in tenebris est veritas.
The shore is fast approaching, the brine cresting on low waves as they press closer to land. The dangers that Hadama observes are not unknown to Chaele, though she is less familiar with them than she would like to admit. The Abandoned swims in bursts, riding the flow and pushing through the ebb. The salt on her brow is not only seawater as the muscles in her arms and neck strain through the last stretch. Her mask has also begun to fall apart, all but one wax-fixed crab leg returned to the ocean.
“Life opposes death, just as death opposes life in the balance of nature. But only people use magic and medicine to prolong life beyond its natural conclusion. Only people resent that they must mourn.” Her own resentment only grows, perhaps hypocritically, as memories of loss darken her gaze and the acknowledgement of her own harshness earns an agreeing hum. “What of your underwater city? Does it not expand every year, or accumulate resources for growth, or take advantage of the life around it?”
Finally her toes touch sand, and she looses a hot breath onto the cold water. Arms floating at rest on the water’s surface, she begins to wade onto the mainland.
“Life opposes death, just as death opposes life in the balance of nature. But only people use magic and medicine to prolong life beyond its natural conclusion. Only people resent that they must mourn.” Her own resentment only grows, perhaps hypocritically, as memories of loss darken her gaze and the acknowledgement of her own harshness earns an agreeing hum. “What of your underwater city? Does it not expand every year, or accumulate resources for growth, or take advantage of the life around it?”
Finally her toes touch sand, and she looses a hot breath onto the cold water. Arms floating at rest on the water’s surface, she begins to wade onto the mainland.
