Oystercatcher Tide Pools rock lobster

perhaps there had been a brief moment, before the fall of tragedy, where she saw providence. 

it was fleeting and stolen as soon as she dared blink; the culminations of her own arrogance her undoing. following her poor priest's disappearance the woman-once-named had tried to piece together a life for herself and the golden boy -- 

where is he now?

-- but it was not to be. she had tried too hard to hold on to the fragments of her past, a name that she was foolish enough to try to keep. she has learned her lesson, fled the wilds and abandoned the last vestiges of her history. hamartia seems much more well suited to someone cold and bitter, the maker of their own undoing.

yet the call of the wilds is too alluring for her to abandon completely, perhaps hoping for some fleeting glance of what-once-could-have-been. a different type of self-punishment, maybe. either way hamartia finds herself aimless along the teekon's shores, her mind swirling between dream and memory, past and present, not finding firm hold on either. she could continue like this forever, and she might have, if not for the sight of a man with his nose in one of the small pools she meanders around. she pauses her delicate steps, head tilting slightly as an amused smile pulls at her mouth. "hungry?" she asks, voice unfurling like smoke; whatever tragedy she wears is kept close to her breast, private from the world.