She is so often here, if only because she enjoys the swim to the Isles. The water is always refreshing, giving her some renewed sense of belonging and purpose. It is hard to find those things on land, under the God of the Earth. It seemed slightly wrong that she served the God of the very dirt that bound her, but at the same time, it seemed only appropriate. What did she care of the sky (or the moon and sun that hung there), of the time that passed her by? She cared, at least, of the ground that the river cut though, of the cliffs that water plunged from. So she served her captor, because he also gave her the thing she loved most.

Not that she knows much of the God that she’ll need to learn to speak with. Oh, that’ll be an interesting endeavor, certainly, though she does (perhaps strangely) trust Isopia to guide her in this particular task at first. Go figure, for all they don’t get along. She respects the mare, even if she doesn’t like her. They are separate things, after all.

But today, she is not trying to learn anything. Her mind can really only handle so much of anything at once, and so she turns her attention to the Isles, to a refreshing swim. Though she should know better. Nothing ever stays pleasant and simple around here. She’s already on the Isles, lingering in the shallows, her body a spray of cool colors mixed with gray, when everything changes. She can’t explain it, how the water simply feels different suddenly. How the waves feel alive, how they suddenly churn around her with more force than she is used to. It draws her attention from the horizon to the shoreline in time to see something (something?) emerge from the water.

As it comes on land, it’s tail turns to rather lithe, delicate legs. Its head is also strange delicate, though the rest of it seems to be made of up of sea scraps. Its mane is sinewy and seaweedy, and like her, seems to generally lack hair (though she has a normal mane and tail). There are gills slapped onto the creature, and for once, she feels rather normal. Not that she’s normal, but simply like she belongs here now. With this creature that is so similar (and yet so different) than herself.

She doesn’t move for a while, and others come, some speaking loudly, others whispering to each other. It’s not until a familiar gray and blue girl appears that Syrena actually stirs from her place in the water. Seriously, where is this mother’s child? The memory of the animal attack and those damn birds and collecting nuts is all too fresh in her mind still, and she sighs slightly before pulling herself from the water and onto the shore. Slowly, her body fades back to normal seal gray as the Orangemoon breeze dries the water on her slick skin.

She comes to stand somewhat near Bathsheba, though still keeping herself general out of the group. The girl seems preoccupied with something else – that black stallion, maybe? Though Syrena doesn’t think twice about that, or who exactly she’s looking at, or whatever else. It doesn’t matter to the siren. She’s simply grown uncharacteristically fond of the girl, in her way, and so she keeps something of an eye on the child. Who is rather capable alone, but still, Syrena is large and imposing and no one needs to know that she doesn’t actually touch, hit, bite, etc.

She nods at the girl slightly, though says nothing, and doesn’t know if the filly is even paying enough attention to notice. But that too doesn’t bother her, and she turns her attention back to the creature at hand. She’d like to ask just what it is, but she feels like it’s something she should know. And because she’s never seen a thing like it before, she suspects it’s not a typical sea monster (she thinks monster kindly, she’s a monster too, after all). No. Maybe a minor sea god? Maybe, quite literally, it’s just the sea spitting up various pieces of itself to meet them. She really does not know. So instead, she studies the creature quietly, waiting to see what will happen.

Because for once, she doesn’t think this is a bad idea. It probably is, but it doesn’t matter to her. It’s one of the few times in this world she doesn’t feel out of place.

les words "chat chat"
Nods to @Bathsheba, stands kind of near Bathsheba and off to the side quietly

Syrena

let the water take me