The storm doesn't feel like a message at all. It feels like a storm. For days it builds heavy grey and pensive, almost mournful. And when it hits, it hits hard. Rain whipped sideways, trees bent pious to the force of nature that wails like a banshee; "on. your. knees."
The storm doesn't feel like a message at all, yet when the rain begins to fall something calls to her. There are so many memories unleashed by the feel of water on her skin and the churn of the storm. The torrent is the closest thing she's felt to home since leaving and--
She's ashamed, suddenly, of how long it's been. How far, body and mind, she's been from the sea. The dirt turns to mud on her shoulders. It rolls down her side and leaves in its wake streaks of fresh, silky grey skin kissed by water. And the shame bends her like the wind does the trees– look how dirty you’ve become. filthy. no better than a land walker.
Anandi does not know to escape the storm in the shelter of the forest or the safety of the court walls. But she knows the ocean, as fearsome and angry as it may get, will always be a refuge for her. And home will always be home. So she turns to the sea, whipped white-grey and angry as you'd think. Not a mirror, not today, but a beast, crashing against the rocky shore to ring her daughter home.
So home she goes. Up to her knees in salt water and the change begins, violent and unholy, legs fusing and stretching like taffy. Skin growing soft and sleek as a seal's. Quicker than a blink and she's out of sight, tossed into the fitful water. The storm was far more peaceful beneath the water, where the kelpie could find a dark cave to wait out the angry tides and raging sky. And for a few sweet hours the ocean was happy to have her daughter close once again.
-- Several hours later and the ocean is still as it ever could be. Anandi rises to the surface and smiles to feel the warmth of the sun on her face. The air in her lungs is full of that fresh-rain smell, all new beginnings and peace. She rides a small wave to shore, and just as she rises to her legs,
Anandi feels what could most accurately be compared to a tug on the back of her neck. When she turns there is a blob of water, bouncing gaily through the air. She laughs, girlish and vulnerable with no witness-- the only time she can ever really be these things-- and dances on still-unfamiliar legs towards the floating sphere of water. "Hello," she greets Anouk. "I'm Anandi." But these sea creatures with salt in their hearts, they know each other, they've always known each other. Anouk bursts into a thousand small droplets that hover like a galaxy around the princess' face. And then it rushes to the skin of her neck, where the drops coalesce in a small, dark stain that whispers-- "Hello Anandi. I'm Anouk."
A N A N D I
the sea was never blue
The storm doesn't feel like a message at all, yet when the rain begins to fall something calls to her. There are so many memories unleashed by the feel of water on her skin and the churn of the storm. The torrent is the closest thing she's felt to home since leaving and--
She's ashamed, suddenly, of how long it's been. How far, body and mind, she's been from the sea. The dirt turns to mud on her shoulders. It rolls down her side and leaves in its wake streaks of fresh, silky grey skin kissed by water. And the shame bends her like the wind does the trees– look how dirty you’ve become. filthy. no better than a land walker.
Anandi does not know to escape the storm in the shelter of the forest or the safety of the court walls. But she knows the ocean, as fearsome and angry as it may get, will always be a refuge for her. And home will always be home. So she turns to the sea, whipped white-grey and angry as you'd think. Not a mirror, not today, but a beast, crashing against the rocky shore to ring her daughter home.
So home she goes. Up to her knees in salt water and the change begins, violent and unholy, legs fusing and stretching like taffy. Skin growing soft and sleek as a seal's. Quicker than a blink and she's out of sight, tossed into the fitful water. The storm was far more peaceful beneath the water, where the kelpie could find a dark cave to wait out the angry tides and raging sky. And for a few sweet hours the ocean was happy to have her daughter close once again.
-- Several hours later and the ocean is still as it ever could be. Anandi rises to the surface and smiles to feel the warmth of the sun on her face. The air in her lungs is full of that fresh-rain smell, all new beginnings and peace. She rides a small wave to shore, and just as she rises to her legs,
Anandi feels what could most accurately be compared to a tug on the back of her neck. When she turns there is a blob of water, bouncing gaily through the air. She laughs, girlish and vulnerable with no witness-- the only time she can ever really be these things-- and dances on still-unfamiliar legs towards the floating sphere of water. "Hello," she greets Anouk. "I'm Anandi." But these sea creatures with salt in their hearts, they know each other, they've always known each other. Anouk bursts into a thousand small droplets that hover like a galaxy around the princess' face. And then it rushes to the skin of her neck, where the drops coalesce in a small, dark stain that whispers-- "Hello Anandi. I'm Anouk."
the sea was never blue
-cringe-
@Random Events
some say the loving and the devouring are all the same thing
☾
