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07-29-2016, 03:21 PM
Syrena
let the water take me
It takes all of her self-control not to walk away. This is why she was nomadic. This is why the herd life thing never seemed to work out for her. But what choice did she have, anymore? Her powers were gone, she was no longer immortal. This was her life. Tiny and small and insignificant. Stuck talking to spoiled children and groveling at their damn feet because they just so happened to be the path forward.
Was she making even remotely the right decision?
Probably not. But she was making it anyway. There were outcast group, certainly, but what could she offer them and more importantly, what could they offer her? Not as much as the Falls could.
So she bites the remarks that comes to her mouth. Something snotty about wanting to be called a mountain instead of what (Syrena rather grudgingly admits) is a rather pretty name. “Apologies, Mountain that Knows” she says, her voice deadpan like always, making it rather hard to tell if she means it. She doesn’t, but at least most horses are left wondering at the lack of inflection in her voice.
She listens, letting the mare talk. Isopia goes on to talk about crafting as well. Her feelings on that are rather clear. Not that Syrena will blindly just take this stranger’s word. But in the same vein, she does kind of agree. She lived here once, and couldn’t even tell you what this herd had. Which might say more about her than it does about the structures that have been crafted, but still. The other thing is that, she suspects, her and Isopia aren’t so very different. That is pretty much the root of all the issues in this conversation. They both probably want to bite each other’s heads off.
They may not be able to work together. Syrena might very well be a crafter because she’s got no other damn choice. Or maybe, they’ll work together great. Stay the hell out of each other’s way unless absolutely necessary to do otherwise. There was no in between.
“To be fair, I said want, not need. I doubt you need help, but that doesn’t mean you might not want it. Now, if you don’t want help, I’ll go waste my time making useless buildings. I know they want help. But if you have things you’d want me to do, I’d be interested.” She’s basically a willing slave, sitting in the bottom of the ranks with no one to listen to but a Mountain of a mare.
Gods, this is going to be horrible. But it’s something, and that’s better than the nothing she’s been wallowing in for far too long.
"words"
Was she making even remotely the right decision?
Probably not. But she was making it anyway. There were outcast group, certainly, but what could she offer them and more importantly, what could they offer her? Not as much as the Falls could.
So she bites the remarks that comes to her mouth. Something snotty about wanting to be called a mountain instead of what (Syrena rather grudgingly admits) is a rather pretty name. “Apologies, Mountain that Knows” she says, her voice deadpan like always, making it rather hard to tell if she means it. She doesn’t, but at least most horses are left wondering at the lack of inflection in her voice.
She listens, letting the mare talk. Isopia goes on to talk about crafting as well. Her feelings on that are rather clear. Not that Syrena will blindly just take this stranger’s word. But in the same vein, she does kind of agree. She lived here once, and couldn’t even tell you what this herd had. Which might say more about her than it does about the structures that have been crafted, but still. The other thing is that, she suspects, her and Isopia aren’t so very different. That is pretty much the root of all the issues in this conversation. They both probably want to bite each other’s heads off.
They may not be able to work together. Syrena might very well be a crafter because she’s got no other damn choice. Or maybe, they’ll work together great. Stay the hell out of each other’s way unless absolutely necessary to do otherwise. There was no in between.
“To be fair, I said want, not need. I doubt you need help, but that doesn’t mean you might not want it. Now, if you don’t want help, I’ll go waste my time making useless buildings. I know they want help. But if you have things you’d want me to do, I’d be interested.” She’s basically a willing slave, sitting in the bottom of the ranks with no one to listen to but a Mountain of a mare.
Gods, this is going to be horrible. But it’s something, and that’s better than the nothing she’s been wallowing in for far too long.
"words"
darya87 | larfsalot
on deviantart
@Isopia it makes me laugh
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Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death
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