Maaaaybe @Makan? All welcome!
Her shadow; now she was his.Alara remained distant, ever on his trail yet fleeting, lost in a world so unlike the dirt beneath their feet. Untethered. She thought often of River.
River.
What would he be doing now? Would he be following others too? Speaking softly to them, offering his gentle touches and his quick smiles with an empathy so deep you felt the warmth down to your bones. He was always so warm for a Sea-Snake. Warm, but not for her. Not her.
Why not her?
What was wrong with her? She thought she was pretty enough, kind enough, but time and time again she was never enough. He would be talking to some other woman now, surely. Alara wondered what she looked like, what they were speaking of, what it must feel like, why not her, why not her why not her why
Oh. She was weeping again.
June 14, 2024, 03:23 PM
Saltwater had not come.
He found it fresh and thought that perhaps if he followed it, it would be there. The waves, the crashing sounds, the rolling. It never came and it left him fitful. As if a curse had been swaddled around him when she had spoken to him.
He did not mean to be there every time she cried, but in a way it seemed as if he simply was.
This time he did not immediately seek to place her beneath his hold or comfort. He watched and wondered if the sea would fix this ailment of tears.
If anything he could do or give would.
He found it fresh and thought that perhaps if he followed it, it would be there. The waves, the crashing sounds, the rolling. It never came and it left him fitful. As if a curse had been swaddled around him when she had spoken to him.
He did not mean to be there every time she cried, but in a way it seemed as if he simply was.
This time he did not immediately seek to place her beneath his hold or comfort. He watched and wondered if the sea would fix this ailment of tears.
If anything he could do or give would.
non-verbal
June 16, 2024, 06:37 PM
The warmth of grief quickly subsided to a bone-deep chill. That was the thing about loss. The blood welled, and then it dried — at least until the scab was ripped away once again.
Her shadow watched her.
Alara dried her tears and lifted her chin, eyes meeting his in defiance. She drew herself up with a single step forward.
Her shadow watched her.
Alara dried her tears and lifted her chin, eyes meeting his in defiance. She drew herself up with a single step forward.
This is not the sea,Her eyes were cold, but her voice was soft; filled not with blame but grief. Could he not see that she was fading with each passing day?
June 16, 2024, 06:47 PM
"This is not the sea,"
She may as well have struck him across the face. His eyes turned downward away from her own and he felt his stomach churn into something just as frothy as seafoam. If he could have apologized vocally, it would have been tightened and choked by guilt. It would have been a string of words that every man had ever clobbered together in their life like some kind of collective thinking in times like these.
I'm sorry. I'm working on it. I'll do better. I'll be better.
Instead he only felt his face heat as though he had been struck.
As if somehow his grief was greater than her own. A saltwater fish forced in freshwater currents, he had no struggle like that. Besides trying to take this saltblooded woman back to her shores.
He pointed himself away and began a pace of purpose made up of long strides. His innards begged to stop, to make sure she followed him, but he would not force it. If she still had faith in him then she would come with.
If she did not, then he would forever drown himself in oceans and seas to feel this again.
She may as well have struck him across the face. His eyes turned downward away from her own and he felt his stomach churn into something just as frothy as seafoam. If he could have apologized vocally, it would have been tightened and choked by guilt. It would have been a string of words that every man had ever clobbered together in their life like some kind of collective thinking in times like these.
I'm sorry. I'm working on it. I'll do better. I'll be better.
Instead he only felt his face heat as though he had been struck.
As if somehow his grief was greater than her own. A saltwater fish forced in freshwater currents, he had no struggle like that. Besides trying to take this saltblooded woman back to her shores.
He pointed himself away and began a pace of purpose made up of long strides. His innards begged to stop, to make sure she followed him, but he would not force it. If she still had faith in him then she would come with.
If she did not, then he would forever drown himself in oceans and seas to feel this again.
non-verbal
June 17, 2024, 02:24 PM
Oh —
she'd hurt him; she'd never meant to hurt him, not him, and so Alara swept after him with a little cry of grief and desperation. Don't leave. Please. Not him. Not him, too.
Whether she caught him or not she would trail him helplessly. What kind of woman followed her own shadow? No woman at all, perhaps, only a siren; a song of the sea fading with every mile churned beneath her feet. Fading, but still following; weakening in body but never her strength of will.
He would take her to the sea, she hoped.
Or she would die before she ever saw it again.
she'd hurt him; she'd never meant to hurt him, not him, and so Alara swept after him with a little cry of grief and desperation. Don't leave. Please. Not him. Not him, too.
Whether she caught him or not she would trail him helplessly. What kind of woman followed her own shadow? No woman at all, perhaps, only a siren; a song of the sea fading with every mile churned beneath her feet. Fading, but still following; weakening in body but never her strength of will.
He would take her to the sea, she hoped.
Or she would die before she ever saw it again.
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