Syrena

let the water take me

It would make her rather sad to actually hear someone say that she’s not frightening. She’s not, of course, but she was. Not that anyone knew it then, either. A pretty predator, the sirens. Full of false hopes and dreams, promising the world and then taking it away. Oh, she had been terrifying in those last moments of their lives, when they realized for that half second what was happening. It was a beautiful sight.

But what was the point in killing now. She couldn’t feed on their souls anymore. Couldn’t live forever. She could kill and leave a mess behind and accomplish nothing, and Syrena, if nothing else, didn’t kill needlessly.

The other replies with a name and a question. Ah, Syrena, you really as terrible at this. It really doesn’t cross her mind to think ‘Oh, maybe this person is new and I should explain something.’ It doesn’t cross her mind to start with pleasantries. The sheer fact she managed to offer an introduction is pretty amazing, and probably deserves an award.

She’s about to answer and try to be useful (what a novel concept to the one nomadic mare) when another voice cuts through and explains it for her. Well, that works. She’s a little annoyed, truthfully, she could have answered the question asked of her. But mostly, she doesn’t care. It’s one less thing she has to do. She turns her head to find the source of that particular voice, and her eyes come to rest on a pretty little thing.

So unlike Syrena, who’s large and gray and plain (except the scales and the fins and the color changing in the water, but on land, she will always feel plain). This one is dainty and pretty and gold and so very feminine. Not that Syrena isn’t, just in a very different way (and only when she cares to try, which only happens when she can get something from it). This one though is far more obviously dangerous, spines on her back and all. Interesting.

Syrena eyes the mare for what might be a moment too long, though there’s no sign of actual interest on her face. Don’t take it personally though, there never is. “What she said,” Syrena says, trying her best to put something of a laugh into that phrase, though she probably mostly failed. “The Hidden Falls is a herd here, with a King and Queen and various different jobs and ranks within the herd.” She stops there, figuring it’s enough, and waiting to see what Lourdes was interested in learning more about. No point wasting her breath if a herd wasn’t for the ghostly mare.

"words"