Dahozhoni Meadow seaborne

Nimbus held her gaze for a beat longer than he meant to, her words unraveling something in him he’d worked hard to ignore. The sea. He’d searched for it once, a younger, more reckless version of himself chasing a promise he couldn’t even name. Now, it felt like a wound that never quite healed, the salt of her voice pressing into it, unrelenting.  

His jaw tightened, and he glanced away, scanning the horizon like it might offer answers he wasn’t ready to hear. She spoke of fate like it was a living thing, a shadow that followed no matter how far she ran. He understood that. Maybe too well.  

Running doesn’t fix much, he muttered, low and gruff, more to himself than her. His breath fogged in the cold air, dissipating quickly. The forest around them was silent, save for the faint creak of snow-laden branches, but her presence pressed against him like the weight of a storm about to break.  

She looked away first, and he let his gaze linger on her profile for a moment longer. There was something in the set of her shoulders, the tilt of her head—resignation, maybe. Or something more defiant, harder to name. He couldn’t decide.  

Nimbus hesitated, then added, Prophecy… fate… whatever you want to call it—it sounds like a curse to me. And maybe that’s why I’ve spent my whole damn life avoiding it. His gaze lifted to meet hers, and for a fleeting moment, there was no distance between them, no barriers.

But you… he said softly, a faint bitterness threading through his tone, though it wasn’t directed at her. You still hear the sea, don’t you? Even when you try to drown it out. Must be nice, in a way. He smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. At least you know it’s still there.

With a sigh, Nimbus looked away, his attention shifting to the distant horizon. Maybe you’re right. Maybe some of us are just meant to wait. The words hung in the cold air, fragile and unresolved.