the Rift


[OPEN] Some story this is.

Dragomir Posts: 275
World's Edge Glazier atk: 6 | def: 9 | dam: 5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17" :: 7 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Bunnie
#1

He’d learned a thing or two about his magic, ever since it had startled him on the beach.
 
The first of his studies had occurred on that distant shore, his mind plucking away at the various threads he knew to consist in this tapestry of mystery; he’d been standing, dwelling on memories, when it had come to occur.  He had been on a beach.  There had been the raven, with her dragon companion, and the added complication of this being Helovia (heavily magical and never easy to assume, what with its boundless diversity and peculiarities).  Still, though he couldn’t pinpoint why precisely, he was sure that the magic that had made the miniature Israfel had been his.
 
Who else here could known such a thing as the dragon’s precise appearance, but a telepath?  While he hadn’t taken the raven to be such, she certainly could have been.  Regardless, he’d had the dragon statuette before she arrived, and, surely, he’d have noticed something peculiar as a dragon and a raven watching him, had that been the case.
 
So he’d gone to repeating what he had been doing before, but, this time, to prove it was himself, he’d chosen a different stretch of beach, and a different image.  For many days, to no avail, he shuffled and meandered, gazed and pondered, but no creation burst forth from the sand as it had before.  Still, patience was certainly one of his virtues, and so he continued trying, returning as often as he could to Ranjiri, to tell her of his failures, before coming back.
 
One day, though, he found himself successful.
 
Staring down at the metal object, and the seeming stem of metal rising from the earth, the painted crafter swiftly set to unearthing the rest of the diminutive metal pillar rising from the sand (burying, and losing, his creation in the process – the tiny figurine of a bear, once spied from a distance on his many ventures).  Digging away the shifting particles, the stallion was quite baffled, at first, to find a hollow at the base of the iron stem, a weird, partially melted smattering of something he did not know the name of creating a dome like shape over the whole empty space (slag, the remnants of metal stripped ores, though he hasn’t the word for it).
 
Rather than keeping (or even looking for) the bear, he’d kept… it.  Returning to the Hidden Falls, this time, with some sort of news on his investigation, he has proceeded to spend the next week staring down at the thing that had been beneath his magic, trying, for the life of him, to figure out how it works.  It’s what he’s doing now, his dark nose occasionally dropping to run his lips over the rough iron, settled atop a smooth blanket of snow, as he ponders, his mind recreating the image as it had been before he’d unearthed it, and as it might have been, before he’d even began to.

Around him, the world is peaceful, and white; the trees which encircle the small space are not dense, allowing for the sound of the herd passing by occasionally to trickle in, allowing him enough semblance of company to allow the reclusive stallion to feel somewhat involved in their conversations, and lives.  The sort of fellow to prefer his own company and the silent, introspective web of thought that being alone often led to, Dragomir found that he did not mind being outside of their niches, still; he was, after all, not the usual sort, always studying this creation or that phenomenon, and, more of then than not, he found that what he enjoyed discussing often made those he talked to glaze over with boredom, at the very least.

It was better to simply study this metal, for now, and occasionally his newly given stone abilities.  He also had Letha to watch over when Ranjiri was busy, and Ranjiri herself to tend to, and care for, not to mention whatever tasks were sure to arrive soon with his Masonry skills.  However, being familiar with the Godly creation magic in ways he was not familiar with his own, he was far more keen on studying that which he did not understand, especially with many, almost promised, opportunities to work with the Earth's gift on behalf of the herd.

If only he could figure out anything more than this!  He thinks with a frustrated snort.
 
[ OOC:  Behold Dragomir, staring at things again.  :’D Open to anyone! ]


Dragomir
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Syrena Posts: 207
Dragon's Throat Forger
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.1 hh :: 7 years
Thelxiepeia :: Royal Rougarou :: Water Kyra
#2

She has always kept to herself, and being given a job that has bestowed on her a pool all to herself has pretty much turned her into a recluse. Except for that nagging feeling in the back of her head that keeps reminding her to leave the damn pool, because she’s supposed to be doing things. Supposed to be living. Whatever that meant. She still couldn’t entirely grasp the point of this mortal life. Wake up, toil away, sleep, do it again. One day, die. So what was the actual point of it all? Nothing. Nothing nothing nothing.

So why does she keep doing it? Stubbornness, mostly. She refuses to die. Dying would be giving up, and if nothing else, she cannot bring herself to completely give up. There must be something worth living for, even if she was only living long enough to earn a place in the waves with her sisters one day. To earn some bits of magic that vaguely resemble what she could once do. But changing color in the water and making seaweed grow were merely parlor tricks.

Eventually, she rouses herself from the pool (mostly because it is cold as hell in there lately), and begins to wander the Falls. Like always, it is quiet, though less so than when she moved back. There’d been almost no one around then. At least now, there was life to be heard rustling in the trees, a few conversations that drifted on the cold Frostfall wind. Not that she found herself going toward any of them. Instead, she just wandered, figuring that counted as doing something without forcing a conversation.

It isn’t until she stumbles (almost literally, but not quite) on a vaguely familiar stallion that she decides she might as well try talking to someone. And really, only because she figures she can’t just turn tail and run after coming this close to someone else. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” she says at first, because he looks like he’s concentrating on something. A piece of metal? There’s something in the snow that apparently is fascinating, but hell if she knows just exactly why this inanimate object is fascinating. This is Helovia though, so she doesn’t question it, either.

She remains silent for a moment, ocean eyes looking the stallion over with some level of recognition, trying to come up with a name. It takes her a few heartbeats too long before she finally figures it out. “Dragomir?” It is a question, of sorts. In some ways, she’s making sure she’s right. In others, she’s simply surprised he came. Particularly after her behavior in the Threshold. Though her deadpan voice doesn’t give much away, though there’s half a question in the name, and that’s about all he’s likely to get

les words "chat chat"

Syrena

let the water take me

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@Dragomir - hope you don't mind more awkward ;)

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Dragomir Posts: 275
World's Edge Glazier atk: 6 | def: 9 | dam: 5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17" :: 7 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Bunnie
#3
It was easy for a man like him to lose his entire sense of self on something as bizarre as the metal object at his hooves. So easy, in fact, that it is not long before he fails to notice the odd song of the late dwelling bird, or the sound of hooves tramping down on the snow outside of where he has settled himself for his studies. He certainly does notice, however, when one of those exterior interruptions enters his clearing.

He actually might not have looked up to see her at all, if the familiar woman hadn’t said something. With a swift, upwards look from his work, eyes wide and worried, the stallion’s naturally nervous state sends a raucous of worries thrashing through his system at the interruption, though its short lived enough, considering he knows this woman. The spread of his blue eyes eases as soon as he recognizes the stranger in his borrowed clearing (he had not found a permanent one, yet), and a friendly smile wrinkles his dark features in greeting.

Unlike many, Dragomir does not mind being interrupted while he works, especially by herd-mates. He’d had plenty of practice being a herd crafter while serving Kahlua and Mirage, and one of the first things he had learned was that others cared very little for the studies of others, especially those being made in the middle of the herd-land. It wasn’t to say that they didn’t question the art, or what was occurring, simply that the average person was not content to simply watch a man stare at natural fibers, glass, metal, or stone for very long at all. While it doesn’t seem that Syrena at all intends to ask after the making of things, the practical applications are the same, and Dragomir happily sets aside his work, for conversation.

As the siren before him, it takes Dragomir too long to draw her name from his memory. Thankfully, the delay provided by her lack of immediate knowledge allows him time to remember.

"Hello, Syrena," his deep bass croaks, hours of disuse making the throat dry, and unprepared for words. Clearing his throat and swallowing down a wad of moisture, he continues. "You haven’t interrupted much, don’t worry."

He’d only been here all day, staring at the metal to no avail, his happy smile of welcome fading for the furrowed frown of disheartenment. Glancing back down at it, he morosely taps at it with a snow dipped fore-hoof. The same lackluster ring sounds from it, but no more, and no less.

"Is this your clearing?" he questions of her, suddenly, a certain nervousness arising in him, causing the pale blue of his eyes to quaver as he latches them back onto the peculiar features of the mythical dame. He will admit he’s not entirely sure who stays where, in the Hidden Falls, anyway, having only lived here a short while. While he can tell you where he, Letha, and Ranjiri slept, that was about the extent of his knowledge, in so far as the housing habits of those in this realm, and the sudden thought that, maybe, he was the one interrupting things strikes him full of humility, as such thoughts often do. "I can leave, if so. I have done little but study this object, and things should be as you left them."

[ OOC: OH YEAH I'M SLOW WOOOO ]

Dragomir
I hope tomorrow you find better things.
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Syrena Posts: 207
Dragon's Throat Forger
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.1 hh :: 7 years
Thelxiepeia :: Royal Rougarou :: Water Kyra
#4

She is honestly surprised by the smile that he greets her with. Maybe he doesn’t remember her. Because that seems the only explanation for the friendly smile and kind words that he gives her. She’d been anything but personable in the Threshold that day, and she’d been trying to do better ever since. Somewhere, even graceless Syrena felt a bit ashamed for her behavior that day, unintentional though it had been. Sometimes she feels like a child here, always fumbling for the right words, wondering what in her magic had made a song so easy and without it, made words so impossible.

Bit by bit, she was learning to mimic, learning to at least feign like she cared as people talked about the weather. She did care, at least, when conversations of consequence came up. She liked talking about history and the Gods, found that she enjoyed learning the stories of Helovia. This much, she could do. Collect stories and tell them over and over. Stories didn’t require that she think of the right words – they had their own words already for her to simply repeat.

He doesn’t seem upset by her intrusion, but rather worried he’s encroached on her personal space. She shakes her head slightly, tossing her mane and the charm that hangs there against her neck. “No, it’s not. I simply happened to be wandering though.” She tries to add something that maybe sounds like reassurance to her voice, though even she knows it falls flat. Mostly, her voice is as it always is – beautiful and without emotion. So much like her, though she does not feel beautiful.

Truthfully, she doesn’t even know if someone calls this clearing home. She doesn’t know much about the other residents of the Falls. She knows where her pool is, and no one ever bothers her there. That has always been enough for her. But it’s never even crossed her mind that she mind be stumbling about in someone else’s personal space. Ah, Syrena, will you ever learn? she thinks silently, but says nothing. Instead, he mentions the object that he’s been staring at, and poking now and again. “What is it?” she asks instead, turning the topic of conversation, vaguely curious what about the hunk of metal has him so intrigued.


les words "chat chat"

Syrena

let the water take me

image credits

Please tag in all posts
Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death
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Dragomir Posts: 275
World's Edge Glazier atk: 6 | def: 9 | dam: 5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17" :: 7 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Bunnie
#5
Dragomir did not hold grudges, or store ill-will anywhere in his heart, but for those who had gravely hurt him, or those he loved. Syrena, while certainly rude, hadn’t done anything truly harmful to the tricolored man, or Alysanne, for that matter, and it had not taken him long to forget she’d even offended or confused him at all. He certainly would hope for this forgiveness if the tables were turned, and he had often been without the right words or attitude, himself.

Sure, he was getting better at it, the older he got. Other years before this one, he might not have attempted to add any words to the initial statement of Syrena’s name as she arrived; he might have even been listening for the approach of strangers, and left before she could talk to him. Yet, his years among the herds of Helovia had taught him that, sometimes, it was good to spend your time with people other than yourself, especially those who were different.

How else would he have his Ranjiri, and little Letha?

Syrena was certainly different, with her aquatic attributes, which he again looks over with a small internal struggle. He had been raised to dislike those who were different, after all, but that training had worn down over his many years among so many unlike himself. While he’d gotten quite used to things like horns, and wings, beings like Syrena still tended to catch him on the wrong hoof, causing that childhood discomfort to squirm back to life. Still, he does his best to keep these thoughts to himself, remembering Mirage’s words, as he always does.

"Ah, that’s good," he happily concludes, when she reassures it’s not her clearing, a chocolate ear twisting back to capture the stray song of some winter bird. Glancing back down at the object as its questioned after, the stallion taps it with a single, massive hoof, one lack luster ting! weakly sounding from it.

"I’m not sure," he frowns, staring at it, his blue eyes shrouded with the heavy lines of furrowed, thoughtful brows; reaching into a satchel after loosening the clasp, he places the bronze dragon statuette on the ground alongside it, gently, "I think I made these metal things."

Well, isn’t that just scientific? Still staring at the things, as if they might speak to him, if he stares hard enough, he tears his gaze away when he realizes he likely sounds, well… crazy.

"One minute, I was standing there on the beach, thinking, you know?" rumbles the deep voice the stallion, not wanting to get too into what he was thinking about, because it makes him sad, and the lure of discovery drives him on, his words more rapid than they would be if he were talking about, say, the weather, "Next thing I knew, the dragon was there. So, I tried it again, with a bear, I think… This, well, whatever it is, was buried beneath it, in the sand."

"Never seen anything like it," mutters the man, returning his eyes to the pieces on the frosty earth, "they’re definitely metal though. And I didn’t make them seemingly appear like one makes the Goddess’ glass, or the Earth’s stone… I don’t think so, anyway."



Dragomir
I hope tomorrow you find better things.
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Syrena Posts: 207
Dragon's Throat Forger
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.1 hh :: 7 years
Thelxiepeia :: Royal Rougarou :: Water Kyra
#6

If the tables were turned, she never would have even thought twice about it. Probably, anyway. She wasn’t all that in tune with what might be considered rude (obviously) and she found that sometimes people apologized at her for things she’d never thought merited an apology. Isopia was the only one she’d found that she struggled with, really, and that she was quickly learned was because Isopia was literal whereas Syrena used few words and assumed everyone else could fill in the blanks. The Mountain was a lesson in patience for Syrena, and one that truthfully, she needed.

Their conversations had grown easier, both parties trying to figure it out. As did her other conversations. Sometimes she did better than others. Always, the deadpan nature of her voice seemed to be off-putting to those that didn’t know her, but eventually, she found most grew used to it. Or at least, pretended they did. Either way, she didn’t care. It was one of those things about herself that likely wouldn’t change much. Now and again, hints of emotion crept in that pretty voice of hers, but mostly she was a strange mix that made her something like a beautiful wall.

She is grateful their conversation has purpose, because this she can do. She can stand here and study the little metallic thing with him, not necessarily because she cares about the little metallic thing, but because the result of the conversation could perhaps be useful. And really, she just needs to learn. Everything, anything. It doesn’t matter what. She feels woefully ignorant in this position as Storyteller.

He tells his story, and she listens with one ear cocked in his direction, the other swiveling around just to keep a tab of her surrounds. She’s no warrior or sleuth, but she’s got no desire to let others sneak up on her. Helovian’s had a nasty habit of running right into her, and she was seriously over it.

“Magic?” she asks, half question, half statement. It must be some sort of magic. The question, rather, was what. She thinks on his story more, trying to pay attention to the details, wondering what exactly what going on. It’s a strange feeling for her, to think on something like this, to care enough to maybe find an answer. Not that she is likely to find an answer. She could teach him to lure his prey into the ocean; she could not teach him anything about crafting magic.

“Was there anything there before the dragon?” She’s not entirely sure what the dragon was, but assumes it was something metal probably and not a real dragon. But if the things weren’t made of nothing like crafting magic…then something must have been there first. Probably. “Are you a crafter?” she adds, realizing he speaks of crafting magic like he’s familiar with it. Though maybe, like her, he’s just seen it.


les words "chat chat"

Syrena

let the water take me

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@Dragomir

Please tag in all posts
Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death
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Dragomir Posts: 275
World's Edge Glazier atk: 6 | def: 9 | dam: 5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17" :: 7 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Bunnie
#7
She listens patiently, even adding in words when necessary breaks occur.

Magic? She asks, and he nods his head and makes a hum of agreement; he is of the same mind set, though his experiences with magic have been few and far between, aside from his former task as a glass maker, for the Goddess of the Moon, and the people of the World’s Edge. That he now served as a Mason in the Hidden Falls did not change his lack of experience wielding, or being around magic, and that his mother had thought of the entire energetic flux of whatever it was as being nearly a God in and of itself did not help to his natural bewilderment when approaching it.

Dragomir did not know much, but he did seek to understand the immortal makers of the world. That magic could be considered, by many, greater still than those which had made the very realm in which they existed, left the stallion feeling rather lost when it came to approaching the power which seemed to permeate every pore of Helovia.

"I do not believe so," he answers, shaking his head no while recalling the beach, and the sea; it had been him, and the sand, and sand was not naturally magic, as far as he knew. That meant it was him, or something in proximity, or a very, very peculiar coincidence. That the dragon was Israfel, as the painted crafter had thought of him in the moment of its appearance, left the stallion sure (without proof) that it had been derived from his very will.

Yet, why beneath his hoof? Why not before him, gently laying on the sand, as the glass or the stone would appear? What he knew of making with the mind did not add up in this instance. There was something else. Something more.

Maybe there had been something else on the beach, after all, he thinks, about to delve more into that thought when Syrena’s voice pulls him back out of himself.

"Yes," he remarks with a smile, his crystalline eyes glowing with pride, and the honor he felt to serve a herd again, especially one ruled by his beloved, "I met Ranjiri after we parted, in the forest of greetings. I like making things, and I guess I’m not half bad at it, because she asked me if I would serve as a Mason, to help her and the Mountain here."



Dragomir</style>
I hope tomorrow you find better things.</style>
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@Syrena
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Any violence/magic is allowed to be used upon Dragomir at anytime, permitting it doesn't kill or seriously maim him without my permission <3

Syrena Posts: 207
Dragon's Throat Forger
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.1 hh :: 7 years
Thelxiepeia :: Royal Rougarou :: Water Kyra
#8

She understood magic in such a different way from Helovian’s. Her first experience was magic was simply that it was hers. It was not some gift given from some Gods (she had not believed in Gods, not then). It was simply part of herself. In truth, her magic had been her very soul, and to have it ripped out without warning as it was left her with a bitter taste in her mouth for the Gods of this realm. All powerful beings who saw fit to control the level of magic that their subjects wielded. Did the fear what might happen, if they left lowly mortals with such magic as they might bring to this place? Did they fear her, a monster in beautiful skin?

But slowly, time had eased some of the bitterness and hate. She’d met the Earth God enough times to believe that at least was rather benevolent, though she knew little of the other Gods that controlled this place. If nothing else, she was not stupid, and she respected the power they wielded. Power that she, clearly, did not have and never did. Worshipping them might be a step far, and she wondered just why some blindly followed their Gods? Being a God did not inherently make you good. But she respected them, and followed them to save her own hide. And in truth, because they were her path back to any trace of the magic she once had.

He says that he does not believe anything else was there, and in truth, this leaves her without alternative ideas. She’s not really the best one for help. She seeks knowledge and stories, yes, but she does not seek to figure things out. Merely to know the facts. “Perhaps you should return there, and see if you can do so again? And take inventory of anything and everything around you?” It is the best, and really the only, suggestion she can think of.

The topic turns, just slightly, to his position in the herd as he answers her question. She listens, glad to have found one of the mason’s in this herd. Perhaps their herd quest had been denied, but she would like to know what the crafters planned as she might as well use the magic she’d been given. “I also have crafting magic from our God,” she says simply. “I have never used it, but I would like to help you and your ranks, if there are things I can do.”


les words "chat chat"

Syrena

let the water take me

image credits


@Dragomir

Please tag in all posts
Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death
Image by Reli

Dragomir Posts: 275
World's Edge Glazier atk: 6 | def: 9 | dam: 5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17" :: 7 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Bunnie
#9
Her suggestion to return and think about it is a good one, so good, in fact, that he’d already gone and done just that, at least a half dozen times. After the last attempt without any ideas rising to mind, he’d glumly returned home, to an equally cross Ranjiri, who disliked his long wandering, especially after he’d left Helovia the last time, and her lover had been killed. Thinking about it here, Dragomir thinks to himself, was just as good as there, on the beach, for all the help it had been to remain there for as long as he had, pondering something he was just not yet meant to figure out.

"That’s a good idea," he answers, with a smile, too kind of heart to continue shooting her down, and, also, having discovered that talking about his problems do little to alleviate them. Besides, sometimes the best ideas came to you when you weren’t looking for them at all.

Shoving the vision of the beach out of his mind, he gladly delves into what had become his life’s work. Though he certainly hadn’t envisioned himself as a creator of objects when he’d been small, the painted stallion had found that there was very little peace to be found in the world, like that which he found while making. It had not been his intention, but it was now his life, and Dragomir is always happy to share with others one of the greatest blessings he had ever been given.

Lighting up, with a smile, his gaze is unsure, mostly because he is, too; still, the idea of again doing something meaningful for people who needed it was exciting, and it was equally interesting that, of all the people to have met him in the Threshold, it had been someone who could make, too.

"I don’t know if there are any plans in order," he says, not recalling any sort of task mentioned by Ranjiri for which he would be suited; he had, however, wandered a good bit about the Falls, and had discovered a couple places that seemed in need of attention, "but the soldiers will need equipment, and then there is a Healer’s Hut, that could use some extra touches."

"I find it hard to believe you’ve never used the magic before," he smiles, having used the power within hours of having received it, himself, eager to experience the flow of magic his parents had told him of; of course, he also hadn’t been born a very magical creature, either, rather quite the opposite, "either way, something small is probably best, to start. Its easier to make the little stuff… for me anyway."



Dragomir
I hope tomorrow you find better things.
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Syrena Posts: 207
Dragon's Throat Forger
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.1 hh :: 7 years
Thelxiepeia :: Royal Rougarou :: Water Kyra
#10

She wouldn’t have really cared if he’d shot her down again. Truthfully, she didn’t expect any of her ideas to be useful. What did she possibly know about turning something in bears or dragons or whatever by thinking about it? She could make water plants grow just by thinking about it. That’s what she knows, and all she needed to know. Well, she could make them grow as long as there’s water.

Oh. Maybe. Maybe she’s totally wrong. Magic is a weird and fickle thing, but whatever, she’s trying this whole polite and useful thing. Why? Because she’s pretty sure that’s how conversations are supposed to work. How building relationships (ugh) works – you care about other people’s problems. Or at least feign some level of interest. But still, she is vaguely curious now.

“I can make seaweed grow, so long as I am near water, she says in that deadpan voice of hers, which makes it sound like she’s just gone completely off topic for no reason. But she continues anyway, not really caring what she sounds like. “Can you shape things so long as, and she pauses, pointing at the thing with her hoof at the moment, “Well, as long as whatever that thing is made out of is nearby?”

But now she’s really out of ideas, and while one day she might care to find out what he can actually do, she’s running out of the ability to care about this particular topic. So when it switches back to crafting and the Falls, she is grateful. Work and the herd is just an easier topic for her to handle. Not that she likes working, necessary, or does anything all that stellar for the Falls. But rather, it’s just easy common ground. And Syrena has no idea how to otherwise find common ground.

She listens to him politely, though finding herself almost crestfallen (almost, she doesn’t quite feel enough to ever make it crestfallen) that there are no plans. Did any of the ranks do anything? Maybe they did and she just didn’t know. Entirely possible. But she’s actually around a lot, and she assumes she would see more life other than her and Dragomir and Isopia.

If she were sassy or clever or really, anyone else, she might point out that he could make plans. But she assumes he knows this, particularly given that he seems to know Ranjiri and replaced her even. So like usual, she doesn’t say anything, sticking to less words. “There’s nothing I need,” she says simply, “And nothing the herd has asked of me. But perhaps I could help with the hut.”

Perhaps she offers because she’s actually capable of nostalgia, almost missing the gray mare who’d welcomed Syrena back into the Falls. Her first foray, really, into this herd had been lashing that damn roof together with Brisa and sticking it in place. “Perhaps some of those items would be small? Starting small sounds great.” Because hell if she’s building another roof again.



les words "chat chat"

Syrena

let the water take me

image credits


@Dragomir

Please tag in all posts
Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death
Image by Reli


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