He calls this ‘her’ land, and there is a flicker of confusion that passes over her face. Perhaps he calls it this because he is coming from the water and she is clearly a creature meant for solid ground, but she wouldn’t necessarily call this, or any part of Beqanna, ‘hers’. She thinks to correct him but for some reason she stops herself, deciding it was not worth the energy of explaining it. The longer she watches him—the way his legs don’t seem to have ever known land at all, or at least not for quite some time—has her second-guessing her original assumption that he even lived here at all.
This is further proven when he asks if this ‘place’ has a name, and by now she has forgotten most of her earlier worries and was instead losing herself to the curiosity she could feel bubbling inside of her chest. “We just refer to this area as the river. It doesn’t really have a more official name than that.” She pauses at the slow realization that perhaps that isn’t what he had meant, lifting her own eyes to the sky, and then to the mountains that jut against the horizon in the distance. “But as a whole, this land is called Beqanna.”
Her blue eyes survey him, doing her best to not appear as though she is staring although it’s clear she is taking some kind of inventory of him. She had assumed that magic, at least the kind that existed in Beqanna, was unique to only here. But looking at him he looked similar to all the other kelpies she had caught occasional glimpses of, though there was certainly something not quite right that she couldn’t place. “You aren’t from here?” she asks with an inquisitive tilt of her head, before adding with a small, somewhat guarded smile, “My name is Isaure.”
-- and i’ll lure you like a landslide and i’ll show you lovely things but they’re make believe
isaure.