpetually wet coat). She totters rather terrible toward Brisa, thankfully a bit taller than the crafter and able to reach the places the other mare cannot.
Syrena takes her cues from Brisa, lending a hoof and teeth wherever she’s needed, not pretending she has any actual idea what she’s doing. Brisa keeps talking, asking what else might be good to build for the herd. Honestly, Syrena paid little mind to what the herd even had here, and she has no idea how much has changed since she’d been here a year ago. “Well, what else does the Falls have right now? If the healers get a hut, maybe there are other ranks that want building?”
Though hell, maybe the healers were the only ones that didn’t have a building yet. She wouldn’t actually know. The realization of how alone she’s really been (her own fault, no one else’s) settles in at this thought. How had she expected to regain any of what she’d lost without trying at all? Perhaps this is a good conversation for her, some revelation of how much she’s going to have to do and learn, how much she’s going to have to change.
Maybe it’d be better to go back to wallowing in self-pity. No. Stop it. But instead, she stays there, perched on two legs, trying her damdest not to look like an elephant stopping around. And trying not to break the roof. There’s an honest possibility she might. Poor Brisa. What a terrible potential crafter she’d picked up.
"words"
darya87 | larfsalot
on deviantart
@Brisa
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Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death
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