Adria
I felt nothing at all, freedom of the fall
“Oh,” She starts, clenching the tawny brown plane of her forehead into despair, “oh but you mustn’t!”
How simple a thing for her to suggest. Adria is hardly to blame for her ignorance on the matter of life and death, and like an ignorant creature the despondent note of heartbreak in her response can hardly be mistaken. The nature of their conversation seems like a black and white matter. She categorizes all things good and right into the pale, and all things misshapen and wrong into the void. How could he seem so bent on snuffing out what she believes the greatest gift of all?
Discomfort slowly fades away from the corners of her lips, hardening into something like determination, and though he’s shivered away those phantom water limbs, the Nereid mare floats closer down the river. She feels righteous enough to demand an explanation, and chooses now to finally cast aside residual fear in favor of diplomacy. The maybe confuses her - if she left without opposing or doing her best to remedy his sadness, why … that’d make her no true explorer at all, would it?
“Unless you are in pain, yes?” The islander horse queries, incredibly sure of herself and her capability to solve puzzles. “A great pain with no healing. I’ve heard of such a thing before.” She says, her expression molting again to sadness. But then the possible injury or darkness inside of him is also fascinating and, with the flick of her lilac eyes, Adria glances again towards the stallion from across a few measured feet of water. A hundred questions well up in the bright sparkle of her gaze.
Perhaps he’s old. He certainly seems that way, hardly fleshed out in preparation for the oncoming winter and glaring at her behind lenses of pale, milky blue film. Had she interrupted a right of passage, then? Come between the planes of existence unknowingly?
Was she only prolonging the inevitable? “Damned if I am.” The seamare resolves quietly to herself, thinking, “more likely that we come together as fate would have it.” And that becomes her vocation instantaneously - to be the one lick of flame in someone else’s pitch black world. If he meant to kill himself, then she meant to stop it. There was nothing more he could do to convince her otherwise, now.
@[Jinn]