08-30-2021, 02:41 PM
with rushing thread of brazen spindles.
She is received with kindness and the relief that surges through her is so potent that the twin lines between her eyes begin to glow from the fondness that gathers in her chest for this finned filly.
Moira, she says, and Neuna smiles, filing the name away.
And she is beckoned closer by the young mare’s siren song, moving toward the edge of the pool as if it is a decision she has made for herself.
(How inviting the water looks in this light, she thinks, cool in the heat leftover from the fading summer. She is unaware that these thoughts are not her own, unaware that they have been influenced by the song. But even if she had been aware of the young mare’s pull, she likely would not have minded. What a wonderful magic this is!)
Alas, she stops just short of stepping into the pool when Moira speaks again. And how Neuna smiles. Because she has finally settled into life in Ischia. She never thought of herself as a thing of the water, but she has adapted to the sand and the surf just as her sisters have. She still misses her father fiercely, but she no longer dreams of returning to Pangea to find him.
“I’m good!” she answers and finds that she means it. Really, truly, and she is so grateful for this, too. “How are you?” she asks, thinking this must be the polite thing to do.
She had not come to swim. Or, at least, she doesn’t think she had. But she’s looking at the pool now and the water seems to call to her, beckoning. She had crashed through the surf with her sisters, laughing, free, when they were young. But she doesn’t think that was the same as swimming.
She glances up from the water then, meeting Moira’s eye with an apprehensive grin. “I don’t know if I know how to swim,” she confesses, heat pooling in her cheeks.
Moira, she says, and Neuna smiles, filing the name away.
And she is beckoned closer by the young mare’s siren song, moving toward the edge of the pool as if it is a decision she has made for herself.
(How inviting the water looks in this light, she thinks, cool in the heat leftover from the fading summer. She is unaware that these thoughts are not her own, unaware that they have been influenced by the song. But even if she had been aware of the young mare’s pull, she likely would not have minded. What a wonderful magic this is!)
Alas, she stops just short of stepping into the pool when Moira speaks again. And how Neuna smiles. Because she has finally settled into life in Ischia. She never thought of herself as a thing of the water, but she has adapted to the sand and the surf just as her sisters have. She still misses her father fiercely, but she no longer dreams of returning to Pangea to find him.
“I’m good!” she answers and finds that she means it. Really, truly, and she is so grateful for this, too. “How are you?” she asks, thinking this must be the polite thing to do.
She had not come to swim. Or, at least, she doesn’t think she had. But she’s looking at the pool now and the water seems to call to her, beckoning. She had crashed through the surf with her sisters, laughing, free, when they were young. But she doesn’t think that was the same as swimming.
She glances up from the water then, meeting Moira’s eye with an apprehensive grin. “I don’t know if I know how to swim,” she confesses, heat pooling in her cheeks.
@Moira