She’s probably kidding herself, thinking she actually belongs here. Well no, that’s not really a true statement. She doesn’tbelong here, or anywhere. She belongs in the sea, and wherever it might take her. Look at her, after all. Her skin is slick and gray, more seal than horse, with a constant wetness to it. Her stomach and legs are scaled, fins sprout from behind her ears and on the back of her legs. She is not a land animal. She is not a herd creature, either, though she tries. Why? Because there’s no other option for her. Helovia stole her magic, and leaving does not get it back. At least here she might earn some of it back. At least here, she might be able to make something of her life. Not remotely what it was, but something.

Yea, first she had to maybe figure out how to fit in. Or have social skills. Or pick a freaking job. Something.

Instead, she comes back to the Threshold. She’s far from the world’s greatest recruiter, giving the truth without any real “oh but come to the Falls because it’s the best!” flaire. She can’t even. It’s not her style. At least she’s here, which is possibly more she can say for the limited members of the Falls. Though they were coming out of the woodwork now that Tallsun had ended, so perhaps something would happen in that place. Maybe. Though in truth, she had kind of liked the quiet. Being sociable isn’t her forte, after all.

She weaves through the forest of the Threshold quite literally like a fish out of water. She knows the paths well, and if nothing else, she is reasonably sure footed. But still, it’s clear that her favorite place is not a forest. But here she is anyway, wandering without much purpose until a voice catches her attention. Might as well, she thinks, despite the fact that the voice sounds very chipper.

Turning her course, she makes her way toward the sound. There are two stallions and a dog. The one stallion is pretty normal, as far as Helovia goes. The dog isn’t all that strange either. The other stallion though. Well hell, he makes Syrena look like plain jane chestnut. He’s got electric blue on his face and rump, more wings than she can count, and some rather interesting jewelry. She’s used to weird, if nothing else, but still. The tail alone…

Whatever.

She approaches anyway, not actually put off by the stallion’s appearance (it’s Helovia after all, and she’s a fish, so she can’t really judge). “Syrena,” she offers, figuring that’s enough to start. The other stallion had already said a full sentence, which seemed like more than enough to get this conversation rolling, and Syrena doesn’t talk more than she has to.



les words "chat chat"

Syrena

let the water take me