N y x a
She would feel differently about many things, if she understood the half of them.
Nyxa has yet to peel the glamour of life from her eyes; even now, surrounded by the black-dark and crowded by the pressure of his gift nudging her between the shoulderblades, she still cannot seem to gather enough sense to see how thin of a line she’s currently walking. She only lowers her ears at first, mutters an irritated “Ow,” as he re-shapes himself out of the waves, and ends with a simple “That hurt.”
The little nymph flirts with death and chooses to chastise its methods. Adorable.
I have many homes he grumbles, the expression of pained frustration missed by the younger girl who’s turned a curious eye to investigate the myriad of sea squid gathering around them. One flits especially close to her face and she studies it with the hint of a smile, her vocals working to hum along with the jerk, jerk, jerk of its propelling nature. In that moment (the one before she turns her eyes to him with disbelief) there is everything indicative of their differences and nothing to link them together aside from the sea.
Nyxa is happy to lose herself to the waves, to spin her songs and collect her seaglass where the waters are warmest and bright. Maugrim is lord of the water; he cares for little aside from his own interests.
Much more beautiful than anything on land the green-and-pearl stallion says - so confident and assured. But Nyxa turns to him, aghast at this news (and at finding him so close!) with one thought to strike his statement dead where it stands. “Hod is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on,” the wingless mare knows, “the most beautiful and the most landlocked being there is.”
Suddenly she feels sick. Her hooves churn the wet silt into a hazy film that rises as Nyxa circles slowly away from the ethereal beast. Her eyes no longer deign to rest upon his features, nor do her ears long for some pearl of wisdom from his lips. Maugrim was wrong, dead wrong, and she feels betrayed into thinking he could be anything as grand as the sea god himself. “Just like the other earth-dwellers.” The girl ponders, her narrow chest fluttering with equal measures of pain and longing. She shouldn’t be here - it was all gone to hell now and that prick of concern she’d ignored earlier was back with a vengeance. “Never.” She responds curtly, “It’s been interesting, though.”
A headache grows from the pressure between her eyes and she blinks away frightened tears, hopeful that her emotions and growing panic will be hidden by the cadence of her voice as she warbles, “The hour grows late … perhaps we should do this another time?” Nyxa isn’t certain this will work (trusting imbecile) but she manages to gather her wings again, the desire to be far away helping to speed along the process. A testing flap disturbs the deep and lazy squid and for a moment, her hooves lift free of the sand.
She actually believes he’ll just let her go.
Every kiss is a door, Can I knock on yours?
@[Maugrim]