Rikyn

Whether it’s something I’ve said, or something Tiamat has discovered her own way, I am soon following her pretty blue figure into the sea. Duir, not keen on the notion of the deep dark unknown below the waves, lingers by the boulder, his thoughts occasionally perforating my thoughts with wonder and worry.

The weed, soggy, bitter, and covered in oddly flavorless slime, meets my tongue, actually managing to steal the initial shock of the cold, Orangemoon water against my skin with its all around awfulness. Struggling to not spit it out contemptuously, I instead try to pit my focus against making my way down, down after the nimbly swimming God.

Pushing against the water to keep up with Tiamat, my cloven hooves poorly drag my body deeper and deeper, wild hair swirling in cryptic blue green shades. The sea mare is even more ethereal in this realm, her azure mane twirling and rippling behind her. As I’d promised, I keep the distance between us minimal, even glancing over at her with a comforting smile (and mouth full of salty, weird water, and horrible sea-plant) when Kisamoa’s beacon begins to illuminate the inky blackness below. The water grows colder the deeper we go, a curious thing, and soon, the yellow sunlight dancing up above is only a faint, blue glow, the pressure of the fluid humming and thrumming in my ears.

What had been a tightening of my heart in fear of that cold, bleak emptiness eases into wonder at the sight of the reefs.

Bubbles trickle upwards as I exhale in surprise, and Kisamoa’s voice floods my mind. With my eyes ceaselessly roving from miraculous, brightly shaded corals to the odd, myriad of fishes, I find that I can entirely understand why Tiamat loved the sea so much. What a cool place it is down here! Even if it’s all a trick, and Kisamoa is to drown us, at least I would die having seen this.

"Running," I think, loudly, as I am asked, when I notice that the fish have no legs. I imagine my hooves biting into the gritty sand of the beach, the salty wind tangling its fingers through my mane. I feel the snow break away clean to my knees, soft, and cold, the powder dancing in ribbons behind my wake, clinging to my black pelt. Leaves crumble with fall’s music beneath the thrumming rhythm of my hooves, and grasses slap and sway; no scene is set in the same time, some paired with the early light, or the late light, the mid-afternoon, or the evening, each setting adding new and unique sensations to the steady thrumming of one’s heart in time with their churning limbs.

[ OOC: Rikyn's word is "running." He continues to try and keep up with Tiamat (to protect her, of course ;D) but is also quite enamored by the fishes ]