It took a lot to make a place feel like home. For Zahir, one of the most important foundations of homeliness was connections. Specifically, connections to local linchpins: the powerful, the rich, and those shadowy figures who pulled the strings out of eyesight. Connections made for safety. Until he had a web to dance across, he was without the delicate sense of control he’d managed to cultivate in past homes. It felt like how he imagined a turtle might feel stuck on its back, vulnerable, belly-up.
So maybe ae’d adjust to the heat and the humidity and the sun all a little better once ae had aer familiar comforts restored. The beach was at least cooler by the day, the seabreeze brushing Zahir’s face, leaving his skin salt-kissed and pink about the cheekbones. And, if he had any luck, this beach would bring with it the comfort of another connection.
He’d been told the rocks he’d sat up upon, stretching and vanishing into the ocean, would give him the perfect spot to be happened-upon by a man by the name of Ronin. Not only was this man Flora’s adoptive father, his reputation was that of a man so powerful he had no choice but to be a part of the machinations of the world. Given the choice, Zahir preferred to start smaller, build ties with those less a literal demigod, but ae felt ae had to move quickly. Being hunted put a dread in aer bones ae would do just about anything to silence.
Zahir hoped this was the right balance of unobtrusive, whilst not so subtle as to have him go unnoticed. He had a waterskin with him, filled, ready to offer to a parched demigod out on his routine run. He watched the shoreline, waiting for a figure to appear, braced. These early stages were so precarious. And Naseem seemed to like this place, for all Zahir’s bitching. Ae just hoped ae could make it feel like a home, for the both of them.
So maybe ae’d adjust to the heat and the humidity and the sun all a little better once ae had aer familiar comforts restored. The beach was at least cooler by the day, the seabreeze brushing Zahir’s face, leaving his skin salt-kissed and pink about the cheekbones. And, if he had any luck, this beach would bring with it the comfort of another connection.
He’d been told the rocks he’d sat up upon, stretching and vanishing into the ocean, would give him the perfect spot to be happened-upon by a man by the name of Ronin. Not only was this man Flora’s adoptive father, his reputation was that of a man so powerful he had no choice but to be a part of the machinations of the world. Given the choice, Zahir preferred to start smaller, build ties with those less a literal demigod, but ae felt ae had to move quickly. Being hunted put a dread in aer bones ae would do just about anything to silence.
Zahir hoped this was the right balance of unobtrusive, whilst not so subtle as to have him go unnoticed. He had a waterskin with him, filled, ready to offer to a parched demigod out on his routine run. He watched the shoreline, waiting for a figure to appear, braced. These early stages were so precarious. And Naseem seemed to like this place, for all Zahir’s bitching. Ae just hoped ae could make it feel like a home, for the both of them.
