There are a few amazing things about this mare. One, that she looks at Syrena rather calmly, as if a half-fish/seal mare had not just been straight up rude (granted, Syrena was not the one trespassing, but still). And two, then she just keeps on signing. Quieter, but still, singing. And probably more like singing now than just yelling. But whatever, at any decibel, it’s annoying. And three, because Syrena’s decided there’s a three, is that this mare has managed to find this place without having a clue where she is. Which, she supposes, is possible. But still.

It takes so much effort not to just tell the girl to get out and be done with it. So, so much. She probably deserves a medal. But then the mare is stepping forward, faster than Syrena is ready for, and plants a kiss. No. Oh, hell freaking no. Syrena whirls backward, farther away from the mare than before, and putting plenty of space between then so there are no more sneak kisses. Or touches of any kind. That is not okay. That is so many levels of not okay.

She takes a moment, and a few deep breaths, so she doesn’t decide to just murder the mare (that would actually require touching though, so she’s not going to do that anyway), before answering. “This,” she says through slightly gritted teeth, her usually deadpan voice laced with some annoyance now, “Is the Hidden Falls, and there is a herd that lives here. And you are trespassing.”

But oh no, of course the crazy singing, no-sense-of-personal-space mare wants to stay. She bites back a sigh. Be nice, Syrena. Nice gets you places. “You won’t find shelter from mosquito’s here, but you will find a home. I can’t offer it to you, but I can help you find someone who can.” Well, maybe. She hadn’t seen Brisa or their supposed King or Isopia lately, and she didn’t know who else there even was around here to accept the girl. Not that Syrena would be terribly disappointed if the mare gave up and left. But ugh, Syrena was trying, so she nods into the kingdom a bit and steps out of the water. Might as well set off and try to find someone. “I’ll show you around while we hunt for someone. I’m Syrena,” she adds, trying to remember her manners. Oh, Gods help her. She’s not cut out for this.



les words "chat chat"

Syrena

let the water take me