-Adria-
What she’d done was for the future. Ischia belonged to those who would fight for it, not those who dreamt of a family and quiet hours by the sea. When Vulgaris had come, Adria had seen Larke and known that this place was for her - not her father, King he might be. She had felt a little trepidation about stepping out into the shallows, leaving her island behind and Sande with her father, but had known that in the end this place would do well in the hands of Eva and Aquaria.
She’d expected things to go fine, which is why she hadn’t left the outer depths entirely just yet.
Only fools believed in fairytales.
Her golden-yellow eyes flashed open underwater, and for the first time in many months Adria surfaced to stride up on the shore of what had once been her herdland. She felt the heat from the jungle as it misted over her still-scaly hide, and heard the rising temperature of the conversation when first Aquaria, then Vulgaris stepped in. Especially that laugh.
That laugh did not sit well in her thoughts as the coral-pink nereid glided out into their small gathering. “Tèlman fache!” She smiled and tsk’d, warmed at the sight of her daughter and sister alongside those children of Tephra’s new King. “Treat Larke like a woman grown. Not a puppet.” Adria seemed sad, concerned for the wellbeing of a possible leader who could not think or act for herself. “And a herd cannot subsist on puppets either, mwen ta panse.”
Her steps, casual and nearly silent as they drew Adria close between one pale seahorse and the other purple one, stopped when all three grouped together.
“You keep Ischia a herd? That seems well. Both Eva and Aquaria have rights then; to challenge your daughters leadership on the field of their choosing - and if it were my choice,” The water-mare paused, ears flicking back, “not someone else’s - specifically I would choose this land. If Larke is willing to fight for what she wants, and if she is the ruler you claim her to be, then she should not fear facing one of us in our home.”
To stand united is to earn the respect of ones allies, not demand it.
Oh my love, don't forsake me; Take what the water gave me
