Moira has lost her mother and sister in the ice maze.
She emerges - her breath making quick puffs in the crisp summer air - and snorts gleefully. Kicking up her finned heels for a moment, Moira enjoys the sensation of freedom. She had extra promised to stick close to Aquaria in the maze, but at the seventh possible opportunity (she needed to make sure Mom had let her guard down), the grulla filly had ducked to the left rather than the right, taking advantage of two sharp turn and the distance that she had slowly allowed to grow between herself and her family.
The Midsummer Festival has been idealized by the young nereid ever since they’d first received the invitation. Eager for adventure, Moira had started pleading before her mother had even indicated an answer of her own, and she had been elated to arrive. Their swim had not been terribly long, and the girl has plenty of energy left.
She looks in every direction, trying to decide where to head first. Being almost a year and a half-old, Moira thinks she might be big enough to win some of the Highland Games occurring, so she heads toward them, the long fins of her mane and tail bright and glittering beneath the sun, a clear indication of her nereid heritage (as if the almost-eerie beauty, scales, and her physical similarity to her mother were not enough).
Once there, she decides that perhaps she’s not grown after all, and contents herself to watch a trio of stallions and a pale mare competing against each other for a while. Then she grows bored (a common occurrence, for her love of adventure is so expansive it leaves little room for a long attention span), and begins to wander toward the flaming tree that she’s heard some of the other horses talking about, stopping only when something catches her attention.
It's hot out, or at least for Oren that seems to be the thing. It is summer, after all, and his dark body soaks in the sunlight quickly. That's his main excuse for venturing further north towards the blue tree, even though it's mostly because Nashua is meeting with some of his family on his father's side, and the bay roan colt doesn't feel like barging into the group. He's an outsider there, he thinks; even when one on one, Nash and Yan are most definitely his brothers. The fact is that they're half siblings and he can't always tag along.
He thinks he's rather too old for the icy maze, though Rosey has repeatedly told him that he's not. Nevertheless, when it comes to the fair, he's done his share of tracking through the forest by now, and felt much better with the idea of trekking through the eternal snow to run around the cold flaming tree than with mingling with the gatherings in the southern meadows.
His face lights up when he spots a pretty looking filly, marked with gold and blue on a dark, grulla coat. But the most curious thing about her are the fins, where there would normally be mane and tail - a touch of the water, where his own hooves and neck are touched by ice instead. Oren quickens his pace into a trot, and nickers a greeting towards her. "Hi! Are you going to join the dance?" His blue eyes sparkle curiously when he takes her in, then realizes that he hasn't actually said his name, so he adds it. "I'm Oren, by the way." he chuckles a little.
@[Moira]
Moira has known two summers, and this one is by every account better than her first. Born into darkness, the return of the sun has also marked that real start of her own life. She is eager to experience all that this sunlit world has to offer, so at the sound of hooves, the grulla filly turns her green eyes toward the source curiously.
It is a colt, his coloring reminding her of the bark of a tree or the husk of a coconut. He’s not like any horse she’s seen up close before, and as he comes closer she smiles, sure that hhe’s coming to talk to her, because a quick chirp from the bird that lands on her back confirms that she is the only one around.
“I am!” she replies, her voice as clear and sharp as the kingfisher’s. It is a voice that sounds much nicer underwater, but she has been practicing since the invitation and at least it is no longer terribly grating to those above the surface.
“I mean, I think I am, if that is where you are going. You look like you are from here” - she gestures with her dark muzzle to the ice that glitters all across him - “So you must know where all the best fun is to be had.” Moira beams at him, a sweet naiad smile and a little something more, and doesn’t even notice that there’s been a pause in their conversation before he introduces herself.
“I’m Moira. We came here from Ischia.”
@[Oren]
Oren has seen one summer before the darkness settled in, but he doesn’t remember much about it. He was young then, and hadn’t known he needed to remember everything because nobody had expected that darkness, not at all. Perhaps his mother’s friend had - the one she later said had predicted this, seen the darkness. Someone in Tephra, he believes, but he hadn’t actually listened to those details (in fact he shouldn’t have heard her whispers in the dark to his dad, and he very well knew he should stay hidden as they walked out of hearing range).
The filly’s voice sounds sharp and quick, but it’s refreshing in a way. All these soft-spoken horses in Taiga, well, they knew how sound carried through the mists and through the open plains of the Isle. Nerine was supposedly different, with the wind battering everyone’s ears, so maybe... ah,present, Oren! He perks his ears as she mentions Ischia. ”I’ve never been there. I think it’s the farthest away from here? Is everything super colorful in your home?” he is prompted to reply, and then his bright eyes get stuck a little on her smile, until he remembers they were having a conversation and he chuckles, shaking his mane to rearrange them on the tangles of his icy spikes. ”Taiga actually. But dad has given me and Rosey lots of icy add-ons, I think.”
At that, he muses a little and then tilts his head at her. ”Do you think it’ll melt if I visit Ischia?” It for sure would make walking a lot harder, he thinks. Would it be bad if he tried? ”Won’t you freeze if you stay here for long?” She must be cold, right? Oren never felt cold himself, but for a tropical girl like her, well... ”Best keep moving?” he suggests then, prancing in place once to prove the point.
That dance isn’t such a bad idea after all, he thinks.
@[Moira] sorry for taking so long <3
He tells her that he’s never been to Ischia and then asks her about it. Moira nods in answer to both of Oren’s questions about her home, giggling at the way he stares. Her mother had warned her about this, about how she and her sister would draw attentive eyes from those who are not familiar with nereids, and quite likely even those who are.
It feels very flattering, and she tucks away the memory of his dazed blue eyes and handsome gold blaze, the very first time she’s been admired. Her mother had also been clear about how to dissuade the interest she would draw, but Moira pointedly doesn’t follow any of her advice.
@[Oren] tells her that he is from Taiga, and Moira’s gold tipped ears prick curiously. That is where her father was from too. Rosey must be a sibling, she thinks, and their father some sort of ice creature. That explains the glitter to his skin and spikes, and she shrugs at his question about melting. Only one way to find out, she supposes.
“I’m more likely to dry out,” she replies to his query about the dangers of her freezing. Moira is mostly teasing, though she’s not entirely sure that’s impossible. She is sure that she won’t truly freeze, but the grey filly does appreciate the abundant energy in Oren’s step as he prances in place. He is not nearly aquatic enough for her to love, Moira knows, but he is still very handsome, and there is nothing wrong in a little summer flirting.
She joins him in movement, stepping forward and then sidestepping away across the wide path. Her body still feels a little strange on land, and perhaps that shows in her oft-wobbling movements, but she is enthusiastic in her prancing about and staying warm.
“So where is this dance, anyway?” She asks when they have passed the first few trees that mark the edges of the forest. Moira has slowed, and the breath that she now catches makes large clouds of steam in the air around them. She should probably find her mother there, Moira knows, so she slows a little, and pauses to poke curiously at a frozen patch of snow.
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