The things we take with us (Naia)

[Adria]

-Adria-

A perfect summer breeze greets Adria when she surfaces near the mouth of the River’s wide bay. She can see clearly over the surface of the brown-green eastern waters, all the way up to shore where she’s deposited Sande, her daughter, using a gentle wave of her magic. With Ionia travel had been impossible; Adria was stuck to the Islands for nearly a year because her older filly had been a slow-to-learn swimmer. Not good in water at all, unlike Sande who walked across the surface a day or two after birth.

The freedom to leave for an evening or more is exhilarating to the Nereid from Ischia, and she joins her newborn on land with a flourishing wall of rippling water that travels behind her. She speaks to her little girl in a throaty, voluptuous language that twists and rolls off her tongue. It’s a giveaway of her heritage; the accent is unmistakably islander to those who’ve heard it.

Mother and foal stay along the riverbank, equally picturesque against the backdrop of thin trees that border each side of the wide, deep river. The air is pleasant on their skin, light plays off the surface of the water in sparks and flashes while the two inspect stones or muddy otter holes. Beyond them the sky is dotted with heavy white clouds, birds swoop from the jade treetops, and fat summer insects pepper them with stray bites.

For a moment Sande is distracted, babbling into the shallows at unseen fish gathered by her hooves. Her mother Adria watches with an endearing smile and then goes suddenly alert, twisting her head around to look out into the swirling, brackish eddies of the wide-belly river. She felt like someone or something else was here. A presence nearby, watching them.

She breathes steady and holds still, not quite ready to take action and spirit them both away to the safety of the water.

Oh my love, don't forsake me; Take what the water gave me

@[naia] mermaid squad

[naia]

it's a guarantee that he won't forget me.
my body little, my soul heavy.

Naia came to accept what she is. It may have taken years, but the beautiful nereid scales she wears are now welcome. She has her quiet wiles: the sway of her hips, the grin of her lips, the flutter of her lashes. All these temptations she practices on trees and frightened animals and the flowers she calls to her side.

Even in her acceptance she is still timid, still too frightened to draw in those that might not they want to be drawn.

Flowers glisten and bloom beneath her touch, vibrant colors of yellow and orange. The nereid brushes her muzzle over the foliage with a sweet smile, pale eyes glistening with the magic that renews her will. Sometimes she thinks she is better suited as a dryad, but the magicks of Beqanna did not see her fit for land, and so she calls these glistening plants to her side when she is landlocked.

Naia suddenly picks up her head at the babbling foal. She might have mistaken it for river-noises had she been anything other than a nereid - such oneness with the water allows her to know its every in and out. She finds the gaze of another nereid, and she immediately relaxes. The sparkling woman has never met another like her, so her guard drops instantly. She breathes out a soft oh, a curious and delighted smile curling her lips.

“Hello,” is her quiet murmuring. The distance between the two women is short, and Naia crosses it quickly. “I’ve never met another nereid,” she exclaims as her skin turns to scales (a motion she does not mean to do, one born out of excitement). “I’m Naia!” Normally, the mare would feel embarrassed by her candidness, but her fascination overpowers all else.

Naia

@[Adria]