sabra_la_antiqua | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who: A small Pavo
Where: The Delphinian shoreline, close to one of the smaller villages outside the capitol
When: Year 192, spring
What: The wind, the stars, the waves

[The moons are almost full tonight, rising together and casting purple shadows across the sands. The stars are bright and clear, the wind gentle enough that the waves of the incoming tide are small and barely capped with white.

The last of the fishing boats has been drawn in, the night is almost quiet . . . and small footsteps make their way down to the beach.]

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[Spreads her hand out under the water, feeling the currents as the waves roll higher over her thighs.]

No. The ocean's voice is different.

[Any open wounds she has sting with the salt as the waves roll back out.

Sing it, as you heard it.]

[Open wounds? No. She's always healed fast.]

I don't . . . really sing. Just listen.

[Then tonight can be a night for discovering new things.]

[Her hand closes uselessly over the water as it withdraws again.

Pulling her hand back and wrapping it back around her legs, she shakes her head, silent.]

[The tide is silent in response.

You wished for me to reveal myself, when you fear something as simple as a song?]

[Doesn't answer that either, staying silent and still on the wet sand.]

[The waves rise up around her, gentle, the water reaching up to her tiny waist...comforting, almost.]

[They're cold and she's cold, but she sinks down further anyway, letting the water wrap around a bit more of her.]

[... What is it you want at this moment, child?]

[It's a quiet word, uttered before she even really thinks on it.]

Home.

[The waves aren't retreating this time.

And that desire drew you here?]

No.

[She doesn't reach out again, but she doesn't move, either.]

[Despite the temperature, the water remains around her, like a comforting blanket.

...I do not know how to help you.]

[Comforting and cold . . . a cold that's seeping into her muscles, and her bones.]

Can't I see you at all?

[The water is still for a long while, long enough for it to seem as if no response is forthcoming.

At length, there's an unnatural rippling to the water not far off the shore.]

[Perks up—

Wait, wait no.

Closes her eyes and waits.]

[Tell me--what does a merpire sound like?]

[. . . not like a ghost. Not a ghost, and not like a sinuous sea creature, magic clinging to its scales. Not like a fish, even a big fish . . . smooth like something that belongs in the sea, but moving through it the way people fall through air, rather than splash through puddles.

Is he scary? Does he have big teeth? Her head tilts a bit, following the sound and the pull of the ache in her chest, a feeling like deja vu except too much is missing for this to be anything but a first time.]

[This is certainly odd behavior... But then, she's an odd child.]

Do you fear the things your eyes might tell you?

No.

[Lifts her head, finding him with uncanny accuracy even with her eyes still blindly closed.]

. . . if you're a shy . . . you won't have to hide if I'm not looking.

It's a matter of preference, child, not fear.

Preferences are okay too.

[She doesn't open her eyes, but she does stretch her arms up and out, reaching toward him . . . silently asking him closer.]

[More silence for a moment, but the familiarity of her--family, somehow--sets his feet to motion. Despite moving through the shallows, his footsteps hardly disturb the water.]

[But he has feet.

. . . where she sits is really shallow though, and something about those steps . . . she waits, arms still outstretched, and listens.]