Anandi remembers in vivid detail her first cat. It was so very beautiful; sleek and spotted, with subtle stripes at the heel. Its sharp yellow eyes inquisitive and calculating, before the fire of life behind them was snuffed out. Anandi had cried as its bones broke between her teeth. Her muzzle still red from the kill, she mourned the loss of that beautiful life with a wail of grief.
For too long after her introduction to the surface, Anandi was haunted by her violent needs. She wept for her kills but did not stop-- could not stop-- (did not want to, not at her core.)
So Anandi became well acquainted with grief. It could become such a heavy thing. It slowed one down; muddied the mind, entangled the limbs. She grieved for every life she took, and she grieved for her family still down there in the darkness of the deep sea, and she grieved for herself and the principles she felt crumbling like ash.
And one day-- just a normal day, nothing remarkable about it-- when she rose from the ocean and stepped forward onto the sand, she shed her grief like an animal skin. It was a weakness she could not afford and a burden she was too tired to carry any further. She told herself it was for her sisters, whom she wanted to lead with certainty to this bright new world.
The kelpie princess did not allow herself to think of what she might have lost with her grief. onward. sharklike. if you do not swim you will drown. Now, if she could only shed her loneliness-- and she sensed she could, soon; she felt it growing and growing in her like a cancer and when it was big enough she would cut it down at the root and be all the stronger for it.
“I was born beneath the sea,” she says, a note of irritation pinching her words just slightly. Elena just had to ask, didn’t she? Anandi smiles demurely. “It was only a place of magic if you consider breathing underwater to be magical.” It was all relative. As a child, she considered walking on land, breathing air to be a kind of magic. She had no idea that equines flew until she saw it for herself.
“Oh yes,” she practically purrs. “Dusk was certainly the right choice for me. It’s just so lovely here.” She had chosen it for its access to the sea; Terrastella, of the four kingdoms, had the most coastline. But it quickly became clear that Dusk was a wise choice for other, strategic reasons. Her kohl-rimmed eyes are laughing at something she wouldn’t say out loud-- It was child’s play, securing a regime position. Terrastellans are so woefully lacking in ambition, nobody batted an eye at a foreigner being appointed their emissary.
Truth be told, it was a little boring, and a bored kelpie could be very, very dangerous.
“Beqanna,” she muses, bites into the apple, chews thoughtfully. It is crisp, and unusually juicy for this time of year. She is not fond of its overt sweetness. “Never heard of it.” It was not necessarily the end of the conversation, but the emissary is clearly ready to drop the topic for now. Valleys, beaches, mountains, forests, swamps… you see one, you see them all. It was people that interested her, culture, and she wanted Elena fed and rested before they dove into that. Anandi, once she began the questioning, was tireless and highly detailed. For that conversation they would need at least two bottles of wine and a much more comfortable place to lounge than the gardens-- Anandi preferred such conversations to be comfortable and giggly.
Her attention returns to the present, Elena standing soft and timid as a golden mouse. Anandi smiles, benevolent. “You must be tired. Come along, we’ll find you a place to stay.” The guest quarters in the court would suffice for now; they were quite comfortable, and close enough that Anandi could keep an eye on her new friend.
The kelpie leads the way with an overtly confident sway of the hips, as though she owned the place.
Very quick. Very intense,
like a wolf at a live heart.
@
some say the loving and the devouring are all the same thing
☾
