H U Y A N A
the world is drowning

Rainchild finds herself caught within the tidepool of her mind whilst the whole world swims on carelessly, propelled on by the need to be recognized, the blind lust for power and the instinct to follow. She lets the raindrops wane and the clouds overhead dissipate, revealing a sky lit softly by the moon, its dark fabric tattered by gleaming stars; they reflect in her eyes, a diffused kind of light, spreading through the iris in dark gentle blues and silver, a nebula in their own right as they find the airborne mare, outlined by moonlight and accompanied by a star-bird. Huyana is silent, leonine tail twitching idly as if in waiting - for whom?

When the moonblessed pegasus lands, she is met with a gentle splash, laughter from the ocean as she embraces another into her watery arms. There are stars swimming in her eyes as well, like little silver fish in a sea of teal. The stranger draws closer to our peppered mare, her voice quiet and reverent, as if afraid of waking some sea nymph. Black lips part in a smile as benign as the fingers of water stroking their matched legs of jet, cool as a lover's kiss, glimmering from the moon's pale smile. "Desire and reality are a very different thing, and there are very few who are gracious as she," she says kindly, bowing her inky head in greeting.

This nighttime intruder, so affable and so close in appearance as the roan, dispenses her name easily, like so many are prone to do. Cassiopeia, like the name of a star, so fitting for one who travels in starlight. This exchange will require a name in return, however, and Huyana inhales slightly, relishing the sharp smell of salt. "I am no-one," she murmurs, turning her eyes to the dark horizon, distance in her gaze, like the light years between planets and the vast expance of the ocean. That is a lie, something whispers, something thought to be lost but found. You are the sea and the stars and the nighttime sky and the mist in the morning - you are everything and nothing, queen of nowhere but your mind, a prisoner to your soul, a nighttime wind.

Something distracts her; a hint of light which illuminated the two black faces like day. Blue eyes flick towards Cassiopeia in curiosity. She sees something plunge into the water from the periphery of her vision, several somethings. Sleek, glittering bodies leap from the surface, foam clinging to their forms. She recognizes them immediately: dolphins! A laugh escapes her, a pretty chiming thing; the playful gurgle of falling water.

There is a star creature among them, and the rainchild can only assume that it is of Starfeather's creation as it dances with the others; a divine harmony between the physical and the surreal. The pod pauses before the two roans like shy dogs, their splashes spilling over the girl's chest, platinum hairs black with water. Her mane is pregnant with water, careless tendrils dripping brine as her neck cranes forward, inky nose inclined towards the pseudo fish, like she is greeting old friends.

"Children of the sea," rainchild says with an easy laugh, "- although some may be more celestial than others." Eyes the color of rain find the pegasus, inquiring. "What draws you to the ocean at this hour of night, Starfeather? Or are you a constellation as well?" She finds herself watching the skyborn dolphin with his joyful antics again, elated that something so pristine could exist in this dirty world.