Closed drown.

[Yra]

"Yes! With Syna!" She exclaimed the words, placated in the belief that the strange woman understood the disjointed words and concepts that the Ethaefal tried to share.

She then went on to share strange names. Cyphrus. River-Fall. Why did the river fall? Waterfalls and river falls. In some way, it made sense to connect the idea of a waterfall with the idea in the name of a river fall, but it was still strange to envision. The Ethaefal sucked salt water from her bottom lip, considering the answers provided her that did not satisfy her curiosity.

And then, there was a name that she did recognise, as if she'd dreamt it within the few waking moments she'd had. It reminded her of something, of sights and tastes and smells and endless blue that did not contain a coast. She recognised the name Mizahar more than any other name provided her.

Maybe Syna had told her it before she'd fallen.

Satisfied with that, she tilted her head up to glance swiftly at the bright sun. That could be Syna. It was like Syna. Hard to look at. Hard to imagine.

Finally, she returned her scrutiny to the faces before her, focusing particularly upon the one that had dragged her from the water.

"Who are you?" She whispered the question, quiet if only because she was unsure of who she was herself aside from a piece of sunlight.

[Gwin]

.





Turquoise eyes widened at the answer. So that beautiful creature really believed herself to have fallen from wherever Syna resided... The sky. If it had a different name, Gwin of all people wouldn't know. Unless the girl had imagined it all in a fit of delirious dreams, that meant Syna existed. It meant the Gods existed.

Gwin licked her lips, ran a hand through damp locks, nearly dried by the girl's Goddess, and gripped the towel tighter. As if it could rescue her from the deep pit of realizations. It wouldn't though. It was plainly the truth that shone in the Ethaefal's features.

Then her expression changed to satisfaction. One of the names Gwin had hurled at her seemed to contain the right memory. Which one was it? Riverfall? Most likely Mizahar. Everyone should have those few syllables ingrained in their memory, after all, everyone. Relief washed over the Akvatari as well, relief that the girl wasn't completely foreign. She knew Syna. She'd probably walked these lands before, although that didn't solve the riddle.

"I'm Gwin." And then she repeated her name, just to be sure. "An Akvatari. May I ask your name?" Unusual softness laced her voice, courtesy of the strange situation and the girl's unbelievable story. Gwin hoped she had a name. That'd be a place to begin, a starting location on that map she couldn't decipher yet. Names had meanings. She shot a glance at the Svefra pair, but they appeared to have even less of an idea of what was going on.

Boxcode by Nyxie Nadira Draer

[Yra]

It was progressing swiftly, stunningly so. The ethaefal, wrapped in her towel and shivering away the chill of the sea, found it dizzying. The woman with her tail and wings was the one asking the most questions, so she earned the most attention from the ethaefal.

"Gwin," She repeated the word slowly, letting it roll from her tongue. The sound of it was unfamiliar and didn't suit her concept of names. For that, it reminded her of how hard it had been to grasp the meaning of her own name, the way it sounded when it was whispered. She suffered a moment of confusion when she realised that this woman, Gwin, had a name that could be spoken, but that the she herself did not. "Akvatari." The ethaefal finished the statement, tacking on Akvatari as if it were a surname, but understanding that Akvatari meant more what than who. Gwin the Akvatari.

What then did that make her?

The names that occurred to her were slow and confusing. Sounds that had no place in the mouth she now spoke with. They answered both the question of who and what the ethaefal was, but in a way that wasn't at all helpful. Why couldn't she speak?

"I have no name," she said, her voice peculiar in its flatness. The knowledge disheartened her and again, she glanced swiftly at the bright sun. It was so far away.

"Everything has a name," the male in the pair of Svefra responded tersely. The ethaefal looked to him quickly. "You must have had a name before this. Do you remember it?"

The question irritated the ethaefal and she scrunched her nose. Before she could open her mouth and repeat her question, the female of the two at last spoke up again, placing a hand upon the arm of her sibling before doing so.

"They don't come with names premade, these people like her." She then began to speak to her brother in that same language, the one that was familiar to the ethaefal. As they conferred, the ethaefal was able to speak to the akvatari again.

"Where are you from," she asked.

[Gwin]

Gwin shifted a little on the railing as the girl processed her introduction. A name and another, little things to her, but then she could almost see the wheels churning behind those bright eyes. Meanwhile, the Akvatari was still tasting the idea of divine existence on her tongue. Of course, she’d met worshippers and fanatics before, those who wore their faith on their sleeve like a pretty accessory and those who carried it in their hearts – and their eyes when they spoke of what they believed to be their deity. But here was one who had been with hers and fallen. Gwin couldn’t fathom what that meant. It’d take longer than a few ticks to digest.

After a lot of consideration, the child of Syna simply claimed not to have a name. That prompted a secret conversation among the two sailors that left Gwin staring with salty eyes. No name. Perhaps she’d lost it in the daylight sky. After everything she’d heard, that seemed entirely possible and even reasonable.

Before Gwin could ask more, the girl spoke up. A disjointed question or maybe not. Perhaps she simply tried to change the topic of conversation. It didn’t seem pleasant not to have a name or not to remember it which didn’t make much of a difference really. Gwin ran a hand through her hair, loosening her locks crusted with salt, before she wrapped a strand around her finger. “I hail from Abura, a city on the island of Akvatar off the east coast. I haven’t seen it in seasons though.” Suddenly she hesitated. With a being such as the nameless girl, it was hard to say which words to swallow and which to voice freely.

So she kept talking. “It’s a beautiful city, made up of tall spires in pastel colors and whites. They have holes for us to fly in and out as we please. Everyone is free to visit their friends and work on art together, but solitude is valued also.” The reverence in her words spoke of hope. Aye, Gwin wished the girl to know that the world she had plunged into held beauty too… a beauty of that world made by mortal hands.