Syrena

let the water take me

She does not spend much time in the meadow. It’s too far from the sea for her to care about this place. But it is on the way from one place to the next more often than it isn’t. So she passes through it often enough, sticking as close to the river for as long as she can, and otherwise hating this place. Particularly in Tallsun, when the weather has decided to be extra hot with a side of miserable. Fires dot the landscape in the meadow, just as they do in the Falls, and seriously why do I live here? keeps running through her head like a mantra as she walks.

She could just go live at the beach. Ignore everything and everyone and spend the rest of her short, mortal life at the ocean’s edge. She could join one of those outcast groups she runs into so often in the Threshold and tell them they can find her at the beach, if they need something. The idea keeps coming to her, though she still hasn’t figured out just what they could offer her. And, at least when the Falls isn’t on fire, it’s actually quite lovely. But it’s also rather dead, and she’s not necessarily the type of mare who wants to work-really-hard-and-make-something-great-again. Granted, she actually does visit the Threshold. Sometimes. But she’s terrible at it, so she’s not actually sure why she bothers.

She’s lost in her rather grumpy thoughts when the sound of laugher cuts into them. Laughter does not belong in her silent pity party. She knows Helovia well enough by now to guess that whatever lies at the end of that laughter is something she wants nothing to do with. But of course, that means it’s also likely something worth dealing with, because she wants whatever tiny shreds of magic that Helovia will give her. So, against her better judgment and against her own wishes, she forces her feet in the direction of the laughter.

Pixies. Fairies. Whatever they want to be called. That’s what they remind her of, anyway, the little balls of light that come into view. It’s a very different day and a very different atmosphere than the last strange creature that she found, but still, somehow the general concept of fairies plagues her through all these little adventures. “Hell,” she mutters to herself, keeping quiet because even she knows it doesn’t do to piss off magical creatures. Even balls of light. They could probably kill her in a literal flash. They are also coating what tiny bit of water is left in the river in some strange, magical filth, and she wants to yell at them to leave the poor river alone. But again, pissing magical creatures off…

She’s not the first here, and certainly not the last. There’s a stallion made of…wait, seriously? Candy? Candy. Okay, whatever. She settles in to watch the flying blobs of light, keeping her distance from the candy stallion, and if she can help it, anyone else who might show up. It’s already hot, she’s probably going to get blasted by a tiny ball of light. She doesn’t need to rub elbows with strangers too.

"words"