Syrena

let the water take me

She has no idea what brings her back here, again and again. She hates conversation and generally sucks at pleasantries. She hasn’t even picked a rank in the Falls, though she’s supposed to. Yet here she is, recruiting, like she’s got any business being here. But the Falls feels quiet, and she wants to help. Not selflessly, of course. She wants to help because it benefits her, in the long run. It takes her one step closer to becoming something again. Not just a wandering, lost, worthless siren without any of her old powers. But still, there had to be other ways to go about that. Yet here she is anyway, wandering through the Threshold in the heat of summer. Way too far away from the sea. 
 
But her thoughts are dragged away by hair. She finds hair first. How could she miss all that hair, trailing along the ground without a horse in sight. Okay fine, there was a horse in sight, but still too far away for how far the hair trails out. She’s found Rapunzel, come down from her tower (or tree, as the case may be), apparently. Syrena though is no knight in shining armor to save the girl. Not, that Syrena actually thinks the girl needs any saving at all. Maybe she does, maybe she doesn’t. They’ve never even met so it’s not like Syrena has a clue or, for that matter, cares.
 
She finds the rest of the horse soon enough. A beautiful, dainty little thing unlike Syrena. Perhaps the seal-gray mare is beautiful in some way (many seem to think so, except Syrena), but she’s undoubtedly not dainty. In truth, she towers over the mare. Actually, both mares, because she’s not the first to this party. Hell, she’s arguably late to this party (fashionably late, right?).
 
There’s already some conversation going on when Syrena slips out of the trees and finds the two mares not far off. Something about where she is and languages and whatever. The last question is the only one she knows the answer to, and at this point, she’s already standing there so she might as well join the conversation. Even though she feels like a bull in a china shop around these two. Not that she lets it show (nothing shows, her face is almost entirely passive except for a small smile, the best she can manage to be friendly). The one mare, at least, is slightly broader like Syrena. It makes her feel slightly better.
 
“Helovia, generally. Specifically, you’re in the Threshold.” She remembers the mare with the spikes down her neck coming in and answering this exact same question the last time Syrena was in the Threshold. Go figure. What goes around comes around or something. “I’m Syrena, from the Hidden Falls. One of the herds here.” 


"words"