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01-02-2017, 01:28 PM
Syrena
let the water take me
She doesn’t hesitate when Kisamoa calls them. Unlike so many, she doesn’t care if he’s trustworthy or not. He’s the sea. Even made of trash, he’s the sea. And that, for Syrena, is enough. Besides, he gave her the seaweed that now lives mostly tucked away in a safe little corner of her home, because she has no way to carry it. A probably she should remedy, most likely, but hasn’t quite yet figured out how to. Or found the right things, as the case may be.
The string of seashells at least she managed to tie in her mane, the sound of the ocean coming with her wherever she goes. It flows gently from the shells, keeping her calm and almost peaceful. Thanks to the Earth Turtle for that one. Everyone in Helovia might be better off. She might manage to be slightly more personable in conversation, always half distracted by the waves that now crash in her ears. It would, if nothing else, help her patience. Less of a rush to run back to the real waves.
Today, Kisamoa is not at the sea though. He’s in the marshlands. A place she admittedly does not go much, and she should perhaps be ashamed. It is still water, still worth noting, but it is not the sea. She will always prefer it, in the end, even if she should care about all water. Like usual, she keeps to the edge of the group, waiting for her instructions and not making small talk. Isopia is there, which doesn’t surprise her, and Dragomir. She’s almost tempted to go ask him if he’s figured out the mystery of the metal, but that would require walking through other horses, and she’s not that curious.
Besides, Kisamoa is soon explaining their task, and she turns her attention entirely on him. It’s not a task that she’s exactly thrilled about. She’d rather go swimming, not wade through death and decay. But she will do it. She should, after all. She should care more about the ponds and the pools and the rivers than she does. So this is her chance. When he finishes speaking, she’s quick to head off, getting a head start away from the crowd that will soon be dispersing.
"words"
The string of seashells at least she managed to tie in her mane, the sound of the ocean coming with her wherever she goes. It flows gently from the shells, keeping her calm and almost peaceful. Thanks to the Earth Turtle for that one. Everyone in Helovia might be better off. She might manage to be slightly more personable in conversation, always half distracted by the waves that now crash in her ears. It would, if nothing else, help her patience. Less of a rush to run back to the real waves.
Today, Kisamoa is not at the sea though. He’s in the marshlands. A place she admittedly does not go much, and she should perhaps be ashamed. It is still water, still worth noting, but it is not the sea. She will always prefer it, in the end, even if she should care about all water. Like usual, she keeps to the edge of the group, waiting for her instructions and not making small talk. Isopia is there, which doesn’t surprise her, and Dragomir. She’s almost tempted to go ask him if he’s figured out the mystery of the metal, but that would require walking through other horses, and she’s not that curious.
Besides, Kisamoa is soon explaining their task, and she turns her attention entirely on him. It’s not a task that she’s exactly thrilled about. She’d rather go swimming, not wade through death and decay. But she will do it. She should, after all. She should care more about the ponds and the pools and the rivers than she does. So this is her chance. When he finishes speaking, she’s quick to head off, getting a head start away from the crowd that will soon be dispersing.
"words"
darya87 | larfsalot
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Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death
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