-Oh my love, don't forsake me; Take what the water gave me-
Circinae had been meaning to see her.
The new Keeper had been meaning to do a plethora of things, but the recent visit from Amet and Solace, coupled with her journey to Loess, had left her on stranger shores. Change came swiftly to Beqanna and when it did, it was always a struggle to not be swept into the current of danger. The last tsunami had been Taiga’s fall, an event that had left her disillusioned in her choice of a mentor and simultaneously invigorated by new tactics given to her by Gryffen.
Circinae had since then been a sharp believer in observation to gain understanding, and that (above all else) had been her guiding key to unlocking trust and admiration in others. Majority of those she had a chance to converse with ended up seeing reason above all else, even if it went against their personal standards. Most just needed someone to listen. The rest are cast in between. “Except Ivar.” The pied mare muses quietly to herself, thinking of the new Loessian face with a hint of irritation in her otherwise cluttered mind.
His attitude and her need to be one step ahead had driven her to the shoreline for contemplation, only she finds there’ll be no quiet brooding in store tonight. Not when the gurgle of a mangled bray strikes out against the peaceful solitude of Ischia’s starry backdrop. Stopping in her leisurely walk, Circinae shakes a darkly-framed head in loving mirth at the noise. She’d know it’s owner anywhere, in fact she finds it humorous simply because she knows no other equine would attempt such a call.
But that’s her Jah; always has been, always will be.
She goes from standing to flying, the navy banner of her mane and tail streaking behind her as she rolls unencumbered over the dunes. In some ways the feeling has her suspended in deja vu - all she had to do was close her eyes; then she’d be transported back to childhood, where the burning sands of her home were the ocean. Her mouth tilts skyward, freeing the low-hanging note of her kind in a drawn out ‘OOOOoooooo’ that will respond in likeness to the longing she can hear in her Flame-and-Spark’s heartsong.
Though they speak a different language, the meaning is never lost. Circinae crashes through the glowing waves, driven by the ardor of seeing the silver outline of her lover illuminated with a heavenly glow. She won’t stop until she’s come alongside the sitting mare, until she casts a jaded neck into the tangle of a red one and fills her senses with the acrid smoke of her holy wytch. “I'm here, my Heart.” She murmurs, slogging through the shallow sandbar to press a fiery kiss to Jah’s waiting cheek.
Circinae
@[Jah-Lilah]