i have been wearing the ocean all day
Whenever Boudika emerges from the water, it is difficult not to feel closer to gods and demons than to mortals and men. When the first sharp inhalation of air reaches her lungs, replacing water, replacing salt, she closes her eyes and shivers. There are certain ecstasies of living, and this is one of them: the transition from sea to land, the return to air and legs.
It is in these moments, bathed in moonlight, Boudika feels most other. Everything else can be forgotten; her history, written in silver-bright scars up and down her flanks; the aches of her heart; even the turmoil of the world beyond the water. In these moments, she is girl and monster and neither. In these moments, she is simply wild, she is simply breathing, and—
Boudika?
There is always an ending, to those stolen breaths. She does not expect to hear her name and turns her face sharply to seek out the speaker. His silhouette is small, and dark, and if not for the moonlight utterly colorless; the brief, flitting moon beyond the clouds is bright enough for just a moment to illuminate him as gold and silver, a blade glinting too-bright and too-wicked at his side—
But then, Boudika’s face splits into a smile. The gesture is thoughtless, and full of something akin to gratitude. The darkness returns; and she steps toward him.
But Boudika hesitates, remembering—
It must have been well over a year since she has last seen him. The last time had been before her turning; it had been before everything. He had told her of Vercingtorix in Novus, he had—
He had been her friend.
This, she remembers. “August.” Boudika’s voice is warm, and borderline elated. It does not seem to concern her that they are on a beach in the night; it does not seem to even occur to her that she just emerged, dripping and borderline monstrous, from the sea. “How are you?”
@August
