All she knew, really knew, with the senses, of Solterra was given to her tied together with a humble string of twine. Jade-leafed sage, desert rosemary, soft-petaled orange poppy. The gift was beautiful and treasured and a world of scent: dust and sunlight, dry heat and liquid gold. Most importantly it was given by young Apolonia, who had wedged herself in the fence around the kelpie’s fickle heart with the persistency of a scallop knife.
This is all to say it was not the king who brought Anandi here. He was almost an afterthought at this point, her quest for her sister’s future husband and king almost completely forgotten amidst the many thrills this new world had to offer her. Meeting this new sovereign, judging him, and potentially seducing him to the deep sea were now menial tasks on a to do list that bored her to no end.
To be frank, she had low expectations for the current sovereign of Solterra. First of all, he was not born into his station. This was the norm above the surface, to Anandi’s great shock and disappointment. Secondly, there was (so far) little talk of him in Dusk Court, where she had taken up residence, except for the occasional wary comment on Solterran politics in general. No mention of his beauty, or tact, or kindness. On the other hand, no mention of his ugliness, stupidity, or cruelty– but Anandi was not a half-glass full kind of woman.
She had to at least try, and so here she is, making the effort, and if she had time to bump into Apolonia while she was at it, well… perhaps this voyage to Solterra would be worth it. The annoying thing is: kings were tricky to entrap. Anandi could not just stumble into him in the marketplace (so… basic. Pedestrian.) and requesting a meeting just reeked of ulterior motives.
No, he would have to come to her.
When dusk falls, Anandi walks from the sea, dripping water that gleams tarnished violet in the setting sun. The air is dry, like nothing she’s ever had in her lungs before. It speaks of leagues and leagues of sun-beaten sand, rushing (as all good things do) to the sea. She hates it. With a sigh, she settles gracefully on the sandy beach, lowering to her belly and tucking her legs into her body like a doe. Like something innocent. Breakable, even. She has tactfully chosen a spot in sight of the high towers of the citadel– someplace she would expect a king to look out the window one evening only to spy, to his great delight and keen interest, a beautiful woman looking mournfully at the sea.
It may take time, but eventually he would come to her. She would return every evening at dusk until he did.
A N A N D I
@Orestes I wanted to leave it open if he approaches her the first time she comes to shore or not. I'm fine with anything <3
some say the loving and the devouring are all the same thing
☾
