The change came immediately after Galadriel awoke from the Gods' quest. Her eyes shuttered, rapid-fire and panicked, paired with shallow breathing and anxious nausea. Suddenly, the blue of her coat held all new meaning: she was to water as the earth was to the sun.
She lurched forward then, spun out and exhausted, blinded by an instinct she could not understand. Her vision tunneled to pinpricks, her ears rang, her legs twitched even as she tried to abate them with a reckless gallop. What was the last thing she remembered before being whisked away to that beach? Had it been a day? Had it been years? Did the magic keep her sleeping for longer than she needed to?
It would make sense, wouldn't it? Such a transformation takes time. She wondered what she had left behind and realized nothing--
Save for a wobbly, scaled girl. The memory of her first and only daughter manages to give Rel pause; but not enough of a pause, merely just a stumble in her gallop, for she has always been selfish and careless. She was never going to be a good mother anyway, is what she tells herself. The child surely found what she needed elsewhere, she thinks. (But did Rel ever find what she needed elsewhere? a thought nagging at the back of her mind. No, she did not; but that didn't matter like it might have when she was a child.
What mattered were the cliff faces of the Nerine, the salt spray of the ocean, the sound of waves crashing dangerously against rocks.)
It's there that she stops, chest heaving upon a beach. She might find it ironic if her skin was not crawling with the need to bury herself in the waves. Above her, Autumn storm clouds roll, foretelling of a dangerous ocean. She doesn't care, no--Rel rarely does. She splashes into the frothing gray water, stopping at knee deep and shivering..
@Reave this is really bad bc i was desperate to get something out of my brain plz bear with me