She had always planned on coming, ever since Lena and Rexanna visited the Falls. Why? She wasn’t actually sure. Because festivals meant horses. Lots of them. Which meant there would probably be some accidental touching. But she’s gotten pretty good at avoiding that, even if crowds. She’s getting more used to herd living, even if parts of it still grate on her (meetings, meetings involve so many horses). But for the most part, she just found herself bored, and figured the festival would be something to do. Or at the very least (at the time) show her another herd land and maybe she’d decide to move.

Though a lot had changed since then, and she wouldn’t be moving. Now she was heading to the festival to learn. What a strange concept. She would have to ask questions, would have to listen, would have to care. But in truth, of all the things she could do, stories were rather agreeable. Her job was to listen and learn history. She didn’t have to pretend to be nice and diplomatic about it – she just couldn’t outright insult anyone about it. She didn’t have to lift heavy objects (sometimes the phantom muscle ache of moving logs still hunts her from the damn hut). She didn’t have to pretend like she cared enough to heal, or touch anyone in spars or sneakily knocking them out.

Being a storyteller was a job she was, at least, reasonably suited to. As far as her being suited to any actual job went. Mostly, she was suited to swimming. But that couldn’t be her entire life now. She makes her way to the Basin slowly, her steps plodding but sure, even though the mountain pass. It’s not like she’s not used to mountains, living in the Falls and all. Though it’s still clear she’s not the most comfortable on land. She doesn’t move with a much grace here as she might elsewhere, and her scaled, seal-gray skin and fins give her away anyway. So she doesn’t try to hide it.

Still, she makes it to the frozen herd land without much incident. It’s markedly colder, which she already hates, but the mountains around them block the worst of the wind, and there’s surprisingly a good bit of grasses around. The sky dances with color, and if she were asked, she might actually admit it’s rather lovely. But likely, no one will asked, and she doesn’t volunteer small talk typically. She’s not there for long before a voice reaches her ears. The voice is familiar, belonging to one of the two mares that visited (she doesn’t remember which), and is the one she follows. This is the one promises stories, which is exactly why she is here.

She’s not the first to arrive. There’s a mare from the Falls there already, and Alysanne, who she recalls from Threshold recently. She slides into the group, keeping herself to the side and back and bit though. Not quite near the fire (fire and water are not friends, and therefore, she’s not a huge fan), though near enough to catch some of the warmth from it. She nods to the group, offering, “Syrena,” mostly for Lena’s benefit, since she never actually introduced herself before. “Stories of the Time God, and the Basin?” She says, inclining her head a bit toward Alysanne as if agreeing with that suggestion, but adding in her own part. She needs to know everything, but asking for “everything” seemed a little stupid. So she sticks to her still rather broad request, hoping she’s come across as polite despite the rather emotionless voice. That part is just never going to change.


les words "chat chat"

Syrena

let the water take me