-Oh my love, don't forsake me; Take what the water gave me-

She’d been given a breath of time to collect herself and her family - only a breath - before necessity demanded that she rip that time once more. It was for the good of her people that she was leaving the comfort of her gold and ruby lifesblood, or at least that was what she told herself. The good of her people and the safety of her own sons, perhaps even the future safety of another child yet to come … but that unspoken wish was still tucked close to her heart, tethered somewhere in the dark recesses of her gut where she, as of this moment, still couldn't be quite sure that life had sprung from the reunion Canaan had showered her with.

Circinae can only squeeze her lids together with hope and mouth a silent prayer for luck that her questions might be answered soon. Time, the ultimate ruler of her life, could only tell. When she blinks softly into reality once more, dawn is beginning to peek over the tumultuous crown of black trees and the twisting River is curving away from her, throwing only the mock of her reflection back when she peers down. She smiles.

The loop of her teleporting gate opens up hungrily for her. They’ve grown so attached to one another, Circi and her gift, that she almost is beginning to feel a sort of attachment to the singular power. What had begun as an intense fear (she still remembers the sickness from vertigo when tripping between doors) had now transformed into gaiety each time she summoned the portal, like mortal enemies ironically stumbling into love. The one she calls on now distorts her face, pulls it apart and rends the rest of her mirror body with it until another terrain can be seen. She steps confidently through.

Imagine someone holding a hula-hoop while a second party maneuvers through the center and this is how close you come to her ability, in laymen terms. When her hoof touches earth she can tell that it’s silt: a fine mixture of sand, clay, and debris. Hyaline’s lakebed grips each step she takes towards the shore while her gate closes softly around her, soaking chest and rib alike as she trudges up the sloping incline. Finally, dragging her hind end free with a satisfying plop the little pony mare comes to stand with an impressive view of the crystalline water while she gathers her breath and wits.

The call she sends is lilting and airy - the horse it comes from is anything but.

Circinae

-Oh my love, don't forsake me; Take what the water gave me-

It’s a godsend when circumstances align themselves with personal interests. Circinae, turning abruptly to face the pleasant rumble of Amet’s greeting, finds that two things immediately strike her in the moment: One is Amet’s appearance. Gilded scales overlap each other to cover every inch of what should be fur, and it gives him a hardened, reptilian mien that would normally be off-putting were it not for the smile brightening an otherwise open, calm face. Opposing elements (the hardness and softness to him) oftentimes find harmony when brought together and Amet, though she does not know him personally yet, balances them both well.

The second thing to strike her is his knowledge of her pet name. “I see you’ve met my lightning girl.” She chuckles with sudden ease. The action softens her earlier startle, soothes out the mistrusting glint to her baby blue eyes and has her shifting to settle into a more permanent, comfortable position. “In regular company I go by Circinae.” The pony-mare explains lightly, though her curiosity perks with the mention of the red wytch. “Has Jah-Lilah been here recently?” She asks, unable to keep her gaze from darting around him while he speaks; to the wall of mountains and beyond Hyaline steals her breath and attention. Perhaps Jah was out there still …

“Sorry.” She blurts once she realizes that her actions might have been too evident. It was her last wish to have the stallion feeling ignored, or as if Circinae meant to brush him off. “I owe you a short explanation - especially since I seem to have brought myself well within your borders. I’m searching for a stallion called Amet, he rules here? If you know him, perhaps you could take me to him?” The woman explains with a flurry of words. There’s an urgency about her air, something pressing that seems to leave her restless even as she stands stock still. Patience, of course, has never been her strong suit but diplomacy comes as naturally as living, so the agitated shifter inhales slowly and tries (without much success) to suppress a grin.

Circinae

-Oh my love, don't forsake me; Take what the water gave me-

“We’re a rather busy group, my family and I.” The Shifter concludes once Amet has spoken his peace. Between everything that had occurred since Taiga’s downfall and now, Circinae might even be inclined to add, almost too busy to her statement. But she doesn’t. Instead, what she does say is, “However, we seem to be in the right places at exactly the right time.”

And that is the truest statement she could have uttered.

“King Amet,” She begins again, now that proper name has come to settle on his shoulders. “Since I dragged my eldest son through a tidal wave and watched Jah-Lilah nearly die, I’ve thought of nothing besides how I could prevent that from happening again.” The mare relates. The memories came unbidden - earth broken by the hands of a God, demons loosed upon her own kind, Corvus in the moment before she transported him - they assault her without leniency, give every soft corner a new shadow along her face where the maturity of her seven years is beginning to show. “I have seen things, living here - in Beqanna, that would drive a mother to consider killing her own child, if only to keep him from living in a world so horribly twisted.”

“And yet,” She smiles, none too eager to avoid that crippling darkness which seemed to haunt her on colder, lonelier nights, “here I stand; more than likely pregnant myself with a family and few stragglers who look to me for guidance.” She ends, incredulous that her journey had led her here, with so many to fill a life once devoid of connection. “I’m sure you know plenty about that yourself, though, your grace.” The little mare laughs, remembering all too well how the title had irked Gryffen. With Amet, the tone is less scathing and even bordering reverent respect. “If the shoe fits …” She ponders.

The tenor of Hyaline’s lapping shore soothes her; Circinae has never been so close to the water aside from her hidden den in Taiga and even then, the briny sea was never a favorite gateway. Accompanied by the late winter songs of birds scattered through the picturesque landscape, Hyaline is making quite the impression. “We - my family and I - need somewhere permanent. Others would use us; welcome us in as refugees only to demand activity and loyalty. Some would turn us away for the company we keep. But you,” She pauses, finding that austerity has overcome her features in this rare encounter, “you have kept attention and focus on your own people and that is why I find myself here today.”

He is a King, in his own right, so Circinae will give to him what she has never given to another. She bows, curves her navy-veiled neck and tucks her head close to her chest, and offers a request: “Let me bring my people here and fill your Kingdom to overflowing, save us from destitution,” She says, head rising so that her crystalline eyes might relay the passion in her voice, “and Hyaline will know a peace like she has never known. Those who could destroy it, would tremble to threaten it.”

Circinae