She tastes blood in the water, spilling crimson and iron-sharp across her tongue, and for a moment the instinct to latch on and drag her prey beneath the waves nearly wins out -- except that this is not a deer, and she doubts that the silver queen would come to visit her if she should drag one of her people beneath the waters of the Oasis…. No matter how many bones rested in the sandy bottom, from reigns long before Seraphina’s. She releases her grip and her fins flare outwards, shoving the hippocampus back and away from any retribution yet to come -- deep enough a normal horse would strain to touch, she treads water and stares at the intruder through bright blue eyes, the other two sets closed firmly against the glaring sun above. “I did,” She confirms, although there is no remorse in her voice, no sense of contrition in her bones. She has spent long enough apologizing for what she is -- too close to feral for comfort as a child, too easily made into a weapon, and Efphion’s confusion is a familiar sight. “I am…. Cursed. I used to soar with the wings of a dragon. Now I'm trapped here.” |
@Efphion
