Fire rose high into the sky, burning through the darkness with a warmth that drew him in. He had been here before – long ago, when the moon was high in the summer sky and raucous voices rose to the air in song and cheer. The market seemed strangely different now – tamer, more foreign. Or perhaps it is the boy who had changed. Though he still very much appeared the child he truly was, Pan had grown a bit more solemn and a bit wiser, as time had stolen him away once more. He seems uncharacteristically unsure of himself, as he steps closer to the rising bonfire, shivering to stave away the nip of cold which crawled over him as the sickle moon continued to shine brightly into the night.
There is laughter around him, but the boy is strangely quiet – seemingly immune to the dizzying effects of light and sound. Blue and gold banners whip in the wind and he watches from a distance, unsure if he should join in the festivities even as he turns to make his way toward the merchant stalls.
“Step this way!” a voice cries out. “Beads and shawls!” Another. His grass-green eyes are hungry – seeking something or someone familiar but finding no one. Against his side, Oliver shivers and chirps indignantly in his satchel, before slithering out and resting comfortably like a wrap against his master’s nape. Stay close… the boy whispers, even as the otter seems to nod in agreement, perching higher on Pan’s neck to take a higher vantage point.
The scaled boy walks on, ducking at last into the colorful flaps of purple silk, following the scent of something sweet and something salty. It is the salt the draws him first – the scent of the sea. Home. The water would always remind him of home.
As his vision adjusts to the dimly lit shop, the boy blinks at colorful lanterns as they flicker with light. He marvels at bolts filled with colored silks, and his mouth begins to water at the scent of pastries warm from the oven. But it is the Kelpie who captures his attention more than all the rest, as he steps toward her with his more-usual unabashed demeanor, reaching with his teacup muzzle to lip at the shells in her mane.
You’re far from the sea. His voice is a whisper, hushed with appreciation as he offers the girl a tender smile. Are you lost, like me?
She has dared to come. It feels foolish but oh how she yearns to step amidst the crowd and, for but a moment, become a land horse. A vendor calls, loud above the crowd that sweeps down the cobbled streets.
Sereia dares to take only sips of air as she steps off the street and into a shop full of colour and wonder. Her golden eyes widen as they skip from bolt to bolt of vibrant cloth. Her heart thunders in her chest. She dares to step in deeper, where bodies are pressed closer, where the thrum of blood is louder, louder in her ears.
Slowly, slowly she breathes and ignores the way her stomach twists. Hunger pools deep and her teeth feel sharp, sharp across her lower lip. The food she ate on her way here, a cake, a flower, a crop of grass, none of it satisfies. All of it is paltry to her meat-yearning body.
It is no wonder she is slim and angular. It is no wonder her hunger is a wild thing within her stomach. She keeps it malnourished and it sleeps, it sleeps, until it doesn’t-
She is a long way from the sea and the girl has never felt so right. Though her mane still bears shells and trinkets of the ocean’s deep. Sand still clings to the gold of her skin, it is pale as dust. Her body smells of salt and sun.
A boy suddenly appears as her eyes befall a strip of blue satin piped with gold. She reaches for it as he reaches for her. He touches, a shell within her mane. The girl freezes for he is so close, his skin so sweet his body so frail in its youth. Her hunger rouses, it yearns and tells her of the feast it needs, the feast it begs for. She tamps down her kelpie and closes her eyes, breathing in, shallow, shallow and out anything to bring in the smell of smoke from the street, of the sweet honey cake another boy clutches.
Slowly Sereia turns her gaze upon Pan. Her eyes are warm like the sun, beautiful, inviting. All of her was made to be inviting, so she could feast, so she could hunt. Her smile is wide, wide to accommodate her teeth. She lowers her crown and a shock of golden and blue mane falls across her face, shielding her too-wide smile.
Beneath the thick fan of her lashes she watches the boy, studies the green of his scales. “I am not lost. I wanted to be here.” Sereia says lightly, slowly and dares to smile, small, small. “But i can help you find the sea if you wish?” Her eyes close and she dares not breathe as her kelpie rouses and whispers through her nerves, through her veins, and together we can feast.
When her eyes open, they are dim with regret, her teeth bite down into her lip. “That is a nice satchel.”
@Pan
She wore her hope like a crown, an unspoken soliloquy of dreams
The boy is not afraid – he is never afraid, even if he ought to be. Where her eyes feast with hunger, he finds them only bright with wonder. In this place of festival celebration, who wouldn’t wonder? Giddy with the mood of the night, the boy’s cheeks are flush and warm with excitement. Oliver rests lazily across his shoulders like a cloak, pawing at beads and baubles which drape from the ceiling, but not in an overly-excited manner. Instead, it seems that Pan’s furry companion has worn himself out from the sensory overload, and he merely chirps at Sereia, barely blinking twice her way.
I love the sea, he whispers with appreciation in his tone. In another life, the boy had been a water elemental, manipulating water into playful shapes and spirited fountains. He’d been able to breathe underwater, diving to the depths of the sea and swimming among the fishes. Oh, what a marvelous sort of place the ocean was. In another life, he’d have liked to be a dolphin – or maybe a bird soaring high in the sky… he couldn’t decide. All of the world around him held such wonder, so Pan was never bored in his daydreaming.
He notices the way she looks over the silks, and offers a helpful suggestion. Go with the gold, it matches your eyes. He grins and drapes it against her neck, liking the jingle of her shells as the scarf lays against them. When she compliments his satchel, he grins and turns to show it off more. It isn’t much – a faded leather thing he’d found discarded in his travels. The skin was well-worn and sun-cracked now, but it swelled with treasures inside, jingling as he walked. He fished into the depths of it, clattering about before pulling out a spiny Venus comb murex and offering it to the kelpie.
Deftly, he weaves it into her mane with the others, seemingly unaware of etiquette as he smiles at the way it looks, nestled in her sea-tossed locks. I’m Pan by the way, and this is Oliver. The boy is kind and his eyes are warm as he watches his companion, beautiful and delicate, if not a bit thin. He wonders where she came from, for she seems starkly out of place. Curious to know more, he asks with childlike innocence. Tell me about your sea… I’m sure it is a wonderous place.
The boy longs – oh how he longs – to race along the shore once more. For too long, he’d been lost to the magic of the forbidden island. At first, it had given him wonderous opportunities to explore… but now, he wished for something more familiar. The sea would give him that – for as lost as Pan could be, on the seashore he could always find peace for his vagabond heart. It was time to give the drifter his rest – it was time for the boy find his way home once more.
It is dangerous being near the boy. Sereia cannot help the way sadness and desperation mingle as she watches him and can only think of the taste of his blood, the soft of his skin, his muscle. She looks away and leans from him as he reaches for a trinket in her mane. It is too dangerous for him. She is too dangerous.
Yet she swallows down her grief and does not let her eyes linger upon him. His smile is like the Delumine sun and she knows, for she has spent hours bathing herself in its joyful morning glow. They boy is light, even if his skin is ivory tinged with deep-sea green. She dares to look upon the scales that shine iridescent and bright.
I love the sea. She smiles through her pain, her hunger. “Do you?” She breathes and steps away from him, her eyes capturing the lazy, contented look his otter casts her way. “What do you like about it?” Now the kelpie’s gaze returns to him, curious and brimful with wonderment. “I like to be far away from it. Hence why i am here.”
She rifles through the silk and yet the boy is picking one, wrapping it about her neck before she can say anything at all. Her breath stutters in her lungs. She exhales, painful, yet relieved when the siren-song of his blood does not overwhelm her. “Thank you.” The kelpie murmurs, a smile blooming along her lips.
“Nice to meet you both. My name is Sereia.” Her gaze returns to merchant as she pays some coins for the scarf. It is the second she has bought in the festival. Too often their fine silks are ruined by seawater. She should find some place inland to store them.
“The sea is beautiful.” She says, softly, sadly. “There are mysteries at the bottom - like shipwrecks.” The girl breathes, ‘Have you ever been to the bottom of the ocean, Pan?”
@Pan
She wore her hope like a crown, an unspoken soliloquy of dreams
Pan cannot imagine why anyone would wish to be far from the sea, for if he could have his way, he would have spend his every waking moment on the shores of playing in the waves. He missed the blue-green waters of Neverland, the way they hushed against the sand, lulling him to a peaceful sleep. He missed the sea breezes, the cry of the gulls, the endless days spent daydreaming along the wave-washed shore. There was a sea here, but it was far from others… and Pan missed people too. He wanted it all, but hadn’t been able to make his home in one place here in Novus – so the boy had become a wanderer, letting his whismy take him where it would.
But man, he missed the sea.
So he says nothing in response to her puzzling words, instead smiling as she paid the merchant his coin, eyes widening as she mentioned shipwrecks at the bottom of the sea. A long time ago, I was in a place with the sea god Selke – maybe you know him? He gave me the gift of underwater breathing, and I could swim as deep as the sea would go… but I never saw a shipwreck… is it a pirate ship? The boy grinned at the thought, as entranced with pirates as any child, spending many nights playing swordfighter against his nemesis – Captain Hook!
Where he should be afraid of the kelpie, instead the boy finds only curiosity, itching to know more of her stories of the sea. Together, they leave the tent, allowing the silk of the flaps to brush against him as again the din of the festival rose around them. What do you like best about the bottom of the ocean? he asks, What else have you seen there? For I know many interesting things live far from the surface of the sea… what I wouldn’t give to swim deep into Selke’s sea again…
The boy is bright, his skin pale but an aura of brilliant joy - as bright as the sun - radiates from him. He speaks of a god she does not know and a magic he has lost. Does he miss it? She wonders.
Selke.
“I have heard of selkies, but not a Selke.” Sereia trails off thoughtfully. “There are many sea gods from many different worlds, I think.” Often she reads books and in them are tales of other worlds and their strange ways and their even stranger gods and magics. Sometimes she plays the guessing games and tries to decipher which lands are real, which are myth and which are simply just a story. “A shipwreck is not always a pirate ship, but sometimes it is.” Her laugh is light. “It is most exciting when it is. But often the ships have all sorts of treasures on them. It is enjoyable finding out what secrets they hide.
Slowly they meander through the crowd, away from the silks that float and ripple like the waves of the sea bidding them farewell. “I love the different plants and animals you can find there. Some like aliens, some with magics you will never see on land. Sometimes there are the bones of ancient animals long dead.” Her smile grows mysterious and playful. “But I prefer the land. I have not had so much time to explore here. I would spend all my time on the land if i could. How about you? Would you wish for your magic back so you could spend every moment in the sea? Or would you miss the land too much?”
@Pan
She wore her hope like a crown, an unspoken soliloquy of dreams
Pan wondered how he could mold his life, if there were no bounds and no magics off limits. He would want the sea, yes… but he would miss the earth and the skies too much to stay tied to the ocean forever. I want it all, he says simply, with a smile. The sea, the land, the sky… Some nights I lie awake for hours, dreaming of what it might be like to fly to the moon, to walk to the furthest ends of the earth, the dive into the deepest corners of the sea. I should like to see it all, someday. For even the sea was too confining for his wild spirit. Pan would never be satisfied with only one thing.
But I do miss it, the sea… he says with a sigh, shaking away a hint of sadness with his usual jovial grin. As they walk easily together among the colored tints and in the summer’s breeze, it is easy for him to close his eyes and picture himself on the salt-brined shell-littered beach, for his companion smells of the sea – wild and alluring.
Maybe you can take me there someday – to see the plants and animals? He turns, showing off the shimmering compass on his hind, a gift from the water gods which allowed him the opportunity to breathe underwater, if not for the limitation of one occurrence per season. It’s been too long…
He turns then, yawning and stretching before purchasing a few more refreshments and stuffing them hastily into his bag for later. I suppose I should be going now though… it’s a long trip back to Delumine. Please visit me? Pan’s eyes shine hopefully as he offers her a boyish grin. You can find me at the river – there’s a cave just past the place where it forks to the west.
And with the instructions, Pan steps toward his home, flicking only one final glance back at his new friend before he leaves Denocte and the festival behind.
@Sereia – finished… finally haha. Just in time for Summer to come around again (woops!) But let’s do another one at some point and pick up where they left off <3
10-27-2020, 07:48 AM
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Obsidian [PM] Posts: 65 — Threads: 8 Signos: 30
She smiles when he talks of his dreaming and of all the things they could see. She sighs, content, “Me too. It sounds like things you read about in books.” Sereia does not think that even books could rival the beauty and mystery of the world - wasn’t books only a creation of peoples’ minds anyway?
He sighs whimsically, longing for the ocean back. It is ironic, since Sereia longs to the land, to be far away from the sea which is tied so deeply into the creature she is. Yet, her longing does not stop her whispering,”Yes, Pan, I will show you all the gardens of the sea and take you down to its deepest depths.” It could have been the words of a siren, but it wasn’t. This sea-monster had no desire to bring the boy to his death.
Back to Delumine. Sereia smiles. He does not know that Delumine is her home too. The girl laughs, “i live in Delumine too. I hope we will run into each other there. But i will find your cave, it sounds like a wonderful place. Travel safe, Pan.” But already the boy is gone, just a flash of silver in a shoal of horses.
She turns back to the market, unlike Pan she is not ready for him, not just yet. Sereia lets herself get lost in the crowds.
@Pan
She wore her hope like a crown, an unspoken soliloquy of dreams
