Post by strixx-variaa on Mar 21, 2016 17:08:40 GMT -6
As a restauranteur, Væna was loathe to leave her dining room. Thanks to her mother's hard work and dedication, the little tawny-colored mare enjoyed a fairly solid income, but she knew (through echoes of her mother's voice and present-day warnings from her father) that life in the service industry could go from stable to starving in the blink of an eye. So you see, Væna was always at least a little bit worried about the fate of her finances, and even on her one weekly day off, it was difficult for the young mare to relax.
Normally she'd go for a walk, or read, or try and see what some of her friends in town were doing, but today she aimed to accomplish something else entirely.
And thus we find her far from shore, bobbing about in a charmingly wavy sea, trying not to panic because even though the water is clear enough that she can see the sand merely a few feet beneath her pistoning hooves, she can't quite get her bearings back and she's starting to think there may be some sort of undercurrent preventing her from reaching shallower waters.
Because it's kind of stupid, isn't it, that any Talorian might be a weak swimmer?
And it's easy to be a mare and just sort of wade in the shallows; it's alright to scream and giggle when someone splashes you with water, it's alright to claim that you'd rather not wet your mane, it's alright to act a bit high-maintenance to cover up how truly awful you are when you can't touch bottom.
It's alright, and it's kind of endearing, too, isn't it? It's easy to look pretty, standing in water with your tail streaming along behind you. It's hard to look pretty with your head barely topping the waves and your eyes the size of dinner plates.
This is how Væna justified her shortcomings these last thirty-five years, but it had come to a head the other day, when the footbridge over a little river on the land behind The Pink Lady gave out in a storm while her father was gone foraging, and she realized that had it been her trapped on the Wilds-side of the river, she wasn't sure if she would have arrived safely home the way he did.
And so she'd made up her mind and tried to put the clammy sweat forming on her neck quite out of her mind, walked down the mountain to the seaside, and 'practiced.'
Except the beach sloped so gently that her hooves didn't need to leave the sea floor until she was rather far away from shore, and being a novice at ocean safety in the first place, she hadn't realized the implicit dangers in doing that -- and now she was too far out for her own psychological good, and she was beginning to panic hard.
Please, please, please, she begged Cascade wildly, silently, her nostrils flaring wide as they dared as she fought to breathe air and not seafoam. I promise I'll never be so foolish again, I promise. Please help me!
words: 518
tags: Dry-oasis
notes: closed thread for væna and casimir, as per this plot! ♥ editing to add that i'm giving permission to powerplay/godmod while væna's in the water, since she's essentially helpless.
Normally she'd go for a walk, or read, or try and see what some of her friends in town were doing, but today she aimed to accomplish something else entirely.
And thus we find her far from shore, bobbing about in a charmingly wavy sea, trying not to panic because even though the water is clear enough that she can see the sand merely a few feet beneath her pistoning hooves, she can't quite get her bearings back and she's starting to think there may be some sort of undercurrent preventing her from reaching shallower waters.
Because it's kind of stupid, isn't it, that any Talorian might be a weak swimmer?
And it's easy to be a mare and just sort of wade in the shallows; it's alright to scream and giggle when someone splashes you with water, it's alright to claim that you'd rather not wet your mane, it's alright to act a bit high-maintenance to cover up how truly awful you are when you can't touch bottom.
It's alright, and it's kind of endearing, too, isn't it? It's easy to look pretty, standing in water with your tail streaming along behind you. It's hard to look pretty with your head barely topping the waves and your eyes the size of dinner plates.
This is how Væna justified her shortcomings these last thirty-five years, but it had come to a head the other day, when the footbridge over a little river on the land behind The Pink Lady gave out in a storm while her father was gone foraging, and she realized that had it been her trapped on the Wilds-side of the river, she wasn't sure if she would have arrived safely home the way he did.
And so she'd made up her mind and tried to put the clammy sweat forming on her neck quite out of her mind, walked down the mountain to the seaside, and 'practiced.'
Except the beach sloped so gently that her hooves didn't need to leave the sea floor until she was rather far away from shore, and being a novice at ocean safety in the first place, she hadn't realized the implicit dangers in doing that -- and now she was too far out for her own psychological good, and she was beginning to panic hard.
Please, please, please, she begged Cascade wildly, silently, her nostrils flaring wide as they dared as she fought to breathe air and not seafoam. I promise I'll never be so foolish again, I promise. Please help me!
words: 518
tags: Dry-oasis
notes: closed thread for væna and casimir, as per this plot! ♥ editing to add that i'm giving permission to powerplay/godmod while væna's in the water, since she's essentially helpless.
