-Oh my love, don't forsake me; Take what the water gave me-
They’ve talked about the past, about longing and love lost, but they haven’t talked about regret.
It comes to mind when he mentions the Tundra. Born of heat and fire with an attitude to match, Circinae had kept to her childhood sands and preferred the company of adders and scorpions rather than the company of her own kind. It had cost her - in the experience of knowing her homeland before it fell. Now, she feels too at home in this new land; already the burning sands and starry night skies fade from memory. Their sharpness feels dulled by his final question.
“I wanted my children’s children to grow up here, on this island.” She spoke, a private wish now uttered aloud because she knows it will never come true. “But politics and thrones are no place to raise a family.” She sighs, easing forward until the lapping water hungrily envelopes her forehooves. She cannot regret coming here, taking this burden onto her back. It had felt right - her followers had agreed and their support had been more than she expected.
But her family - Canaan and Jah-Lilah, Crevan and Corvus, perhaps even Nyxa now - feel as if they’ve lost her. “It was never meant to last.” She wants to tell him and for a brief moment, Circinae’s eyes fly to Brennen’s face, “Nothing ever does.”
She stops herself, though. Stops herself from speaking about the one thing she’s been contemplating for some time now. “I want to leave this world better than when I entered it.” She says instead, relaxing her once rigid stare in favor of turning back to the water. Already the semblance of her gift has conjured itself upon the surface, swirling lazily with rising speed as the Keeper tilts her head back once more for a brief adieu.
“Ischia is better, Beqanna seems quiet. I feel my goal has been achieved, Brennen.” The aging mare tells him, all the while a pliable grin takes shape over her mouth. “Take care of yourself - and Ischia, for that matter, if you love her as I already do. Not all of us can look so good at your age.” She winks, sliding ahead into the churning portal.
In the end, she’ll leave him without a trace. No footsteps to say where she’s going, only imprints on the soil of where she’s already come from.
Circinae
