[P] DEEP CALLETH UNTO DEEP -

[Marisol]

your oldest fears 
are the worst ones

She does not want to want him, but she does. Curiosity rises in her like a current. Foolish girl - for all her military poise Marisol’s heart is still as soft as a girl’s where it beats against her ribs, and when she sees him smile (or thinks she sees it - it could be a mirage) she smiles too, just a little bit, in wonderment. The flash of her teeth is too small to be predatory. And this, though she cannot know it, may be a fault.

Mari buckles the flat of her wings against the sea-wind and leans forward, again, bracing her legs tight as she can on the slick rock. A bird rushes past her in a flurry of feathers and she envies him for his weightlessness. 

Over the edge of the cliff, her gray gaze watches and watches and watches. She has become good at assessing threats, especially in the last few years, and is disciplined enough to watch him like she would a ticking time bomb or a sharpened blade - catching on every edge, vigilant, watchful. He blends in easily with the dark waves and the darker rock. He is no delicate thing, either, tall against the backdrop of the sea, and muscles, and flecked with camouflage both light and dark. And if she didn’t know any better she would think he was beautiful.

But she does know better, and does not think of beauty but of the birds in Terrastella that blend into the trees with their mottled black-brown feathers, and how they are never wanting for something to eat.

For all her suspicion, still Marisol does not pull away. Instead she gasps in a breath full of salt and tentatively, carefully, presses the round edge of a hoof to the slope of the cliff, as if she is contemplating making the trek down.

Steep, she remarks, mostly to herself. Then louder, down to the edge of the ocean: Aren’t you cold?

It is impossible to tell if the glint in her eyes is suppressed mirth or cold calculation, or a mix; either way he cannot see it, not from all the way down there.

@amaroq

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