Nyxa
The water mare had come ashore Ischia sometime after dawn, but had been much too exhausted to do anything about it besides sleep. Coming back here had felt like coming home, in more ways than one, and time was beginning to add up in the form of extra weight around Nyxa’s ribs.
The change did little in the way of making her obviously pregnant. As her pale eyelids blink open and shift to take a look themselves, she even wonders if Hod will be able to feel the miniscule increase. If he couldn’t she would tell him … later, perhaps. Or in her own, special way - because she’s rather certain his reaction will be worth a bit of suspense. With the shuffle of her legs she works loose a few, stiff joints and then she’s off; making her way unencumbered past glossy elephant ear leaves and green swaths of moss-covered trunks.
It’s about the right time - the sun was close to what they’d agreed on, and she knew her day was right by the lunar cycles. Even when it seemed necessary for them to be apart, Nyxa enjoyed the fact that they’d dreamt under the same moon every night in anticipation of being together again.
It was why Hod had been so incessantly worried since she’d come back.
His brief explanation of the changes here in Ischia (that Krone no longer ruled, and that this island was a home for ‘brothers’) gave them reason to believe that Nyxa’s presence amongst the others wouldn’t be accepted - but this notion bothered her very little. Everything about her existence, aside from Hod, was tied to the ocean and these sparse yet beautiful patches of earth. Being landlocked could spell death for a Nereid, but living here amidst the coral and sharks she loved best would be nothing but beneficial for Ischia as a whole.
Brennen and his brothers would see that, she was sure.
“Hod, dear-” She calls out, merging onto a wide pathway where he was walking some feet ahead, “-there you are.” Nyxa grins, placing an eager kiss against his withers when she finally catches up. Against his grainy, smokey coat her buttercream color stands out, and while they plod evenly along she can’t help but bump a shoulder, or hip, against his just to make sure he’s real. “Do you think he’ll come?” She asks, while her evergreen forelock parts to reveal vibrant, purple eyes.
-I'm sailing right behind, like a bridge over troubled water-
@[Hod] @[Brennen]