16 - My narrative is always about some dude

[heavenlymisandrist]

[ Open Spam ]

[ A century of ice in Narnia has not been kind to the water elementals of the land. Undines are, generally speaking, family, and Ceres has lost too many sisters to thick layers of ice covering ponds. River dwelling undines are luckier, as running water is rarely stopped by even the bitterest of winters. This one has been difficult on everyone, she knows, but she can't help but be a little extra bitter towards the White Witch.

None the less, Ceres remains unaffiliated. She is rather shy of others, and keeps mostly to herself. There's good reason for this, as any undine who falls in love with a land-walker becomes themselves a mortal land-walker. She keeps to the main rivers for the most part, but does occassionally venture into smaller streams. She never goes so far as the ocean, though. She doesn't like the taste of salt water, and she is at heart a rural creature.

She is far more willing to talk with Aslan's army than the queen's cruel agents, but can easiest be coaxed from the safety of the river bottom with food. The waters are sparse of life after one hundred years of winter. ]

Comments

[150th]

[A homemade hook and bobber splashes into the river, narrowly missing Ceres.

Its owner has very little hopes about catching anything, but dried mushrooms get old after so long with nothing but.]

[mistconduct]

[Unaffiliated ones are to be distrusted even more so than ones who've chosen a side.

Chris the dwarf thinks he knows a way to lure water numphs to the surface.

He lugs a big rock in both arms to the side of the riverbank, and throws it in]

[persecutioncomplex]

[The juniper steps into the stream and shivers needles and the shrivelled remains of berries into the water. Hopefully, the beat of the current will melt away the ice that has collected in her leaves against her: after a few days free and warm she isn't about to suffer it again. The cloud of detritus begins to float away from her, but fish draw towards her, lured in hopes of something to nibble in the barren stream. It's probably bitter, all of it.]