The water churns tonight and the young girl does not quite know what to make of it. She is too small to understand the way that quick bursts of storm can ripple the edges of water. How it can stir the heart of it into a frenzy. She has no history to draw upon, save that which the water can tell her. She merely knows that there is a different energy to it tonight. Something slightly out of the ordinary, for the weather should be mild and sweet but it is not. It is chaotic and she feels it, that alienness of it that pushes against the edges of her mind—that tells her something is wrong and that she should not be here.
Except this water is hers. It is her.
How could she be anywhere else?
So she stays in her liquid form. She lets herself get tossed and turned by the water. She feels herself come undone on the atomic level until she feels like she can truly see to the core of herself—but, even then, she is not certain that she understands. Perhaps that is the curse of being young and trying to pick apart things that even the immortal have not discerned or perhaps that is simply the nature of being water.
Of being constant.
Of never staying still long enough to be one thing.
Whatever it is, when she finally rises as herself—a supernaturally beautiful young girl—onto the shore of the river, she is exhausted. It is raining and she can no longer pick apart where her body ends and the storm begins so she just tips her childish head back and lets the water flow down on her regardless.
@[Malik] - this time I remembered the right character