J A H R A
the stars nodded, the ocean agreed
Though she turns her back to the tumultuous sea in search for what civilized hub the mainland may have to offer, the perpetual crash of waves against the shore calls to her. She keeps one ear tilted back towards the sea, soaking in what she can of the rhythmic sound for as long as she can ─ before she is far enough away for the white noise to fade, it's joined by a familiar rhythmic thud. Jahra turns her sea-colored head to peer over her shoulder, a sapphire blue eye meeting the frame of the tri-colored stranger just as the woman speaks.
Jahra halts and pivots on lanky, sand-coated legs to face the woman. She smiles, almost melancholy, and offers a nod that results in purple tendrils of mane falling around her trio of horns. “Yes,” the word falls from her lips hoarser than expected and Jahra clears her throat with a small, apologetic smile, “I've just arrived.” The common tongue feels foreign falling from her lips; years have come and gone since using it was a necessity ─ her family had always opted to use ancient Nordlysian, even after departing from their homeland, if only to feel closer to the community that existed no longer.
“My name is Jahra,” she tells the woman with twisted obsidian horns and expressive crimson eyes. There is a level of recognition that the finned woman experiences as she analyzes this stranger's open body language; her own would have been the same, had their roles been reversed.
She opens her mouth again, makes to ask after their whereabouts, when the sapphire-eyed woman spies the stallion for the first time. He is bright against the backdrop of the dark and foreboding ocean. His eyes glow, and they look upon the red-painted woman as if thirsty for a clean drink of water that will never come. She shifts her weight against the moist sand beneath her to better view the pair. “What is this place?” she asks, loud enough for them both to hear, as her perceptive gaze moves between the two ─
A kelpie, she suspects, and the unrequited.
Jahra halts and pivots on lanky, sand-coated legs to face the woman. She smiles, almost melancholy, and offers a nod that results in purple tendrils of mane falling around her trio of horns. “Yes,” the word falls from her lips hoarser than expected and Jahra clears her throat with a small, apologetic smile, “I've just arrived.” The common tongue feels foreign falling from her lips; years have come and gone since using it was a necessity ─ her family had always opted to use ancient Nordlysian, even after departing from their homeland, if only to feel closer to the community that existed no longer.
“My name is Jahra,” she tells the woman with twisted obsidian horns and expressive crimson eyes. There is a level of recognition that the finned woman experiences as she analyzes this stranger's open body language; her own would have been the same, had their roles been reversed.
She opens her mouth again, makes to ask after their whereabouts, when the sapphire-eyed woman spies the stallion for the first time. He is bright against the backdrop of the dark and foreboding ocean. His eyes glow, and they look upon the red-painted woman as if thirsty for a clean drink of water that will never come. She shifts her weight against the moist sand beneath her to better view the pair. “What is this place?” she asks, loud enough for them both to hear, as her perceptive gaze moves between the two ─
A kelpie, she suspects, and the unrequited.
