Nyxa
She was nothing like a sea lion and he knew it. Those fat bullies lounged all day along the best stretches of beach and were thinning out the sleek, silver fish along Ischia’s shoreline. “I resent that…” tugged at her lips, but the words fell short as soon as his pale mouth caught hold of her vibrant mane. Hod had a way with himself that was unlike anyone else Nyxa had ever known. A gentler sort of manner; patient and yet, confident. It stilled her restless legs and eased her into a similar mood, there was no sense in jumping about while he readied himself. “Let’s head out.” He tells her, and the accompanying touch upon her shoulder stills whatever residual skepticism she might have been harboring.
This was Hod, after all. “Still no sign of Bragi?” She questions as they turn to leave. With every day that dawns and sets she knows that her companion has held out hope for his elder brother’s return. The pain he feels is one the seamare can empathize with. How often had she waited for Circinae’s return, or Canaan’s attention? To this day she’s still not seen her middle brother and now … now her entire family has seemed to vanish. This question is more often becoming a mantra, rather than a hopeful gesture.
“I’ve been looking for him, on my visits to the mainland.” Nyxa supplies, falling silent afterwards until only the sound of their hollow steps can be heard. Hod himself seems lost in thought and for a moment, it unnerves her again. “Am I nagging him?” She frets while one, newly spotted ear tilts lazily aside. “Why am I even worried about if I’m nagging him or not?” Follows suit. The brush of hardy salt growth against her fetlocks fades to nothing, instead it gives way to shifting sand and then, a springy, water-soaked sandbar. In the near horizon she can see the smaller island, but her worried eyes are flicking back to where Hod travels beside her.
He’s changed. It still amazes her just how much, though - and in such a brief time! One winter’s worth of thick coats and healthy forage and suddenly, he’s a stallion. It’s hard for her not to stare. They’re not of matching height (Nyxa still has time before her body will settle into its predestined design) and yet, he’s not grown overly tall. No; Hod has grown thick in the chest and haunches, the crest of his dark neck was full and artfully sculpted. Spanish blood, ancestors worth of good breeding.
She suddenly feels her age. Acutely.
“Do you ever think about going back to the Riverlands, to look for him?” She ponders aloud, all the while her mind is running wild with thoughts of how he must be growing tired of constantly being her babysitter. Certainly Hod was a man, was he not? (He was, oh he was) And certainly men had needs, did they not? She’d seen it herself - the result of such a thing growing round and full in her stepdam’s belly. With the bashful tilt of her head, Nyxa returns her attention to the small tidepools beneath them and the ripple of sand, trying hard to ignore the heat in her cheeks.
Wayward daughter of Canaan and Circinae
@[Hod] Nyxa has all of the feelings. All of them. Awkward pre-teen girl alert xD