amaroq
in his own country
Death can be kind
Death can be kind
Amaroq is drawn to the life in her.
Where he is all stillness, an iceberg rigid and unyielding above the surface of the sea, she is alive as the flame that colors her eyes. The only part of the kelpie that moves as he watches her is his mane and tail, thick and light and pale as sea-foam, drifting in the wind off of the water. But although her mane is too short and her tail too leonine to be tousled by that wind, all the rest of her is alive and in motion - rolling eyes, flaring nostrils, tale lashing like a whip. He wonders if she is ever still, if there is any rest in her.
But for all his watchfulness the kelpie does not expect her to step nearer.
Maybe it is that surprise that keeps him from action. If he had thought she would heed his words, accept his offer, he might have taken her then. Amaroq wouldn’t even have to lunge to do it; they are so close, breath to breath, skin to skin, with the water already around their ankles. It would not be so difficult to drag her the rest of the way, even as her body resisted, even if she changed her mind and fought and thrashed.
Be still, he would tell her. Be still and be reborn.
Yet he had not expected it. And now his nostrils flare as he inhales the scent of her, smoke of bonfires burned from cedar and pine, spices he has no name for, the salt-sweat of her body even in the chill of winter. He can see the pattern of each stripe on her skin, the gleam of sunlight and water on her horns, each dark lash over her crimson eye. Amaroq wants to lick the ocean spray from her skin and his tongue touches the sharp points of his predator’s teeth and still he stands motionless like a cub, a man, a fool.
He realizes then that he is waiting for her to make the choice. Amaroq does not want to make it for her - not when he already knows what her heart wants, for the way that desperation shines through her eyes. How badly, he wonders, does she want to find Orestes? To what length will her love go?
I-I-I, she stammers, and he is leaning close, he is reaching to touch his muzzle to her throat (no teeth, only lips, only breath, only wanting that touch-)
She bursts away. Quicker than a seal in the water or a hare in the field, fast as a bird on the wing she is gone for him and he is left reaching and alone. Wordless Amaroq watches her flee and though there is anger beating hard in his breast (anger born from disappointment) there is a smile laying itself upon his lips like a crack through ice.
He knows he will see her again. And the next time he does he will not return to the sea alone.
@Boudika |
