I breathe deeply the bitter salt air, letting it fill my lungs with the sting of lost loves and time immemorial. I have found myself drawn to the sea again as the seasons have turned to something warm against my pelt. The breeze that wafts up from the edge of the world keeps my skin cool as the midday sun blazes unabashed in the sky. I recall the taste of my last visit to the sea and a chill ripples through me, electric and exciting. It was here that I learned how to live and love this world I had been brought to, even if I had not realized it at the time.
My mind wanders to the figure that had come forth from the sea, and was of her. I wonder if she is there now, beneath the waves, waiting for night to fall and to lure others to her inky world. I wonder if I would follow her as I had once been so desperate to do. Perhaps, I think I would, if she were to show herself to me again. If I were to be graced with her presence. Though I have come to understand that gods do not regularly walk the realms of Novus, she I think is an exception, regardless of her words to me assuring otherwise. I have been blessed to know deities in many forms, and I would be remiss to have called her anything but.
I watch the shoreline, breathing in time with the wash of the tide. Gulls in the far distance swoop and dive to the waters, looking for goodies to scoop up. Shells deposit themselves upon the sands before being lifted away back where they came from. The dull slosh of the ocean as she reaches for me creates a melody to my audits. I flick my banner behind me, keeping just enough distance between me and the high tide. I remember what it is like to step into her beckoning waters and it takes a good measure of restraint to not fall into her embrace. Still, the sea whispers her sweet-nothings to me like a tired lover begging me to bed.
I close my eyes and listen to her words, how sweet, how bitter they must be. If I focus, I think I just might be able to make out clearly her desires. Another breeze pushes my veil-covered tresses away from my body, the bells adorning my antlers trickle like rain and I embrace her. I fill my bodice with the sweet air and hold it as long as I dare, sucking all the oxygen from that breath and imbuing myself with all its power. The salt is a cleansing thing, and to be sure, I feel the darkness leave my body like a cloud of thick smoke as I exhale.
“Thank you,” I whisper to none in particular, my lids still half closed as I enjoy the sensations of the world around me. But it is the height of summer, and surely there will be souls along this stretch of beach soon enough. Still, I enjoy the moments of peace while I have them.
The only good thing about a shattered heart you put the pieces back together however you want
Would you crumble if I whispered to you like the wind
Salt pours into open wounds, it is a ravenous thing. In the sea, there is an abundance of these invisible particles, just as eager to invade the wounds of those who sleep in her embrace. Meira is no different, and she can feel how it burns and aches as she sinks beneath the waves. Sinks. Sinks down, down until there is only darkness. Until her lungs begin to burn like the wounds that the sea has poured itself into. Try as it might, even her beloved sea cannot scrub the memory of him from her skin. Meira drifts toward the surface effortlessly. She is sore that she still has no pelt with which to thrive here. She knows that this is where she will disappear into someday. The inky depths of her ancestors. One with the sea, something that all Roannes came to accept. The seals they claimed were sent back to the ocean. A dull roar begins to ring in her ears and she begins to surface more quickly. She is able to catch a swift breath before a wave crashes down around her. The water rushes through her hair, tangling it with seaweed and sand. It caresses her skin, a reminder that she does not belong to the sea.
Meira sighs as she finds her footing near the shore. She turns to peer back into the rolling waves that have grown quiet. The goodbyes they share are always bittersweet. So few understand what it means to love such an entity. An entity that has filled one's childhood with wonder and love. She turns as saltwater spills from her lashes. It drips from her mane in torrents. The seaweed remains woven in her hair, and she makes no move to correct it. For now, it will be a parting gift. One that might soothe the ache she feels when she is so far from home. Rich earthen tones greet her azure pools. The sound of bells floods her ears like the air in her lungs. She turns, turns until she can see them well. Draped across their frame in various places are bells and fire. They appear to be enjoying the sea themselves, a feeling she can relate to. Meira pauses as she studies the figure before her. She is suddenly aware of how very alone she is.
How little the sea has done to ease her ache. All that she began building seems to have disappeared from beneath her. The princess of Delumine departed without a goodbye to hunt old gods with her family. Meira knows she cannot blame the princess, but she does. She blames everyone for her hurt, even though she knows it will not heal her. The earth-bound sea begins to move. She glides through the waters toward the figure. Closer, and closer until she is a respectable distance away. Meira does not hear the words the stranger mouths to the sea, but she imagines it is a moment of stillness meant for just the two of them. Meira realizes as she peers at the stranger covered in bells that she does not want to be alone. She will do anything to forget the ache in her skin, in her bones. "Hello." A simple phrase pours from her lips. It drips awkwardly into the air like the saltwater drips from her skin.
If the last sea mare I had encountered was born of the collision of the ocean and the stars, this beautiful creature was born of the sun-warmed sands and the bubbling, flirtatious foam. Her greeting meets my audits with a halting caution, as if she were not looking to disturb me, but wanting to hold conversation all the same. I turn my dial to look at her fully, a smile finding its way easily to my features. I had known that someone would come eventually. After all, the weather was warm and the sea is as good a place as any to seek refuge and to soothe one’s heated pelt. A place to heal one’s wounds, be they of the flesh or the soul. She is dripping, and I notice but one lock of seaweed woven into her hair. It suits her, I think.
I shift my pistons carefully on the sands to face her more directly, the coins woven into my braid giggling softly against my skin.“Hello,” I say warmly, bowing my head slightly to the mare. I look to the waves as they pull back from the shore, bright blue readying itself to crash against warm gold. A gull cries again as it attempts to pick up a shell still home to a creature not quite ready to become a meal. It’s peaceful, the dull roar of the waves, a constant thrum in my veins and a rush against the bottoms of my hooves if I stand still long enough on the warm sands. It would be so very easy to become one with the sea as she is now, bright and inviting and alive. “It’s quite a lovely day, isn’t it?”
I turn my gaze back to her and I find myself wondering if she is from the sea, or if she is merely a visitor, like I am. Her jewelry, though less than mine, is tasteful and unique, and I am drawn to ask her about it’s origins. The delicate spirals curving to her horns are most attractive, and not just any artisan would be able to craft such an elegant piece. I nod to her adornments, my own silver tittering in delight.“Your jewelry is exquisite, my lady. It suits you well. Might I ask where it is you came by such lovely pieces?”
The genial conversation is certainly a change of pace from my last visit to the sea, and I am grateful for it. Novus has been a place of growth and change since I first set foot on her lands this past winter, and though it was all very necessary growth, I yearned for something simple. This beautiful soul made of the shifting sands seemed perfectly agreeable a lady as any might be on a lovely afternoon, and after all, she clearly desired some kind of company. Who would I be if I were to deny her the very thing I, too, have been searching for?
Would you crumble if I whispered to you like the wind
The chime of her bells sounds again as she moves. They dance against her flesh and the rivers of hair. Meira notices that she can see the markings upon her face. She finds herself sweeping her gaze upwards to the antlers that sit atop the woman's crown. These too are strewn with bells, as though they were stars woven between the boney boughs. She breathes a hello, and Meira can feel the sea's approval. It is strange the way it rushes around her, around them. Meira remains quiet, the silence is broken only by the shriek of the gull. The warm summer sun is beating down upon their backs. It beats down upon the seashell strewn beach. Meira thinks that this must be what scholars mean when they say something is 'idyllic.' If she were not so freshly torn open, she might have enjoyed the way the waves kissed the sands. She might have felt the relief as the sun exhaled against her skin, during the salt in place on her pelt. They ask her if she agrees that it is a beautiful day. "Yes. I might be biased though, the sea is always beautiful to me. Any time I get to hear the way she whispers to the sands of the shore. It's like living poetry." Meira sighs, her passion pouring out of her.
A silence extends between them, but it is not awkward. Meira has not felt the sting of rejection from this stranger, and she is grateful for this. Perhaps her suffering can be eased if she reaches from outside herself. Solis must love her enough to provide life rope to her. Something that she might pull herself ashore with. Even if she loves the sea, she knows how dangerous it can be. Whether it is emotional or physical, the danger is always the same. Her companion speaks again, prying Meira from her thoughts when she asks about the jewelry she wars. Meira peers up toward the spiral caps atop her horns. They are such an integral part of her that she sometimes forgets she wears them at all. Her bewildered expression soon fades and she pauses.
"They are an heirloom. My mother gave them to me." She answers the mare almost thoughtfully. Meira's speaks in a more guarded fashion, it is a subtle change. She finds herself peering at the bells once more. "What about you? What do your bells mean for you?" She asks a similar question to her companion before she realizes they have not introduced themselves.
"I'm Meira, by the way." She tries her best to offer the woman a friendly smile. She hopes that it is not as awkward as she is starting to feel again.
Like living poetry… Yes, that is a thought that I can wholeheartedly agree with. I tip my head in a polite nod, showing my support for the notion. Yes, the ocean as I have known her, even briefly, seems to fit that description as well as any I could have found in the archives of my home temple. The mare before me seems to be befuddled at my question of her spires, and for a moment I feel a bit embarrassed to have asked. Then, she answers. An heirloom she says, from her mother. My heart swells like the sea rushing to meet the two of us, climbing higher and higher. It is a noble thing to carry the lovingly crafted pieces of one’s family.
“The bells,” I lift my orbs slightly to the bone spires that hold them.“Those are items I’ve picked up along my travels, mostly from my homeland. The hair pieces, though,”I turn a bit so she might have a better look at them, the coloured glass twinkling their bright emerald green from their settings against the silver disks pressed into my braid. “The silver was crafted by my father.” My banner flicks behind me, and the trickle of silver there is drowned out by the sound of another wave breaking upon the shoreline. I turn the other way so that she might see the veil more fully. A breeze lifts the fiery locks slightly, and if she were to be paying attention, she might see the puckered pink flesh of my new scar peeking through before they settle against my neck once more.“The silk was woven by my mother. She told me she spent nearly a year completing the embroidery for me.”
I face the tide mare fully again, a smile on my features, though I know that it is tinged with a bit of sadness. I had not thought of my parents in a long time. I wonder briefly what they are doing now, and what they would think of their only daughter having gone to another existence entirely, that she may one day forget her heritage and all the customs of her people. I blink the sadness from my eyes before they can develope the familiar swell of tears in them.“They are gifts from my tribe,”I tell her, disappointed to hear my lyrics break over the last word.
She offers me her name in that same unsure tone as her hello and I chuckle, the warmth of the sun and her sincerity doing their best to soothe the homesickness in my chest. I roll it over my tongue, savoring the sweet taste. It is warm like the sun kissed sands that surround us, whispering secrets dusted in sugar and coloured glass.“Well met, Meira.” I dip my crown again, bowing a bit deeper than the first time, as I straighten I catch her eye. They are the same blue as the sea, and I am convinced though I hold no proof, that she is of her depths, and merely a visitor on land. One day she will return to those swirling depths, but they shall be warm waters that greet her on that day. I smile.“You may call me Torielle.”
