She stands off to the side for a reason. Usually it works. Usually, everyone just leaves her alone. Probably because of the emotionless look on her face, or the off-putting way she keeps to herself, or the fact she’s half a fish and that’s just weird. But apparently these cues are lost on elephants, or this particular elephant. Either way. It takes every ounce of effort not to go reeling backward, away from the elephant and that outstretched trunk.

This is what you get for joining a herd. And a getting a damn title, she thinks. Knowing full well she has to be polite and reasonable and basically not herself in a situation like this. Because currently she represents the falls or some nonsense like that, and she’s here to learn because that’s her job now (oh, just think of your own personal pool though,), and she’s here to be…well, kind of sociable.

Dammit.

Her face might actually have a hint of emotion on it – something that is probably akin to agony. Because she does not want this elephant near her, but she’s trying very hard to be friendly. Biting her own lip, and against every instinct, she sticks a foot out and nods at it. Saying, without actually saying, you can touch a tiny little party. Briefly. It’s the best she can manage, and even that has her entire insides crawling and she feels a hell of lot like she might burst into flames at any minute.

As soon as the elephant touches (if she does at all, maybe Syrena’s discomfort is so obvious even an elephant can tell), Syrena drops her foot and takes a slight step back. There, she thinks, vaguely proud of herself. Everyone else would probably wonder what on the Earth God’s green earth she has to be proud of. But that is a huge leap forward for her. Take it.

Thankfully, Lena starts in on her story, and Syrena turns her attention away from the elephant (though still thinking go away now) and to the topic at hand. This is why’d she come. It’s her job to learn the history of this place – of the Falls specifically, but of everything generally. And so she listens with a level of attention she does not normally have – ears perked forward, face still a mask of nothing though perhaps with a tiny glimmer in her ocean-blue eyes.

The Basin’s storyteller is a pretty thing, her words almost enchanting. Far more befitting a story teller than Syrena – who didn’t actually like talking, or other horses. But she could be more like this. She knew how. It was just a matter of trying, of remembering what it was like when her siren powers were intact. Some of those powers weren’t magic at all, just a learned skill. Smile sweetly, sing beautifully (her voice is still lovely, even though there’s no emotion to it now).

The story she paints for them now is the beginning of the Basin. Like so many things, this place was born of ash. Given to those who hadn’t been strong enough to keep their own home. Did they make them unworthy, or did their perseverance in the cold and their hope give them worth in the eyes of the Gods? It was a question to ask the Gods, perhaps.

The story comes to an end, and Alysanne offers comforting words. Syrena has no such words to give, just a nod of her head that is, somehow, respectful (even coming for her). It is a thank you without words, an acknowledgment that it has cost Lena something to give them this information. Though she told it beautifully, it is a story that seems to be very much a part of the mare. It is also a nod that encourages more. Syrena was simply here to listen.


les words "chat chat"

Syrena

let the water take me