Adria
I felt nothing at all, freedom of the fall
“Familiar.” The water-horse contemplates once the other mare explains. From her mild understanding of ancient magics, she thinks of the wildcat’s existence similar to a reflection of the antlered woman’s soul. A physical manifestation of sorts, linked and bonded unlike her own mother’s gift for gab in an unknown language. Glancing longways at the bronze creature close to the Hyaline mare’s heel, Adria takes into consideration that such an animal was what magic had chosen to represent the other horse. Another fleeting look at the ragged scar (obvious now from their proximity to one another) crossing the dame’s face confirms her suspicions: this was no soft adventurer like herself.
“I see.” The nereid confirms, though she only partially does. Mention of the word “alliance” and the way it seems to swell as a rosy grin on the horned lady’s face mean very little to nothing at all. Adria had lived a life at sea, detached from the ongoings of Beqanna and only weakly tethered to Ischia itself by necessity. Her parents had been staunch about building a wall between their family and the rest of the world, however determined Adria was now to break it. “And thank you, Caretaker. Hyaline is -” She stops, both ears swiveling to reach behind and discern a sound.
Another approaches.
She moves as a liquid being, one hind leg reaching to shift her body. A single action that follows throughout her form, a line of motion that twists her in a balletic angle so that her hips sway and trail a russet train of hair in their wake. At the same time her face tilts, every aesthetically pleasing line hinting to what immeasurable artistry her figure would soon grow into despite the fact that she’s merely angling for a better look at him. Beauty for her was both curse and blessing, given that it was an unavoidable side effect from her powers. It had turned her mother into a recluse and that same fear had been nurtured inside of Adria.
The additive of a male makes her … visibly nervous.
“Yes, hello.” The seamare murmurs, avoiding the newcomer’s eye when his advancement forces a need for her to speak. Her mouth feels dry and her tongue awkward, but Adria manages to hold onto Kagerus’ question and finds distraction in forming a reply. “I left my home to discover Beqanna.” The lake-dweller admits, “If I could continue this, my travels, while claiming your Hyaline as my own …” She ponders in her soft accent, “It would be a dream, aye.”
@[Kagerus] @[litotes] I'm an idiot Sid. The first three letters of assume.