WITH SWORD AND SALT -
The thing that comes out of the water, it’s —
It’s her —
The soft blue shell of the ocean cracks open like an egg, explodes into a shower of salt and foam, and the girl comes rocketing up from the depths of the ocean of dark and white, wings and blood, skin and teeth —
A sound escapes her as she breaks the surface, half snarl and half shriek. She is plummeting straight down — no, up. Up and up and up into the perfect darkness of the sky, gasping as the water in her lungs is retaken by air. Clusters of birds shatter as she passes them. The salt of the ocean falls away, replaced with the sensation of cold wind so bitter it almost stops her heart. And the world is falling into a tumultuous carousel of blue and gold and brown, the edges of the land and the water are melting into a terrible encaustic painting, she is rocketing further and further from the terrible ocean and all the ways it’s poisoned her. But no, even this high in the air it follows her - the crust of salt in her ragged mane, the way it burns to breathe through her nostrils. She cannot escape it. She cannot move away from how her mouth now wants for blood. She cannot fool the feeling inside her that grows teeth and shakes her heart like a dog.
The sky melts into a blur of pale blue and white, and just as Marisol thinks it will swallow her whole, she starts to fall again.
Her wings are too heavy, saturated with salt water, pulling her ceaselessly back down. Her joints ache; the weight tugs at her bones. She wavers for a moment in the crux of her flight, trembling with the effort of staying aloft, and she is sobbing, wishing, praying, but no, the sea calls her again, sweet like a siren and just as violent —
And who is she not to listen?
Down, down she goes, a tumbling flurry of legs and wings plummeting toward the cliffs at the speed of light. To a bystander she is nothing more than a comet, hurtling down from the sky, but a comet could not feel like this. Burning and frozen, blood-thirsty and weak, both drowning and flying — the wind is howling so loud Mari suddenly cannot hear her own thoughts, only the perfect dark beat of her pulse throbbing against her forehead. Ba-bum. Ba-bum. The world roars upward. It rushes toward her, a charging bull. Too-quickly Terrastella sharpens in her view; as fast as she can see the plains, the citadel, the barracks, they are replaced by new and more complex sights. A lone figure stands somewhere between the grasses and the cliffs. Nothing more than a dark blob. Vespera please, Marisol howls, don’t let them see me.
But it is all happening too fast. Even if Vespera is listening (a pretty big if) it would require a miracle above miracles. And God knows Marisol is no vessel for miracles —
She crashes into the ground, an angel thrown from the silver gates, and the ground practically eats her the impact is so severe — a high keening noise escapes her involuntarily, she leaves a dent that is nearly a crater in the soft ground. The world spins. Marisol thinks she might throw up, but there is nothing in her stomach anyway. For a long moment she lays with her eyes closed in the dirt, holding back the sting of tears, thankfully half-covered by a carpet of bleached grass. Bile builds in her throat.
Mari spits blood into the dirt and climbs, ever so slowly, to her feet.
Asterion is standing not fifty yards away. Posturing as if he’s about to start a dull conversation, Cirrus drawing circles far above his head. Marisol is covered from head to toe in bruises, bites, long, thin scratches; every muscle and bone in her body begs to be rested, but dutifully as ever she drags herself toward the sovereign, shaking mud one feather at a time from her aching wings.
She says nothing as she approaches, terribly, painfully careful not to let slip the new needle-sharp teeth in the corners of her mouth.
<3
It’s her —
The soft blue shell of the ocean cracks open like an egg, explodes into a shower of salt and foam, and the girl comes rocketing up from the depths of the ocean of dark and white, wings and blood, skin and teeth —
A sound escapes her as she breaks the surface, half snarl and half shriek. She is plummeting straight down — no, up. Up and up and up into the perfect darkness of the sky, gasping as the water in her lungs is retaken by air. Clusters of birds shatter as she passes them. The salt of the ocean falls away, replaced with the sensation of cold wind so bitter it almost stops her heart. And the world is falling into a tumultuous carousel of blue and gold and brown, the edges of the land and the water are melting into a terrible encaustic painting, she is rocketing further and further from the terrible ocean and all the ways it’s poisoned her. But no, even this high in the air it follows her - the crust of salt in her ragged mane, the way it burns to breathe through her nostrils. She cannot escape it. She cannot move away from how her mouth now wants for blood. She cannot fool the feeling inside her that grows teeth and shakes her heart like a dog.
The sky melts into a blur of pale blue and white, and just as Marisol thinks it will swallow her whole, she starts to fall again.
Her wings are too heavy, saturated with salt water, pulling her ceaselessly back down. Her joints ache; the weight tugs at her bones. She wavers for a moment in the crux of her flight, trembling with the effort of staying aloft, and she is sobbing, wishing, praying, but no, the sea calls her again, sweet like a siren and just as violent —
And who is she not to listen?
Down, down she goes, a tumbling flurry of legs and wings plummeting toward the cliffs at the speed of light. To a bystander she is nothing more than a comet, hurtling down from the sky, but a comet could not feel like this. Burning and frozen, blood-thirsty and weak, both drowning and flying — the wind is howling so loud Mari suddenly cannot hear her own thoughts, only the perfect dark beat of her pulse throbbing against her forehead. Ba-bum. Ba-bum. The world roars upward. It rushes toward her, a charging bull. Too-quickly Terrastella sharpens in her view; as fast as she can see the plains, the citadel, the barracks, they are replaced by new and more complex sights. A lone figure stands somewhere between the grasses and the cliffs. Nothing more than a dark blob. Vespera please, Marisol howls, don’t let them see me.
But it is all happening too fast. Even if Vespera is listening (a pretty big if) it would require a miracle above miracles. And God knows Marisol is no vessel for miracles —
She crashes into the ground, an angel thrown from the silver gates, and the ground practically eats her the impact is so severe — a high keening noise escapes her involuntarily, she leaves a dent that is nearly a crater in the soft ground. The world spins. Marisol thinks she might throw up, but there is nothing in her stomach anyway. For a long moment she lays with her eyes closed in the dirt, holding back the sting of tears, thankfully half-covered by a carpet of bleached grass. Bile builds in her throat.
Mari spits blood into the dirt and climbs, ever so slowly, to her feet.
Asterion is standing not fifty yards away. Posturing as if he’s about to start a dull conversation, Cirrus drawing circles far above his head. Marisol is covered from head to toe in bruises, bites, long, thin scratches; every muscle and bone in her body begs to be rested, but dutifully as ever she drags herself toward the sovereign, shaking mud one feather at a time from her aching wings.
She says nothing as she approaches, terribly, painfully careful not to let slip the new needle-sharp teeth in the corners of her mouth.
<3
![[Image: ddg6quy-9d15dab5-339c-4b09-8b57-20a99fda...jvUop12efQ]](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/c175b84a-409b-40aa-8b86-49ed65b989ee/ddg6quy-9d15dab5-339c-4b09-8b57-20a99fda550e.png?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcL2MxNzViODRhLTQwOWItNDBhYS04Yjg2LTQ5ZWQ2NWI5ODllZVwvZGRnNnF1eS05ZDE1ZGFiNS0zMzljLTRiMDktOGI1Ny0yMGE5OWZkYTU1MGUucG5nIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.j-t9RuUsmMyaVL-O1rvZqbyyPYdOvtjHLjvUop12efQ)
