Dahozhoni Meadow seaborne

Nimbus watched her, his gaze steady, though something in her words struck a chord deep within him. It wasn’t just what she said, but the way she said it—the kind of quiet resignation that spoke to truths too vast, too personal, to fully explain. He didn’t know if the ache in her voice mirrored his own, but it resonated all the same, pulling at the edges of his silence.  

The sea, he said softly, the words falling like snow into the stillness. His breath curled in the air, disappearing before it could reach her. I’ve never seen it. Not the way you mean. His voice was low, threaded with something raw and unspoken.    

But I’ve felt it, Nimbus continued, his voice roughened by something he didn’t try to hide. That pull. That endlessness. The way it takes everything you are and leaves you stripped to the bone.

He shifted, the faintest movement, as if to shake the cold from his coat—or maybe just the thoughts from his head. I think that’s the problem, he muttered, mostly to himself. I keep looking for the sea in places it doesn’t belong.