Softness, once lost, can be hard to win back. It should be tended to, nourished, given the space and time to grow. The instant Anandi left home, she lost the time, or concern, or maybe even the ability to do these things.The first time she killed a land walker-- a cat-- her softness burst, like glass, into a hundred jagged pieces. It would take a very long time for the ocean to grind that sharpness down, if she let it-- but she did not. She killed again (a bird this time, feathers sapphire-green all over except for a burst of scarlet under its chin) and again (a deer, it’s white tail hypnotising as it bounced and swished and bounded not-quite fast enough) and again and again and a-
“Anandi!” The relief in Elena’s voice is palpable, and whatever small guilt Anandi might have had in luring her from the skeevy man is quickly evaporated by the warmth of that golden voice. The kelpie smiles, sharp teeth carefully hidden behind the lips, and she says, again, because it feels like biting into a green apple, “Elena." A fluttering exhale. "You’re so welcome.” She shoots another glance behind them, this one rather dirty, and returns to her friend with a roll of the eyes. “A little wine, a little firelight, people-- men-- get bold. I mean I don’t necessarily blame him.” She smiles beguilingly, recklessly flirtatious. There was nothing here for her to lose, and to be honest little to gain. Anandi did not want to bed Elena, or anyone for that matter who reeked so sweetly of candy-cotton innocence. She was not personally interested in anyone so soft, so wide-eyed, except as a pawn to be played, even sacrificed, at the most opportune moment.
(And maybe, she would admit grudgingly, it was nice to have someone to call a friend.
And maybe it was too easy to talk to the palomino, and
and maybe Anandi’s disdain for softness was borne of jealousy and, thus, a softness in and of itself.
-- all just maybes)
“I’m glad to hear you’ve settled nicely! I’ll have to visit you sometime.” A cottage near the ocean seemed so very picturebook perfect, so quaint, so… so Elena. She's picturing what it might look like-- sunflowers and mint in the front yard, a few lime trees-- when the next topic of conversation, romance, is avoided all too easily. Anandi smiles knowingly, and although she is terribly curious she will not push for more-- not yet. Just know she takes note of everything: the hesitation, the thoughtful sip of wine, the roll of the shoulders as though this was a thing that could be so easily shrugged off. Anandi notices all of it, and she remembers, and some day, somehow, she will use it.
“Lucinda.” She says the name sourly. “Did you find her company... agreeable? I haven’t seen her in a while, but I’m certain we’ll catch up soon.” Despite all efforts to keep her tone breezy, there is a noticeable tension in her voice. A brittleness. Anandi has never been so repulsed by and attracted to anyone or thing in her life. It was quite uncomfortable. “Her eyes are okay,” she admits stiffly, and then quickly changes the subject. “Personally I like blue eyes more. How about you?” Another swig of the wine, and the bottle is passed back.
corrupts absolutely,
or almost.
A N A N D I
@
some say the loving and the devouring are all the same thing
☾
