-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
