Oystercatcher Tide Pools rock lobster

@Hamartia

the coconut grove had become, more or less, his new home. he still wandered, but the need for a home base outweighed his scouting tendencies. it was good to have somewhere consistent to sleep, really. it added some normalcy to a life that had turned upside down quite quickly, and he was grateful for it.

during the day, though, he still explored. the exploring would never cease. plus, there wasn't much game within the grove, so wandering out was necessary to keep oneself fed. today's small voyage took him to the pools at low tide, where perhaps he could find a snack.

nothing was urgent. govinda meandered, sticking his snout here and there (and all the while, watching diligently for crabs--getting pinched on the nose wouldn't do). should anyone happen upon him here, they'd find him muzzle-deep in brackish water, searching for clams.

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.

the voice startled him, and he ripped his muzzle from the water, sending droplets scattering everywhere. fur rippling in unease, he chuckled nervously, licking the moisture from his chops and taking a step back from the pool before speaking. ah, yes, i suppose, he half-stuttered, smiling. sorry--should have been paying more attention to my surroundings.

one would think being alone would sharpen those skills; without a border to defend, though, govinda had become utterly lax in situational awareness.

she was pretty, with pale golden eyes and a patchwork pelt. perhaps around his own age, maybe a bit younger. her sudden appearance reminded hm of erzulie, and heat rippled over his skin, his stomach churning. was she here to seduce him, too? he supposed he couldn't complain. . .but hari had commanded him to avoid flesh-pleasures, and yet here he was falling into that trap, again and again.

would he never learn?

something about his reaction amuses her, winning a mischevious smile. it's easier than she thought to be a person again, now that she has abandoned any former sense of self. oblivious to his contemplations, and all for the better, fool boy, she murmurs, "no need for apologies," her sleepy eyes crinkled at the corners. 

lazily she glides closer, leaning over to peer into the shallow depths of the pool. she's never tasted whatever hardshelled creatures the man was hunting; she's curious. "what are they called?" hamartia asks, tilting her head briefly toward him, not minding her proximity to him (should he have remained static while she drew closer) in the slightest.

there was something in her manner, at once both casual and formal, that intrigued him. he gave into her forgiveness--though, as she said, there was nothing to forgive--and let his posture relax, his smile growing broader. oysters, he responded, bending once more to sniff at the pool. you have to crack them open, but there's decent meat inside.

govinda tilted his head toward her, eyes glittering. oddly enough, being a seawolf, i prefer the inland meals, he chuckled. but oyster will do for now. he thought of the succulent venison to be found on dawnlark plains, and the light in his gaze dimmed, if only slightly.

when would he ever forget them?

my name is govinda, he continued, trying to keep his past at bay (at least for now). are you a traveler, passing through? or is your home nearby?

oysters. she's heard the word before, and now she has an image to connect to them. interesting creatures. it is hard to believe they are edible, though she will reserve her judgment on their quality for now.

"they're little to sustain on," she agrees, obscruing whether or not she is also, to borrow his term, a 'sea wolf'. hamartia is not, at any rate, even if poet may have been. (and was poet even? does it matter now?) perhaps she is simply noting her observations and not commiserating at all. perhaps it is irrelevant either way. less irrelevant, "govinda," the woman repeats, studying the way the light in his eyes seems to momentarily die. 

"i am hamartia," she returns, unaware of the subtle irony in the two of them sharing their new-false names. neither of them need know the truth. "i .. make no home," hamartia decides, unwilling to admit she has been here before, at least not yet. traveler too is not quite right; she is not a cosmopolitan, she is without. "and yourself?"

haan, he agreed, slipping easily into his mother's tongue. it seemed easy, with her. there was something about the woman that made him feel at ease, though he couldn't put a paw on it, just yet. perhaps he would find it, eventually--perhaps not. for now, he was grateful for her company, for however long it lasted.

hamartia, he committed to memory, then gave a shrug at her question, rolling his eyes skyward. god only knows, govinda remarked wryly, though there was more than a little truth to the jest. i have been staying within the coconut grove, nearby--but i have no true home, right now. nor a family to call my own.

you threw it away, fool. the ever-present nagging of his conscience was there, and he batted it away like a worrisome fly, scowling slightly. letting out a small sigh, he nosed around in the pool for a long, quiet and fairly awkward moment, feeling suddenly shy and unwilling to make the next move. govinda hoped she would do so in his stead.

he really hated making the next move, sometimes. seldom, but it happened.

she does not intuit the strange sound as another tongue. to her unfamiliar ears it sounds like a breathy noise of agreement, not worth dwelling on as he explains his position, similarly precarious to her. the woman hmms, her gaze briefly flickering to their surrounds, as if to guess what direction coconut grove lies. the coast is largely unfamiliar to her, having spent most of her time in the teekons buried inland.

(without permission the image of her old shrine flickers into her mind, buried deep in a forest far away. is it still there? has it been trampled by secular paws, unaware of its fragile meaning?)

govinda has returned to the pool when she looks back, seemingly burdened by his confession. "i've no family either," hamartia confides, unsure if her urge is to commiserate, to try and pull him back to that tentative smile, or if it is just an honest ommission. there is something about govinda she ... relates to, perhaps. after a pause hamartia extends her snout forward, the elegant line of her neck arched down to join in nosing for the shelled creatures. at length she feels something blunt against her nose and delicately grasps it, pulling a small oyster from the water. 

she places it at his feet and grins. "now what?"

he looked over at her, a shadow passing over his face, but said nothing in response, instead watching as she pulled the oyster from the pool. govinda gave her a beaming smile of congratulations, his maw opening in a chuckle as she asked the question. it's a very delicate process, he told her, moving close to place the toes of his paw over the shell, to keep it still.

you have to work at the seam with your teeth, he explained, then bent his head, beginning to work at the edge with his fangs. bit by bit--it felt nice, like gnawing a bone, but more gently--he began to work the oyster apart, until at last it was halved. he pulled the top away and set it aside, gazing down at the exposed liquid, the meat within.

do you know how to eat it? govinda asked, lifting his eyes toward hamartia. i'll leave the prize to you, since you found it. he stepped back, the grin fading into something contemplative as he waited for the woman to whet her appetite.

as he explains she listens intently, following the subtle movements of his teeth at the shell's lip. such labor for such a small sustenance, she thinks, but does not say aloud, patient in her observations of his work. when at last it is open he offers it to her; it is unshareable despite their conjoined efforts at retrieving it. "i'm not sure," she admits, her tongue running against her lips automatically. 

she leans forward anyway, bending as she does so she might delicately hover over the shell. curiously hamartia runs her tongue against the meat. it is surprisingly flavorful, salty but crisp, herbal almost. the meat itself has a strange bounce to it, not unpleasant, though she isn't sure how to pull it free without taking the surely inedible shell with it. her gaze briefly flickers to govinda for potential insight as she rearranges herself, her paw cradled against the shell to try and pin it to the ground as she grasps at the meat with her teeth. surprisingly it gives easily, her mouth momentarily filled by a burst of salt, like eating ocean given solid form.

"it's better than i expected," she says, looking up at him as she licks her lips. "though perhaps a better treat than meal." smiling, hamartia rises from her crouch, and cuts to the point: "will you be staying on the coast? in your coconut grove?"

he watched her, remaining silent even after her admission, curious to see if, and how, she would figure it out. she did, eventually, and govinda smiled, nodding in approval. it's not bad, right? he remarked, reflexively licking his lips. definitely a good treat.

now that question was something he hadn't even asked himself. how was he supposed to answer it for a woman he barely knew? govinda frowned slightly, thinking. perhaps, yes, he said slowly, eyes drifting to the far-off trees. it is pleasant there, much more like the south than anywhere else in these lands. but only god knows if or when i'll move on.

did he want to move on? some days he was content with his lot in life; others, he found himself wanting to put as much distance between himself and undersea as possible. right now, he was caught in between the two.

what about you? he asked. are you going to settle soon?

a good treat, indeed. she watches him from under heavy lids, contemplative. when will i ever learn, she thinks, following lazily the drift of his gaze. his returned question is fair, earned, and something in it disturbs a weight she has been holding on to, though whether or better or worse remains to be seen. her eyes drop, tracking away from the lines of the trees and what they might hold, away from him. she lets her eyes close and holds for a moment. ghosts flicker against her eyelids. men and their plans. 

when she opens her eyes she hums, looking at govinda directly once again. "on my first visit to these lands, a man offered me shelter as his kept. after he left, i went in search of a different man, a priest. i suspect he had higher hopes for me than i myself," she muses, her tone turning slightly, apologetically, self-deprecating, "though eventually he too went away. i tried to follow, much too little, too late."

she shifts, drawing her shoulders up in an elegant shrug. "settling is not one of my strongest suits, i'm afraid. yet here i find myself again." in the teekons, perhaps, or before another man with half-formed plans for settling. "i suppose there is little harm in it, though. i've never seen the south, nor the shore," hamartia adds, a smile curving her mouth, wickedly if you squint. whether or not he figures out her self-invitation, well: she'll see the groves herself one way or another.

his gaze grew sad as she spoke. she had been burned, and more than once--and she thought he would do the same to her, too. and while govinda couldn't promise otherwise, he knew all too well the feeling of restlessness, especially when it came to settling. there was a fuse in him, largely dormant, but once lit. . .it could not be stopped.

i, too, find settling difficult, the man admitted, smiling gently, though the sorrow lingered on in the depths of his eyes. but the southern shore is beautiful, with plenty to explore. i hope you'll stay, govinda murmured. don't take that as me, ah, making you decide now. i'll be around, though.

he was afraid, admittedly, of pushing her away. sometimes he felt as if he came on too strong, and there was evidence to back that up. gently did it, with situations like these. . .but if he didn't push hard enough, would she slip from his grasp, like sand on the wind?

wanna wrap this one up?<3

he does not try to make her commit, but neither did phocion. and truthfully, neither had her first ill-fated man. wardruna had not asked anything of her. he'd only offered. hamartia holds little against any of them; though why make the offer if you shan't follow through? 

now here is govinda... not offering, precisely. dancing around the idea as she is. in a way, that reassures her, though she does not trust their avoidant movements to last forever. eventually there will be commitment, for that is the way of wolves. under his mournful gaze hamartia sighs, a soft sound of release, and inclines her silver capped head. "i suppose i will too," she consents. the words seem to take something from her, for she pulls back, suddenly all too aware of their proximity, her tail curling shyly around her hock. her gaze she keeps cool and aloof. "until our paths cross again," hamartia murmurs, letting the words hang in the space she previously occupied, a silver fish darting gracefully toward the groves.

goodbye for now, he agreed, feeling the air shift from introduction to farewell. he watched her leave, hawkish gaze fixed on her tail. he wondered where she had come from. the interaction had felt somewhat unreal, as if speaking with a ghost.

sighing, govinda turned and moved on to the next pool, still as hungry as before.