Mortal Issues | Jemin & Briny

I have only ever loved you, my children.

The divine words thrummed in his head. He turned, pushed through the crowd, descended down the stairs, taking two or three at a time. Her voice persisted. He couldn’t get it out - couldn’t shake his anger, his bewilderment, a sense of such dire insignificance.

God’s Landing. The name oozed pretension. Of course it had to be literal.

After what may have been several milleniums, his hooves touched ground, normal ground. He released a heavy breath. A smattering of Serorans stood at the foot of the mighty plateau, readying for departure and exchanging excited chatter. His approach didn’t go unnoticed. The noise died in their throats, their brows furrowing into bitter stares, but nonetheless they quickly cleared - allowing him to pass. Evidently, his earlier outburst had not been appreciated. If Jemin was ashamed - if he was even capable of shame - he certainly didn’t show it.

“Camel crap, all of this. Just a load of camel crap.”

Sending his spectators a crass tail-snap, he continued on his way, spitting words through clenched teeth. The ruffled mule hardly took notice of an all too familiar voice (an all too close voice) until it became too late to evade.

No, no he did not want to deal with this right now. He wouldn’t. He refused to participate.

Inadvertently quickening his pace, Jemin stalled the incoming conversation with scarcely any tact nor grace. Keep walking. Keep walking. Don’t make eye conta - too late! The hippocampus mare - capable of a speed greater than her small stature should allow - easily rounded him and fell into his stride, words already spilling off her tongue. That was to be expected. Much like him, though in a different vein entirely, his little cousin had always been a talker. She was a child at heart; easily distracted, easily excited, easily lied to. Her insufferable good cheer and pathetic naivety were the last things he needed.

That, and also her scaled rat.

Or so he thought. The guppy’s smile was notably forced, and her voice lacked it’s usual mirth. A bounce was even absent from her gait. For the briefest moment, he forgot his annoyance; scanning over her slight form, from the black tip of her shark’s tail to the frazzled curls of her mane, in search of any indications. She looked fine, simply...tired.

Indeed, his cousin was full of surprises today.

...I was looking forward to do some complaining.

Clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth, the snake met her smile with insincere concern. “I’m sorry, who are you? What happened to the Briny with a tender heart?” Jemin looked back to that cursed landing, comfortably distant now, and squinted dusky eyes. “Funny - I thought you’d be sucking it up to Alya right about now.”

Of all his few and potential allies, Briny was perhaps the last horse he’d expect to stand by his cynicism. Yet here she was.

Jemin was impressed, really, by her shift in attitude, enough that it prompted a dry smile to crack the thin line of his mouth. She abandoned us. Yes, but how could no one else - no one but he and his gullible cousin - understand that? The herdfolk let idealisms get the best of them, tinting their perspective rosy-pink.

She continued talking, rapidly, and he scarcely had the chance to interject more than a “hey, I haven’t gotten gray hairs yet” before she continued. Her topics were loose. Relationship issues, adoption, kids, kirins, Alya - wait, adoption?

...her and Kristofer.

Adopting a child.

He pulled back, abrupt, and met her with a wide-eyed stare. “You mean you - you and Kris - with a kid? A kid?” There was no lack of skepticism to his tone, wuffs of laughter bubbling in the back of his throat. Briny was awkward at best and inept at worse with children; between her and that oaf of a boyfriend (though Kris certainly did make good company), he didn’t stack their odds of success too highly.

“You don’t have to settle - it’s not too late to ditch him. There’s more fish in the sea, guppy.”

Fine advice for him, who dropped partners as quickly as he found them, but not what she wished to hear. The mare was lost, hesitant and likely uncertain; she possessed loyalty, the type to deepen conflict, that he couldn’t apprehend. He simply never stuck around to resolve his own issues.

“Have...have you met this kid?” Jemin reined himself in, a rare action of decency. “Forget what Alya said. Unless Kris gives the little snake a knife, the boy is harmless. Annoying, sure, but still harmless - children are hardly capable of, ah, of genocide.”