i need nothing to travel the sea
Her thoughts are initially a battle between predator and prey. The kelpie of her father tears into her throat of her mahogany mother (not unlike reality) behind the veil of her amber eyes. She is smaller than you; her flesh would be thin beneath your teeth. And yet a soft voice speaks, Is this really why you came here… To hunt those of your blood? Rivuline’s gaze narrows on the filly with the acuity of a shark scenting blood for just a moment, but her slender face softens as quickly as the hunger had appeared. There is still a serious color to her face; a stiffness lines her cheekbones and the edge of her jaw.
It cracks for just a moment to allow a husky laugh to pass through her lips. The winter air blossoms into a puff of smoke at the cusp of her nostrils, floating toward the kelpie filly’s face in the bitter wind. Before she has time to answer, a second stranger approaches (this one much more her own age and the predator whispers We can leave them, for now). “I… It’s my, um, my fin.” Rivuline knows she hasn’t spoken to anyone since she was a child —
a memory flashes like a firework: a rainy summer day spent nestled against her sister while palm fronds protected their young heads
— and the tune of her voice sounds as such. The turquoise tobiano shivers along with the filly as the winter wind presses firmly into their coats. She is not adept for the cold temperature; her coat has grown used to the constant warmth and movement the ocean has to offer. In an effort to conserve her body heat, the sailfish fin collapses, folding down to shield her spine from the bitterness of the cold. “I’m Rivuline.” The name sounds unfamiliar on her tongue, but she knows it’s her name. Just as she knows what sharks and corals and tides are, although the spoken language of the Earth is mostly unfamiliar to underwater ears. “Where are we? Is there any place warmer to go?”
@[Celina] @[Catcher]