.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
Syrena
let the water take me
She does indeed spot Hubris first. The raven curled up next to him, golden eyes peering out from black feathers, must be the Mountain. There’s only one raven that would be there. Though in truth, she barely spots him. If Isopia had wanted to stay hidden, Syrena is certain she would have managed to just walk by at that moment without ever looking quite in the right location. But instead, the Czarina speaks, her words coming as enough of a shock that something akin to gratitude might actually cross Syrena’s face.
Isopia may or may not know just how important the piece of seaweed is to Syrena. She simply may care that it carries a powerful magic, or she may simply care more on some principal relating to whatever just happened with the Edge (the details of which Syrena does not know, and does not really care about – though she should). Whatever the reason though, Syrena is grateful. The thought of someone taking her life, her freedom, her piece of home away from her is enough to actually make her consider fighting. She might be willing to touch someone (any by touch, she means pummel) to get her piece of seaweed back.
Though she’s perfectly willing to admit that Isopia is far more suited to that task than Syrena ever will be.
“Thank you,” she says, meaning it, though the words lack emotion as they so often do. “I will.” Because she cannot lose this piece of joy she has earned. Not that she did anything particularly painful to earn this one. Swimming to visit a reef and think thoughts of the surface at them was, as far as tasks in Helovia go, quite a good one. Hell, in truth, even if she’d just found it lying on the beach, she didn’t want to give it up.
“I also wanted to thank you for the chance to serve as Storyteller,” she says, pausing for a moment, trying to figure out the right words. That seemed like a key thing, with Isopia. To use the right words, and also not to bicker about the differences in meaning. That, clearly, wasn’t going to do any good. “Will you teach me what you know?” Another pause, before she remembers to add, “Please,” the word rolling off her tongue in a foreign, strange sound even to her own ears. But she is trying.
"words"
Isopia may or may not know just how important the piece of seaweed is to Syrena. She simply may care that it carries a powerful magic, or she may simply care more on some principal relating to whatever just happened with the Edge (the details of which Syrena does not know, and does not really care about – though she should). Whatever the reason though, Syrena is grateful. The thought of someone taking her life, her freedom, her piece of home away from her is enough to actually make her consider fighting. She might be willing to touch someone (any by touch, she means pummel) to get her piece of seaweed back.
Though she’s perfectly willing to admit that Isopia is far more suited to that task than Syrena ever will be.
“Thank you,” she says, meaning it, though the words lack emotion as they so often do. “I will.” Because she cannot lose this piece of joy she has earned. Not that she did anything particularly painful to earn this one. Swimming to visit a reef and think thoughts of the surface at them was, as far as tasks in Helovia go, quite a good one. Hell, in truth, even if she’d just found it lying on the beach, she didn’t want to give it up.
“I also wanted to thank you for the chance to serve as Storyteller,” she says, pausing for a moment, trying to figure out the right words. That seemed like a key thing, with Isopia. To use the right words, and also not to bicker about the differences in meaning. That, clearly, wasn’t going to do any good. “Will you teach me what you know?” Another pause, before she remembers to add, “Please,” the word rolling off her tongue in a foreign, strange sound even to her own ears. But she is trying.
"words"
darya87 | larfsalot
on deviantart
@Isopia
Please tag in all posts
Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death
Image by Reli
