[AW] i like myself (most of the time)

[Ismene]

to be upside down is a fine way to be Pale seafoam lifted her aloft on its strong, warm back. Ismene was too scatter-brained and terrified to question the sudden presence beneath her. She was only grateful, grateful, grateful. Maybe she had been ready to throw her life away, but the sea had said no, or rather, not today. Once she was borne upon the ocean's - Aeranas' - back, she tried to make herself as small and lift as possible. The water helped to buoy her heavy, oceanlogged wings until his much taller frame dragged her back into the cold air. She had been here before, carried safely on a back. The memory of her father made her heart clench as if a fist had grabbed it tightly and tried to wring it of all warmth. This would have made him so terribly sad.  Ismene cried, her salty tears mixing soundlessly with the briny water that soaked her through. Perhaps he could feel her wracking sobs as he brought her to the shore but she did not make a sound. Once they had arrived safely on the sand, Izzie wriggled off of his back and to the shore. She stumbled like a newborn. Her legs were rubbery and unfamiliar, chilled through to the bone. As she struggled to get back to her hooves, she craned her head back to take a look at him. Her split mane was wet and half-covered her eyes, but her first impression was: tall. So tall. From the ground she had to crane her neck in such a way that her muscles began to complain just to get a good look at him. Slowly she floundered to her feet, casting cold sand every which way as her wings righted themselves. Once she was standing tall the very tips of her ears were just about even with her withers. "Thank you," she coughed, seawater dribbling out of her mouth. Disgusting. Izzie turned away, hacking a deep cough. There was an itch in her throat that she couldn't quite clear. It was probably just residual panic. "I'm sorry," she added, the platitude small and pointless on her lips. Sorry for what? She wasn't sure, but it felt good to say, like scratching a not-quite healed wound. Equal parts pain and necessity. "I'm Ismene," she mumbled, trudging further from the ocean both to put distance between herself and the beast that had swallowed her and to collect her things. With some difficulty, she nosed her satchel over her head. It felt better to have it on. The weight was familiar. "And... and thank you," Izzie sputtered again, unsure what else there was to say. Thank you, you've seen me at my very most stupid and vulnerable. We are now indelibly linked. You will probably ask uncomfortable questions, or worse, chastise me. Her eyes were screwed up, stinging from salt. There had to be somewhere they could retreat out of the cold and wind. The coastline was dotted with coves and caves, but she stood there lamely, peering up at him with curiosity. He must be kind, to brave the bracingly cold water. She liked kind.