Zairah
I had a dream, which was not all a dream... The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space, Rayless, and pathless..
Zairah blinked at the bottle being snatched away, the motion so fast it left her hand hanging stupidly in the air. Her fingers curled slow, like she was trying to hold onto the shape of the heat it left behind.
“Rum,” she repeated, testing the word. It sat awkward on her tongue, bitter and warm even without drinking it. “Makes you suffer less,” she echoed, softer, eyes flicking up to Thalassa. “Huh! Who would have thought?”
When Thalassa squared up to her, arms crossed and gaze like a knife meant for cutting fools down to size, Zairah once again didn’t flinch. She tilted her head up and down a little instead, studying her like one predator meeting another at a watering hole. Not challenged, not threatened, but highly intrigued.
Then came the question. Did you just wake up or something?
Zairah’s lips parted, and for a heartbeat she almost laughed. The sound came out rough, half-breath, half-heat. “Yeah,” she said finally, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. “A few weeks ago or so.” It was actually longer than that, but to Zairah it only felt like weeks.
She shrugged, a small, helpless motion, but her voice carried an unbothered truth. “Stone one day. Not stone the next. Danta woke me and I've been in the Grounds ever since.”
Her gaze darted past Thalassa to the water stretching out beyond the docks, gray and restless under the Deepfrost sky. “If I had a life before I woke up, I don't remember it,” she said, quieter now, thoughtful. Her eyes slid back to the captain, a small grin tugging at one corner of her mouth. “I bet you've been awake for a while, though. You act like it. You're a natural.”
She didn’t elaborate on what that really meant, and probably couldn't if she was asked. Maybe it was the sharpness, or the confidence, or the way Thalassa didn’t tiptoe around anything. Maybe it was just that she burned brighter and hotter than the rest.
Zairah’s grin widened a little, crooked and unguarded. “So.. what else do you do to suffer less?” She asked.
“Rum,” she repeated, testing the word. It sat awkward on her tongue, bitter and warm even without drinking it. “Makes you suffer less,” she echoed, softer, eyes flicking up to Thalassa. “Huh! Who would have thought?”
When Thalassa squared up to her, arms crossed and gaze like a knife meant for cutting fools down to size, Zairah once again didn’t flinch. She tilted her head up and down a little instead, studying her like one predator meeting another at a watering hole. Not challenged, not threatened, but highly intrigued.
Then came the question. Did you just wake up or something?
Zairah’s lips parted, and for a heartbeat she almost laughed. The sound came out rough, half-breath, half-heat. “Yeah,” she said finally, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. “A few weeks ago or so.” It was actually longer than that, but to Zairah it only felt like weeks.
She shrugged, a small, helpless motion, but her voice carried an unbothered truth. “Stone one day. Not stone the next. Danta woke me and I've been in the Grounds ever since.”
Her gaze darted past Thalassa to the water stretching out beyond the docks, gray and restless under the Deepfrost sky. “If I had a life before I woke up, I don't remember it,” she said, quieter now, thoughtful. Her eyes slid back to the captain, a small grin tugging at one corner of her mouth. “I bet you've been awake for a while, though. You act like it. You're a natural.”
She didn’t elaborate on what that really meant, and probably couldn't if she was asked. Maybe it was the sharpness, or the confidence, or the way Thalassa didn’t tiptoe around anything. Maybe it was just that she burned brighter and hotter than the rest.
Zairah’s grin widened a little, crooked and unguarded. “So.. what else do you do to suffer less?” She asked.
