Solira: The Ocean: marshall;

Enola Gay did not know Marshall – this was her first thought. She knew that he had ascended to the throne after the departure of Ozymandias (and though Enola spared no time for regret or sorrow, she had to admit she was disappointed to see him go, if only for the spark of drama and play he had ignited in both Solira and herself), and she knew he was an Oracle… but this was the extent of it. She had left shortly after, without a word, and so had had no time to acuqiantance herself with this King.

She was glad to have him approach her, though; she cared little for prestige but hated to be ignored, and her rank afforded her some decent attention. And when he told her how they’d missed her what she thought was, I missed Solira too. My Vane always did miss it when she was away; after wandering off she always considered if she might take the opportunity to depart, and never could. Enola Gay was attached to very few things in life, but each could be said to afford her the utmost contentment – the sense of peace, of absence of passion or delight anger or frustration, the absence of any real emotion at all, which was (of course!) most perfect for my Shadow.

She was amused to find Marshall emerge from the sea (she could hear it, the water slipping off his back as it returned to hair, his hooves as they slipped from sea to sand with a thud, the creak of bones locking back into place), and felt itching at her back the new skill she had acquired of turning herself into a bird. Perhaps they might meet up out there, as she skimmed the waters or soared in the clouds and he danced in the waves beneath. Good lord, what creature could not find contentment here?

“Thank you, Marshall,” said Enola graciously, but that was the extent of her pleasantries; she continued in her smooth, easy tones (and so strange how bossy she was with the strange skill of not sounding bossy at all), “Catch me up.”