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12-28-2016, 11:50 AM
Syrena
let the water take me
There’s definitely some conversation going on that she’s not privy to. The snake and the hairy horse stare at each other for a rather long time, and she wonders if there are words across that bond or mostly just feelings. She’s not unfamiliar with companions, having been in Helovia for more years that she cares to count, but having never had one or asked specific questions, she doesn’t know what method of communication they tend to use. She’s always assumed both, but it’s not like she’d have a clue.
“I consider myself lucky then,” she says, possibly actually meaning it. There’s a hint of sincerity laced into that pretty, emotionless voice. But it never hurts to have friends in low places – literally. It doesn’t hurt to have friends in general, probably. But she wouldn’t know, because she has never had friends. That’s the thing about being a predator – you don’t need friends. But she’s not a predator now, and if she’s going to make it in this place that steal magic and doles out only tiny little bits of it, she probably needs to figure out how to make and keep friends. She’s not very friendly, as it turns out.
The silence grows between them, the water of the flats too still and quiet to break the silence. After what is definitely too long, but Syrena doesn’t care, she says. “Syrena,” half to the snake, half to the stallion. “The snake is Strom, I assume?” she adds, remembering the name yelled her direction when the snake first came her way. “Do you have a name, or should I call you Hairy?” It not clever, but it amuses her anyway, and so she sticks to it. Because she doesn’t think he said his name yet, or she simply didn’t catch it. Either way. This time around she might actually listen.
"words"
“I consider myself lucky then,” she says, possibly actually meaning it. There’s a hint of sincerity laced into that pretty, emotionless voice. But it never hurts to have friends in low places – literally. It doesn’t hurt to have friends in general, probably. But she wouldn’t know, because she has never had friends. That’s the thing about being a predator – you don’t need friends. But she’s not a predator now, and if she’s going to make it in this place that steal magic and doles out only tiny little bits of it, she probably needs to figure out how to make and keep friends. She’s not very friendly, as it turns out.
The silence grows between them, the water of the flats too still and quiet to break the silence. After what is definitely too long, but Syrena doesn’t care, she says. “Syrena,” half to the snake, half to the stallion. “The snake is Strom, I assume?” she adds, remembering the name yelled her direction when the snake first came her way. “Do you have a name, or should I call you Hairy?” It not clever, but it amuses her anyway, and so she sticks to it. Because she doesn’t think he said his name yet, or she simply didn’t catch it. Either way. This time around she might actually listen.
"words"
darya87 | larfsalot
on deviantart
@Albrecht - wooo, I am super slow. Sorry for the wait!
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Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death
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