[seasonal event] to find a soul somewhere

Deimos There were more and more around his feet: gold and shining, awakening beneath the sun’s breadth and breath. His eyes were attuned and fixated on gilded edges now, fringed and flared, aiming to catch them all before they swerved away, before realizing he was an undeserving measure in their presence. The ones nettled between the soles of his shoes were caught, brought to his gaze for closer inspections, pondering what to do with the little lustrous pebbles, if anything at all, before meandering back to his basket, tossing them within, deciding on their roles and fates later. It was only then that he heard a distant splash, and he shifted and twisted his frame back to the beckoning, floating alms of the current, witnessing a telltale tail flowing beneath the swell, the rapids, stars and heavens, celestial contentment. If it had been Jyoti, then that meant Amalia was nearby – signatures and symbols now, conjoined in confluence, one and then the other, bonded and fluid. The singsong hums nearby, echoing off of the courses and tides, was the only other indication and manifestation he required; a small smile rummaged through his stoic intervals, clattered against the rubble and rumble of his chest, and he listened as he grew closer and closer, advancing on the opposing side of her chosen rock with a predator’s stalk. Quiet and deadly, unearthly and otherworldly, slow and precise, each movement utterly controlled, breaths hidden in small squalls, a snicker emboldening his features, audacious and insolent, the kind of boyish, impish impudence more often conspired in her orbit – where it was safe, where it was accepted. He listened as she sang, what could’ve been a lullaby, a trace of yesteryears, learned legends, gods spiraling from her tongue; as he inched forward, seditious and mighty. His eyes were segmented towards the waves, the calf rising back up to the surface, as he finally came to the shoreline, ducked down, hidden by shoal and boulders. He lowered his hands into the water, felt the cool sensation rush against his fingers, intertwine, intermingle, old friends lost to legacies and sorrows. A child of its storms and plumes, and now an ancient being on its threshold, he favored its power, he savored its dedication, its constancy. For now though, he utilized it with an air of mischief, something he was certain the river’s fathoms would appreciate. Swiftly, quickly, a tiny pool formed in his palms, and with rapid motions, he heaved it towards his right, intending for it to sail over the rock, and possibly onto the baker; a chilling, brisk situation that caused him to muffle the laughter threatening to bark and howl from his lungs. Out of sight and out of mind Make everything alright So let the sky and sea collide Just not in our lifetime