"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
now and then there's a light in the darkness; feel around 'til you find where your heart went.
The bleak rays of sunlight begin to peek over the horizon and slice through the quiet, frozen clutches of dusk, as the frost covering the dried brush and soil glisten brightly beneath. The minuscule ice crystals shimmer and dance in the morning light, illuminating the ground with its wonder. It is only a matter of time until they begin to melt away under the hot scrutiny of the sun, leaving dew drops lingering on the thriving grasses and brush that cling on to what little semblance of life is left. The air is crisp, frigid - a gentle gust of wind caresses the hardened line of his chest as he rouses from the warm embrace of his own slumber, his bleary and tired eyes observing the bright, empty sky.
A small cloud of carbon dioxide lingers after each warm breath as his weary bones shift uncomfortably beneath the cartilage and muscle wound so tightly around them. A long sigh emerges from his aching lungs as a gentle shake of the hollowed bones of his wings loosens up the light layer of snow that had blanketed his dark, preened feathers over the course of a moonless night. His heart is heavy, and his mind is once again weighed down with the burden of unspoken words and unrequited amity. The image of one of his closest friends (Exist - the one his heart so often yearned for in his youth, of the one he aches for even now) swollen and gravid with child that is not his own is not easily tucked away within his memory, and the same familiar despondency settles within the barren hollow of his heart.
His lamenting is brought to a startling halt as movement catches his wandering eye, the ridge of his brow line furrowed for a moment as he attempts to unsettle the heavy haze still wound around his tired mind (he does not at all favor morning, even in its resplendence). The figure - four-legged and low to the ground – recedes into the thick line of dry, brittle oak and pine, vanishing into the shadows left untouched by daylight. Anxious to find a distraction and to bury the uneasiness in his chest, his long, slender limbs carry him into the thick of the forest as the parched bark scrapes against his golden skin, his hazel searching for the source of movement.
It is fleeting, weaving around dense thickets and tucking itself away within tight crevices, and his eyes struggle to see through the untouched darkness, his lungs breathless from maintaining the rapid pace in such icy, glacial temperatures. At last, there is a break within the woodland, and his bright, gold-flecked eyes are met with the sudden, uncomfortably glaring light of an open clearing. Grimacing and left momentarily blinded, a long moment passes unceremoniously as his eyes adjust, and a heavy wave of disappointment settles into his chest. It was gone; a shadow dissipating in the light of day.
With a soft grunt of disdain, he turns back towards the dense line of foliage when something catches his eye again – and now, his heart leaps, pitter-pattering as his hazel eyes take in the familiar sight of a feminine figure in brilliant emerald and dark sapphire, and a slight grin tugs at the corner of his dark mouth. Lingering by a rapidly moving river, flush with fresh, icy mountain water, she is a sight for sore eyes – and the light, airiness of his head is a decidedly pleasant distraction.
”Circinae,” he says, his voice rough and ragged with sleep, a carefree smile on his whiskered lips. ”so we meet again. I hope that I am not interrupting anything.”
Canaan
there's a weight in the air but you can't see why
@[Circinae] - either he saw a random animal and happened to run into her, or he saw Circy in wolf form (I'm not sure how much control she yet has over her shifting, but I wanted to get this post up - either way, he's oblivious. c:
It doesn’t irritate her that he’s been filling her thoughts as of late. That golden creature, so free from the earth and her chains, above them all … watching as they crawl and bicker and breed. She sighs, the slender tips of her khaki-colored toes splaying open to scratch at the dirt of her home while she flippantly rolls onto her back. Ruan was out. Fixing his own life, she’s sure, but hopefully with her in his thoughts, so she chooses instead to try and make something of the endless time she has on hand. The winter is still bitter, less of a bitch though, and the warmth of her healthy coat dissuades it from reaching her skin or organs. “Anytime…” The winged stallion's voice echoes in her mind, drawing her back into herself for a moment of contemplation.
“Enough moping.” The she-wolf concludes, pushing her midnight companion from her mind before slinking off to find the promise of a new adventure. She can only push her nose to the ground, ruffle through underbrush and then snort, withdrawing from the soil to point the mahogany appendage skywards in hopes to catch some semblance of that flying beast. Luck is what draws a smile over her teeth; a bare, glinting grin as the recognition that Canaan is nearby overcomes her. Feeling half-shadow herself she slips away, darting easily beneath bush, limb, or rock as her path winds ever outward from her packland. She only pauses at the riverbank, motionless body poised mid-step while her nose quivers to find him once more. “Got you.” the thought sparks inwardly, before she leaps like some curious fox into the rushing waters.
He coat soaks up every bit of liquid it can, but it doesn’t hinder her in the least as she scrambles onto the opposite bank to shake free from the river’s grasp. A shudder of her coat, flick of the tail, and she’s off again to dance beneath the spattering of mild sunlight. It’s only when she glides underneath the protection of an overgrown holly, glowing eyes narrowing while she watches him with piqued curiosity, that she stops to catch her breath. He seems troubled, but then again they all are, these strange men in her life. A smirk and she weaves easily away, flicking one ear behind to listen as he puts up chase. They go a few rounds before she loses him with intent, leaving him to glimmer in the brilliance of the clearing while she shifts to a skin he’ll recognize.
“My name never sounds as sweet until you say it.” The bi-colored mare laughs prettily, tail swaying once before striking like a whip at her ribs. “And you can interrupt me whenever it pleases you, Canaan.” She finishes. This time she feels no pressure to be shy, no reason not to close the distance between them in order to press her lips fondly to his upturned cheek before saying, “I needed a distraction anyways. About that adventure we talked of …” she tempts, backing away to entice him with an untamed grin, “... care to take me up on the offer?” Her eyes are wide with innocent pleading, desperate to have a change of pace for once.
“You don’t even have to tell me where we’re going.” She adds, hoping to appeal to his better nature with the urgency of her desire to be anywhere else with him. “I like surprises.” She murmurs while her mind begins to grow wings of its own.
Circinae
I need the crack of a whip, I need some blood in the cut
now and then there's a light in the darkness; feel around 'til you find where your heart went.
She is grace; intricately pieced together with delicate tendrils of stardust and moonlight – and when her vivid eyes bore into his own, and he is altogether breathless. The air catches in his throat, and when her soft, whiskered mouth presses against the hardened line of his cheek, his heart nearly seizes against the iron cage that envelopes it. Her touch is brief, fleeting – but long after it is drawn away, he can still feel the ghost of her breath and the warmth of her mouth against his pallid skin.
A low, rumbling chuckle emerges from the tight confines of his throat, strained as his lips gently brush against her jaw, tasting the sweet, arid sunlight of her skin – and a stirring arises within the pit of his stomach that leaves him wanting, craving for more. The blood within his veins has already begun to simmer – the moment her soft, crooning voice had spoken to him on that summer eve, the fire had been set and the flame had begun to flicker. Ignited now by the coyness of her bright, icy gaze and the faint, impish smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, he is entirely inebriated by her presence, and the slow, carefree smile he wears is too telling.
”Circinae,” he muses, allowing the syllables to settle on his tongue. She is breathtaking, and it is not her physical presence alone that he is taken with. Her laughter, her searing eyes, her prying humor – and now, she is just out of his reach, and he is left desiring more – and the longing builds slowly beneath the surface, leaving his nerve endings alight with insatiable fervor. ”Circinae, have you ever been told that you are a tease?” He murmurs, touching his mouth to her neck, idly traveling the length of it until his teeth trace along her withers, a brushing of faint, nearly imperceptible kisses left in a trail along the ridges of her spine.
The dark, finely preened feathers of his wings brush against her rib cage as he encircles her, teeth drawn back in a blithe grin when he is shoulder to shoulder once again. ”Because you are.”
That adventure we talked of, she utters, and he is already envisioning the roaring waterfall tucked within the thicket, surrounded by pillars of mottled, andesite and lush, vibrant greenery – an oasis hidden away from prying eyes. His heart is pounding again beneath his breast, and for a moment, a flicker of concern emerges (he can only hope that she cannot hear it, thump, thump, thump, inside of his broad chest), but it soon wanes.
You don’t even have to tell me where we’re going, and he can hardly contain his laughter. So coy, and yet, there was nothing coy about her. Her voice lowers an octave, and the mere reverberation of her soft voice near to him affects him in an indiscernible (but entirely pleasant way). The golden rim of his hazel eyes gleam with a mischief that had remained dormant and stifled inside of him since his youth, and with a gentle nudge of his shoulder against her own before drawing himself away between the dense foliage, he says, ”Come with me.”
Oh, but the way his mouth presses so delicately to her cheek has her forgetting what direction she came from, or where she was even heading. It’s sinful how easily Canaan can sweep away her thoughts with the soulful cadence of his deep voice; practically black magic as his lips dance lightly over her dark skin. When the soft pressure of his teeth draw smooth tracks along her back Circinae shivers, loses herself to the shadows that linger behind her half-drawn lids, and allows herself to lean into the sensation of his wings while they leave sensual pinpricks over her tender, jade ribcage. “This,” She thinks, moaning airily in protest when her companion halts his touches to stand by her again, “is exactly what I needed.”
Even his teasing only heightens her mood, drawing a throaty laugh out into the open as she blinks to regain her bearings. Her head shakes and the curtain of fine hair that hides nearly one side of her neck quivers, navy turning to indigo as the spattering of light weaves playfully through her mane. Men … such hypocrites. Yet, Canaan is game for her little excursion - the tap of his rugged nose sparking her excitement once more before he encourages her to follow. Circy’s colored hooves move of their own accord then, jerking readily to send her in whatever direction he led, like a good little pup.
It was hard to refrain from the child-like joy that was bubbling in her chest; especially when her mischievous counterpart is more than accommodating. All it had taken was a look, a laugh, and here they were pushing undergrowth and bracken aside as only carefree youth can do. Canaan made it so simple to be together: no competition, no bitterness, and certainly no wife. “Well, as far as you know.” She reminds herself, but she won’t think about those things now. Better to worry when all was quiet and she was alone again.
The Forest thins for the current moment and Circinae draws alongside him, the rhythmic thud of their pace lulling her into a peaceful sort of state. Nothing came easier to her than these interactions and she’s intensely grateful for it, but soon her curiosity has her blue eyes glancing to his alluring face, a question, “What’s been keeping you busy these days?” breaking the silence, though the words are hushed and buoyant. It was only fair - polite, almost, to want to know where he’d been hiding away.
Circinae
I need the crack of a whip, I need some blood in the cut
now and then there's a light in the darkness; feel around 'til you find where your heart went.
Feeling her melt beneath his touch (eliciting a tremor that traverses the length of her spine, sensing her unravel under his teeth), he can hardly contain the mirth bubbling up within his core, filling each and every empty crevice with elation – a feeling he had been without for some time. His hazel eyes observe the way the bleak rays of sunlight weave through her lustrous tresses, framing the stunning shape of her features. The gentle rumbling of laughter shared between them is enough, and soon he is guiding her through the thicket, traversing the woodland together.
There is an undeniable cadence in the way that she moves alongside him; a rhythm that soothes his weary and tired heart. The gentle sound of her breathing, of the dried, brittle leaves of autumn crumbling beneath their weight, the crackling of the brush as their muscled frames press past the fragile remnants of foliage cloaked in winter’s breath – all are enough to smooth the edge of the silence shared between them, and it is a comfortable silence at that. When it is finally broken, her voice – soft and inquisitive – provokes a smile to the corner of his darkened mouth, as the golden flecks of his eyes search the icy, seemingly endless blue of her own.
”Not much,” he muses, his mind distant for a moment as he rifles through the wasted days spent. ”I grew tired of being the aimless wanderer for a while and went home to the island.” The frigid breeze that interlaces itself between the dry, wiry branches of the forest is a reminder of how little he missed the humidity and heat of Tephra, but he would always long for the company of those who called it their own.
”My mother and father are expecting again,” there is a trace of amusement in his tone. He does not say either of their names; he does not seek recognition in either of their positions – or legacies. ”so there’s that. I have a younger sister I haven’t seen in some time – I need to find her.” A pause, as if contemplating the idea. ”I spend most of my time meeting new faces, finding new places.“
But there is something, something forlorn tucked away within his words.
”There’s – I don’t know if I should even say this, but I feel like I can tell you anything.” His gaze meets with hers again, the ridge of his brow furrowed. ”One of my closest friends is .. pregnant.” The word is so heavy; a weight that nearly feels crushing and the ache that has long been held within his chest emerges yet again, threatening to swallow him whole. ”I hadn't seen her in a long time, and she, her sister and I spent a lot of time together when we were young. A part of me is happy for her, and the other part,”the other part is breaking, splitting at the seams,”always hoped it would be me.”
Fool.
With a deep breath, his gaze apologetically seeks her own.
”I’m sorry, that was heavy." He presses the velvet of his nose against her shoulder, the same carefree smile pulling at his lips again. "Tell me, Circinae – what has been keeping you busy?”
Oh, my love, don't forsake me Take what the water gave me
She thought that she had enjoyed the silence between them, but when his mouth falls apart and his voice begins to dull the noise of the deadened wood (blanketing her with its peaceful warmth, lulling her into a wonderful sense of stasis) she decides firmly that she would trade an eternity of silence for the opportunity to be wrapped up those heavy, warm notes. “Not much.” He tells her, but she doesn’t believe it for a minute. How could those honey-gold eyes possibly hope to hide the depth behind them, especially from her? Still, there is a twinge of satisfaction when he mentions his home, as if he’s opening a small window for her to peer inside.
The light within is soft and brilliant. Siblings, he has plenty - something that Circinae can easily relate to. A long-lost sister brings to mind her last visit with Wyrm (not entirely pleasant, but that was years ago) and she feels a twinge of longing in her own breast. If she had gotten to know her half-brother better, would she have suffered alone as she did? “Yes.” Her conscious supplies, giving her images of his terrible nature. “Wyrm was never loving, or protective.” He’d met her because of their father, nothing more, nothing less.
“I feel like I can tell you anything.” He says, drawing her attention fully back to him. There’s something there - in the way his lips pull downward just so - that has her chest clenched tight into a fist of worry. “A friend…” He calls another mare, but Circinae knows no such ‘friend’ could dampen Canaan’s spirits without good cause. Her eyes are searching his face now, watching as a shadow looms over his expression and sorrow touches the golden corners of his cheekbones, weighs heavy on those winged shoulders. “always hoped it would be me.”
Silence envelopes them.
It hurts, of course, to realize that in every situation she finds herself in she seems to be a second, less-worthy option. Always dancing so close to the flame but never feeling its heat without being burnt. In shyness, she turns her gaze away and concentrates instead on the erratic rhythm of her own heart. She can’t be mad though, or disappointed (how could she?) because it’s clear to her that these two have history, just as Ruan and Reagan had something she could never hope to understand. An ear tips in his direction while a thoughtful smile keeps her spirits together, “Don’t apologize.” filling the tense air around them while she exhales softly. “Perhaps, some day, it will be you.” She muses, “Love works in curious ways.”
She only wishes that it would curiously work for her, at least once. “Keeping me busy?” She ponders aloud, laughing gently at the notion. “I can show you better than I can tell you.” She tempts, tail swinging in a wide arc to slap him haphazardly from behind. He’d shared a secret with her, had he not? It would be rude of her not to return the favor. With a simple, smooth motion she pushes herself ahead into a trot, each footfall precise and deft in its action - until the third stride, when she shifts wholly into a slender, little brown wolf.
With a playful, toothy grin she stops, turning back to yip at Canaan with a wag of her bushy tail. Her large ears twitch, head tilting gently while she sniffs the breeze from a new perspective, and then in another blink of the eye she grows and changes once more, back to the mare he’s become so familiar with. “I smelled water nearby!” She laughs, the sound throaty and pleasent on her tongue. Nevermind the fact that she’d just become another creature. Circinae waits for him there, blue eyes bright with excitement once more, choosing to push the sorrows of yesterday behind her … if only for a moment of happiness with him.
now and then there's a light in the darkness; feel around 'til you find where your heart went.
The doubt that lingers within her icy stare is almost enough to unnerve him; he is certain that she can see through the thinly veiled façade and he has never been much of a liar and had little intention of beginning now. Alas, it was easier to push the heavy thoughts from his mind, and it was simpler to omit what was troubling him. He did not need to place the burden on her shoulders, as it was not her weight to carry, but the ease in which he is able to give himself away to her is both cathartic and alarming – and a small ebbing of uncertainty has already begun to crawl inside the tender tissue of his heart, warning him that someone like her could never want someone like him.
He was a wayward spirit; an unshakable enigma. He rarely remained still for long, and he longed for somewhere – anywhere – outside of where he had already been. There is nothing steady or stable about the deeply rooted wanderlust that has consumed him, and yet, there is a small piece of him that would resist the allure of the tightly knit woodland, the starlit sky above, the rolling waves crashing along the jagged shoreline – just to be at her side.
A warmth envelopes the hollow of his cheeks at the thought, inwardly scolding himself for giving weight to the thought – he hardly knew her, and yet – and yet, he felt as if he had always known her. He is drawn away from his reverie by her words. Never loving, never protective. Though he could not imagine it himself, a faint empathetic smile pulls at the pale line of his mouth (he was fiercely protective and affectionate to his own sister; she was knit of the same thread as he – and as such, she was as much a part of him as his own heart).
”Something tells me you are not one that has ever needed protecting, Circy,” a hint of amusement laced in his soft tone. ”and love is something I imagine you are surrounded by.”
And when his confession and the lumbering mass of it has settled in the thin woodland air, his hazel eyes follow the slope of her cheek to her bright, vivid eyes, seeing something hidden away within the icy flecks around the rim. The smile has long since faded away, left with the remnant of a frown as his velvet lips press against the crook of her jawline, where it meets with her long and slender neck.
”It does, doesn’t it?” He muses softly, the golden fragments looming in his own hazel stare observing her for a moment. ”It won’t be with her, though.” A pause, as his brow line furrows in thought. ”She has never felt for me the way I do for her, and I doubt she ever will. Some things are not meant to be.”
It is not a thought he is able to linger on for long, as she emerges to the forefront of their gentle canter, and soon the ache within his chest is forgotten. Her laughter is infectious, and he is smiling again, with a deep chuckle reverberating inside of his throat. I can show you better than I can tell you, and within a single breath, she is suddenly .. a wolf. The carefree simper that moments ago pulled at the corners of his mouth falters slightly as his eyes widen and his heart pounds erratically against the hollow of his breast.
She is small, lined with thick, russet fur and – he cannot help but to take note of the gleaming, sharp teeth protruding from her mouth. A deeply buried instinct urges him to turn, to flee – to leave, at whatever capacity necessary, but a more reasonable and logical piece of him maintains control and he is still. Her soft yip is still every bit as much Circinae as any word she had spoken, and when she is herself again, he cannot restrain the bubbling laughter from within.
”I did not expect that – ah, you were what I was following,” he says as recognition befalls his strong features, a grin now drawing his lips apart. ”you are something else, Circinae. And I mean that in the best way.”
”Come, you’re right - I can hear the waterfall – we’re close.”
oh, my love, don't forsake me. take what the water gave me ..
Who could ever hope to tether the wind or shape water? It goes against nature - the nature that she and Canaan thrive in, drink in thirsty gulps and still feel a hollowness to their bellies when they’ve had their fill. Things that will never be: Canaan and his love, Circinae and Ruan, Raeanne alive and well. The list continues but … but, when he touches her she cannot bring herself to add ‘Canaan and Circinae’ to it. She thinks, “Gods if there was ever a chance of something, please let it be this.” Then he pulls away and she shows him her trick (what a fine one it is too, there’s a smile brightening that handsome face again) before she re-forms.
A word catches her attention, perking those suede green ears as her head angles softly, elegantly, to the side in curiosity while her soft, dark locks tumble whimsically over the sharp bridge of her nose. “A waterfall? How romantic.” She teases easily, edging back to where he waits for her so that she might feel the curve of his shoulder, ribs, hip when the two of them meld together. It’s a stupid thought (one for frivolous little girls) that enters her head then as she gazes longingly between the mesh of amber-and-green. A fleeting possibility, really, that someday she might be willing to fill that longing inside of him with a colorfully tinted child of his own.
A colt, or perhaps a mischievous little filly, clothed in gold and adorned with cerulean points here and there.
She closes her eyes, tucks the image deep within herself, and then lowers her head to plant him with appreciative kisses along his neck. Affection, she finds, comes easier and much more naturally with him. But her eyes are fluttering open once more and they are moving ahead, following a path she had missed before. Canaan certainly knew his way here and she’s beyond excited now to see the climax of their adventure. A few more steps, a round of the bend, and then the roar is overwhelming - a fine mist rising from the formation that plummets from a high ridge to a deep basin beneath.
“Incredible!” Circinae exclaims, breaking away from her partner to test the edge of the water with her toes. The sound is nearly lost in the deafening rebuttal of the falls, but she makes sure that she’s heard when her neck curves back over her shoulder to shout at him. The buffeting winds send her mane and tail into a fury of action, tangling and weaving into themselves as she laughs. “I have to know all of your secrets now!” She proclaims, dancing lightly away from the water’s edge. She won’t go in without him, won’t disturb this place he’s known long before he’s known her.
now and then there's a light in the darkness; feel around 'til you find where your heart went.
The bleak sunlight settles across his golden skin, highlighting the muscle and precisely shaped bone of his masculine frame, as it drapes across the bristling, finely preened dark feathers tucked closely along his flank. His gold-flecked eyes follow the gentle curve of her cheek as her head leans to the left, as her dark tresses frame the soft, feminine line of her jaw and the bridge of her nose. His heart presses firmly against the confining restriction of his rib cage, thumping powerfully against the hardened bone beneath his breast. His breath is shallow, then – caught, trapped within the tightness of his throat – for a moment.
Her voice, a crooning hum, is laced with taunting jest, and he himself cannot stifle the rumbling of laughter from within his chest. ”You caught me,” he says, amusement hanging on the edge of his every spoken word. ”I’ve been discovered. Romantic, it is – at least, I hoped that you would think so.”
There is a light shining in the dark depths of his eyes; his words honest and not veiled with any riddle of falsehood. He had no reason to lie to her; no reason but the pounding ache of his heart that threatens to give him away – but he does not shy away. Should she hear it (should she feel it), as her body presses against his shoulder and thus his chest, she would know the truth in his words.
She is seemingly caught within the grasp of her own thoughts, her dark eyes trailing across his pallid skin, but soon her soft, whiskered lips are pressing against his skin with the gentle whisper of a kiss and he can focus on nothing else. It is momentary, and fleeting, but a moment he would replay many times in the days to come.
He could come to crave her soft, faint caresses, and the warmth of her skin against his – he could come to love her, a certainty that causes his heartbeat to quicken and his blood to grow hot.
As their bodies emerge from the dense thicket into a vast, broad clearing, the refreshing mist of a wayward yet powerful waterfall descends upon them, blanketing their skin in its sheen. Her voice barely rises above the thundering roar of the falling water, and his mouth turns with a faint but genuine grin – one that reaches the shadow of his gaze, and even the taut tension of his jaw. She is gone away from him, then, and his eyes watch as she reaches out to the touch the crystalline, rippling water.
His long legs carry him across the clearing, and gently the velvet of his nose presses against her shoulder, his smile becoming coy as he moves past her – submerging the faint russet stain of his legs into the clear, frigid water, before using a sudden gust of wind by his own urging to lightly splash it against her breastplate and along her forelegs.
”You have no ideas the secrets I keep, Circinae,” he utters then with a crooked smile, his voice rising just enough over the dull rumble of the cascading water. ”but in time I will share them all with you. Come, join me!”
oh, my love, don't forsake me. take what the water gave me ..
They all had secrets, these strange creatures of their world. Half-horse, half-magic, half of something else. Even she, so outwardly bright and open with him, had her own nightmares to tuck away for other times. But as he passes her by to brush the tip of his nose against her shoulder, Circinae is quite content with not knowing everything about her winged companion. One mystery at a time - that was more than enough for her. The rest would unravel on its own, with trust, and no bridge was built in the span of a day.
Though desert-raised her ability to swim is instinctual, nearly effortless, and there has always been something about the water that draws her to its depths. Perhaps the scarcity of it when she was a child entombed within her heart a reverent respect and appreciation for its life-giving power, or maybe she simply had come to love the way it felt against her skin, even now, as it lapped with brisk tongue against her emerald legs. Either way it envelops her like a kindred lover, casting only a dark reflection beside her as she wades confidently past Canaan and his tepid gaze.
Behind her, the amaranthine purple-blue of her tail spreads like a bride’s veil and soon, even her matching mane is coiling atop the restless waters while her body sinks into the depths. Below her, she beats a rhythmic churn, turning in inviting circles for his pleasure. It’s cold, fed by a stream that no doubt credits its source from the mother of all mountains, and the icy prick of the pool soon numbs her muscles. “I would go anywhere with you.” She calls to him, swinging around as if to make her way back to the comfort of his side, but a gentle tug stops her.
With bright confusion she looks back, mouth agape in surprise as the waters beneath her grow ever more restless; a boiling, agitated circle that traps her in its grasps and sends her spiraling. Desperately, uselessly, she beats against the current, fear seizing her in its claw for a moment as Circinae turns back to Canaan with white-blue eyes. “What’s happening?!” She screams.
It’s all she can muster before the whirlpool devours her whole, closing atop her in the blink of an eye. When the waters settle, there is nothing left of the mare Canaan had brought with him.
