in tenebris est veritas.
The shells on her face clack a little as her head tilts, the wax that holds them together already peeling from its hasty application. Chaele observes the kintsugi on his back as she treads in a slow arc around him, pausing with every pushing wave that disrupts the awkward rhythm of her swim. “Survival is more than what it seems. It is oneness with the entities of nature that would challenge you, and those that would sustain you. It is the freedom of skill.” She lifts her shoulder briefly out of the water to reference the wind-shaped carving once more.
She might have nodded if she did not need to keep her head above water, his words of intention matching that which she might have guessed. Such things are tenets of Survival, after all, and each are epitomized in his defense of the Hale Ka’aila. Her gaze deflects as his does, a hesitation in response to his question. In the meantime she eyes the distant shore, measuring her own strength and ability to reach it.
“The chest and neck represent That Which I Desire.” Slick with salt water, the visible parts depict meticulous geometries that might resemble an ascension or a puzzle. Her lips, exposed against habit, take the shape of a different word before she decides on, “Magic. And the thigh represents That Which I Promise: Balance.”
Those markings would be difficult to see beneath her undulating skirt, which straightens as she kicks backwards toward solid land. Her eyes are on the reef, which gurgles with new melodies as the tide rises. “Is your duty to the ocean, then? To the people that inhabit it?”
She might have nodded if she did not need to keep her head above water, his words of intention matching that which she might have guessed. Such things are tenets of Survival, after all, and each are epitomized in his defense of the Hale Ka’aila. Her gaze deflects as his does, a hesitation in response to his question. In the meantime she eyes the distant shore, measuring her own strength and ability to reach it.
“The chest and neck represent That Which I Desire.” Slick with salt water, the visible parts depict meticulous geometries that might resemble an ascension or a puzzle. Her lips, exposed against habit, take the shape of a different word before she decides on, “Magic. And the thigh represents That Which I Promise: Balance.”
Those markings would be difficult to see beneath her undulating skirt, which straightens as she kicks backwards toward solid land. Her eyes are on the reef, which gurgles with new melodies as the tide rises. “Is your duty to the ocean, then? To the people that inhabit it?”
