[P] The Sand and the Sea

[Meira]

 

↞ Meira ↠

   

The strange island who changes its appearance each season sprawls before her. Meira has not yet left  the beach, for it has been too long since she let the sea know just how she loved it. The way the water rushes to greet her earth-bound limbs, and the way it feels upon her skin. It is as important to her as the air she breathes. So she sinks, sinks into the sea beside the strange island that is full of magic. Beneath the waves, nothing else matters. The sounds of the world above become so soft, so quiet. They creep from a dull roar to a quiet hum. Azure chasms slide open beneath the waves, and a smile crawls across her face. The water here is still cold, it too is shedding the memories of winter at the edges of the sea. Down, down, down she plunges into the blue expanse. Then, as if to remind her that she no longer belongs to the sea, it gently pushes her away. The currents pull her toward the island, closer and closer until she is standing upon the sands once more. Meira casts her gaze behind her with a quiet smile upon her face. The sea thanks her for the visit, but lets her know when it is time to go.

If it were up to her, she would go home and never leave. She would leave the world of the mages and land-bound equines far behind. They could take the sea from her, but not out of her. Meira murmurs her love for the fathomless depths before she turns to venture into the heart of the island. Her frame drips with each step she takes, and the chill of the air is quick to descend upon her flesh. She is more whole, each time she steps foot on land again when she has made a visit home. The gentle reminders from the tides are always bittersweet. The sea is an excellent lover, but it does not love only her. It loves in ways that are intangible. Much like the stars in the sky. The sea is her sun. Meira moves further and further into the island, back to where she first encountered the throne with the stranger just days ago. When she arrives, she stops and stares. Meira is unable to decide if she should approach it, or investigate the surrounding area.

So she stares. Waits and stares for the ghosts to come out. It will not be the first time that ghosts have chosen to gnaw on her bones. It is always when she is a little more whole, and each time they take a little more from her. They are like him. Raking their fangs along her vulnerable hide. A hide that has just had fresh salt poured across it. As she turns, she spots movement near her. The movement is just slightly to her left, and her ocean chasms search for the movement. The earth-bound sea remains quiet, but obviously aware of her surroundings. She exists in a state somewhere between social and withdrawn.



@Tenebrae
I am so awful at starters ;__; I hope this is okay obsi <3

 

[Tenebrae]

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tenebrae

The work of the eyes is done.
Go now and do the heart-work on the images imprisoned within you.
~Rilke

He has begun to think that the sea might enchant all girls. Is it a siren itself? The way it lies, at times so still and yet at others wild and strong and utterly lethal. It is depthless, its deepest reaches undiscovered, keeping parts of itself so well hidden. He can see how the ocean enchants all girls out into its depths.


And Tenebrae has learned that he has come to love girls who love the ocean… It is what draws him out to the sea now. Shape of him upon the sand is dark, forlorn. He does not see the girl who stands so close, who looks out at the sea and waits for it to unleash the souls it has swallowed. The wind grooms her as she waits. It tugs her mane into wild tangles and breathes salt as fine as dust along her lips, her frost-bitten cheeks (for the chill of winter tries to remind them that it is still more than a memory). 


Upon the monk the wind is coarser. It hisses in his ears and scours him with salt. The tide spits and hisses its warning as it falls upon the sands and reaches, crawling and rolling, up the beach toward his limbs. 


The lone man stands, like he waits. About him his shadows billow like a pirate’s sail. At its fore, before him, it rises, almost like a hand, a finger reaching out into the bruised-grey sky above the sea. He stands still, this warrior monk who has, for the moment, armed himself with weapons of sorrow. 


He might know how the girl beside him suddenly turns, her attention caught by the movement of his black shadows. They reach for her, rippling flags, extending fingers. With a touch cool as midnight, his shadows yearn to press upon her skin and whisper to him that a girl stands here, so near…


They reach, they reach…


But Tenebrae stands oblivious. He looks to the sea but sees nothing at all. The worn bandage about his eyes has been worn thin by time and weather. It is fraying, threads trailing loose across his nose and cheeks in the wind. 


The Disciple senses nothing as he stands beside the sea and wishes he were not monk.

[Meira]

 

↞ Meira ↠

   

Tendrils of darkness crawl closer and closer with every moment she is immobile. At first she thinks it to be a flicker of her imagination, sparking to life in an attempt to scare her. Meira is not made for fear. So when she notices that the shifting shadows extend from a figure, her head jerks in their direction. For a moment her gaze flickers back toward where the throne once sat beside her, and she realizes she has not yet stepped off the beach. It is something she does often, where she imagines the path she is to take before she moves. Only at times does it appear as a waking dream to her, not unlike this strange man with eyes bound by threadbare cloth. He glows, every inch of him appears ethereal. In a way he is. He is. He is. Caligo has blessed him. It is plain to see by the moons that glow upon his shoulders in time with the tides that creep towards his limbs.

Meira recognizes him as a son of Caligo, for she has spent enough time in Denocte to identify her sigil. She does not love Caligo, although she has an affinity for the tides. Meira loves Solis, but she belongs to Dawn now. He is smoke, ash, and silence. He peers without seeing the snarling sea. It does not love him the way it loves her. It is not tender and gentle, it does not thank him for his visit. Part of her feels the sting of pain stir inside of her as her anger bristles upon seeing him. Everything and everyone that reminds her of Denocte feels the heat of her gaze at first. Though she bears pride as a soldier of Delumine, she has the heart of the lion that Solis has given to her. It is impossible to escape. All who know her, who senses her, will feel it. The shadows are the ones that love this man. But they are not as fathomless as the sea. So she does not fear him, nor the shadows that ache to caress her frost dusted skin. 

One step closer. Then another. She moves to close the distance between them so that her lips can spill the salt back into the sand as she speaks. "Of all the places to see a child of Caligo, this beach is not the one I expect to find them. Your shadows seem hungry." Meira speaks to him. The salty brine of the sea spills from her lips like ink. There is no malice in her words. Not yet. He has not earned the painful barb of her scorn yet. Although he is a mage, she has always found herself fascinated by those who were blessed with magic by the gods of Novus. "Caligo knows me as Meira." She introduced herself in a peculiar fashion. 

Meira knows this. It is a way for her to share that she has lived in Denocte long enough to become familiar with the goddess. The goddess she could not come to love as passionately as she did Solis. Meira got the feeling that the goddess of the night would not love her, one who was made for war and hate. 

She waits, and she is careful. So careful. In case he is like all the other mages she has met from Denocte.

@Tenebrae
Sorry for the wait <3