with quiet words I'll lead you in

Would you stay with me, here in my dreams
If I promised you this heaven?

As a transplant from Stormbreak, Callum has loved the white sand beaches of Torchline for as long as he's lived here. It's so unlike anything back in the city - so bright, so full of color and light and life - that it draws him in, time and again. He comes here often, whether it is to walk or to think or anything in between.

Today is no different. It's midday, and the blue skies above mirror the crystalline waves that crash against the sand. The mercenary walks along the shore, hands in the pockets of his swim trunks, an unbuttoned shirt flowing in the sea breeze. There are more people than normal, but he supposes that's to be expected, given the influx of refugees from Stormbreak. He's helped as much as he can since they arrived; they remind him of himself, when he was young and looking for somewhere to belong.

He doesn't look for his parents among the crowds. Or at least that's what he tells himself. He hopes they made it out safely, of course, but they have never approved of his choices. Of him. It's easier for everyone if he stays away.

So it's to the beach he goes, and as the sun crests high in the sky, he wades into the shallows, waiting for the brine to wash away his sins.

Would you take a chance on a make believe dance?
Close my eyes and we're together

Callum

never be so kind you forget to be clever

If Callum were paying close enough attention, he might notice the waves behaving oddly just ahead of him—splashes that don’t match the rhythm of the tide, droplets suspended too long in the air before falling, like the ocean itself is hesitating. And then, just as he wades forward with the slow, meditative steps of a man trying to let go of something heavy, a hand catches lightly at his arm.

Warm fingers close with a touch that means no harm, but that might startle nonetheless.

"Don’t panic," comes a voice from nowhere and everywhere, light with laughter and unmistakably amused. "Sorry for the interruption, but you were about to bodycheck me. Not that it’s your fault, obviously—kind of hard to avoid someone who’s invisible."

The words hang in the air like the lingering fizz of champagne, and then the shimmer of light gives her away—just slightly. The waves lap differently where she stands, and if he follows the sound of her voice, he might start to make out the faintest distortion, a mirage’s shimmer catching sun and salt.

Would you stay with me, here in my dreams
If I promised you this heaven?

Sometimes, Callum pays attention to his surroundings - enough that, on a normal day, he might have noticed the way the waves splashed strangely just ahead of him, the way droplets of water hang on the sea breeze just a hair longer than they should. But today, he's at home on the beach, and he's distracted, and that gets the better of him - enough so that, when an invisible hand catches lightly at his arm, he jumps.

A disembodied voice raises the hair on the back of his neck, and he's halfway to a fighting stance before the words catch up with him. Then he huffs a laugh, though the tension doesn't quite leave his body just yet. He looks in the direction of the voice, as though he should be able to see someone there. "I don't think I've ever had the pleasure of having a conversation with an invisible person before," he muses. "Do you have a name, or would you prefer that to remain a mystery as well?'

Would you take a chance on a make believe dance?
Close my eyes and we're together

Callum

never be so kind you forget to be clever

There’s a bright splash as Flora takes a few careful steps backward in the water, the waves parting and collapsing in odd little crescents around her ankles. "Whoa.." she says with a low, amused laugh, her voice edged with mirth but also caution, like someone trying to soothe a startled animal. "Didn’t think a little arm tap would summon your inner gladiator."

His tension doesn’t go unnoticed—she’s half a heartbeat from going fully visible, just in case—but when his voice steadies into something more playful, she remains hidden. There’s a mischievous hum as she lets the silence stretch, only the sea and his own thoughts to fill the gap. "Not often invited to invisible conversations, huh?" she muses, clearly entertained. "Shame."

A pause, deliberate and teasing. "Well...if you're feeling particularly clever, you could try and guess who I am?" The light shimmers where she stands, a ripple that flickers across his peripheral vision like heat off stone. "Here’s a hint: I know who you are."

Would you stay with me, here in my dreams
If I promised you this heaven?

Callum grins in response to the gentle teasing that comes from midair. The disembodied voice has a point - but with everything going on these days, who can blame a guy for being a little jumpy? "Sorry 'bout that," he says easily, tension draining from his frame as he relaxes into the conversation. "Can't ever be too careful."

The light shimmers in his peripheral vision, like ripples flickering across the surface of a still pond, but try as he might, he can't see more than that. The voice, though - it sounds female, and vaguely familiar - like someone he might have heard speak at one time or another, but only in passing or perhaps from a distance. He doesn't think it's someone he's officially met before.

But if she knows who he is, then she has ears around Torchline. Someone higher up, then. Someone who doesn't want to be seen. Someone in hiding? "Hmm," he says as he puzzles it out. "You're hiding in broad daylight, which suggests you either have an invisibility kink of some kind or you don't want to be seen. Which would be strange, for most people. But for someone who knows who I am, maybe you're invisible because you learn a lot from listening."

He squints at the space where the voice is coming from. "But why would you know who I was, unless you're someone hiding from me - which, honestly, would be impressive, given that I don't have any female marks right now - or you're familiar with what I do, which, again - suggests you have ears everywhere, because I don't exactly advertise in neon." He pauses. "Am I close?"

Would you take a chance on a make believe dance?
Close my eyes and we're together

Callum

never be so kind you forget to be clever

A sultry hum of amusement floats from nowhere and everywhere all at once, lilting over the sound of the surf like seafoam teasing the shore. “Mmh—no invisibility kink,” Flora replies with a playful sigh, just loud enough to be heard above the hush of the waves. “I like being seen far too much. And I do work quite hard to keep myself worth looking at.” There’s a grin in her voice, flirtation edged with laughter, like gold glitter catching light.

He puzzles aloud, but she only lets the silence stretch for a moment before she picks it apart with silk-threaded mischief. “Maybe you’re my mark,” she purrs, lazy and unbothered, as though the idea were both a joke and a real possibility. “And I’m just doing my homework.”

Then something featherlight and cool brushes along the back of his bare shoulders—fingertips, unmistakably—and her voice follows, lower now, a velvet purr that dances along his skin just like her invisible touch. “You’re not necessarily close,” she admits, lips curving around the words, “but you are hot.” A cheeky emphasis, a smirk she knows he can’t see, but can hopefully hear.

Would you stay with me, here in my dreams
If I promised you this heaven?

The invisible voice is amused - and Cal grins in response, entirely unbothered by the fact that he hasn't managed to guess the woman's identity. Perhaps someone else would continue to try and puzzle it out, but all he knows is that she sounds fun. And maybe, for now, that's enough for him.

Something light brushes the back of his shoulders, and he pauses, trying to determine the direction she's moving, attempting to calculate her trajectory even though he can't see her. And when she speaks again, he laughs - a low, pleased sound - as he spins, attempting to grab at where he thinks the voice's arm might be lingering in the air. If he succeeds, he'll tug her closer, hoping to feel for the rest of her - and, maybe, for any hints as to her identity. "And you are a tease," he says playfully. "Not that I'm complaining." This is, after all, the most fun he's had in weeks.

Would you take a chance on a make believe dance?
Close my eyes and we're together

Callum

never be so kind you forget to be clever

He won’t find fabric beneath his hands—only the smooth, sun-warmed skin of her waist, the faint trace of salt from the sea still clinging to her like a memory. Her body curves into the contact with instinctive ease, a hum of laughter vibrating low in her throat as he draws her close. "Mmm, guilty," she agrees, the word a grin wrapped in silk. "But for what it’s worth, I’ve never been accused of false advertising." Her voice is breathless with amusement now, playful and bright, like sunlight refracted through sea glass. "A tease, yes—but I’m also known for my follow-through."

Still unseen, she tips her head back slightly, her curls no doubt brushing against his chest even if he can’t see them. "You've got quite a decent grip," Flora notes as she laughs again, playfully peeling herself away.

Would you stay with me, here in my dreams
If I promised you this heaven?

Callum's grasp is gentle as he wraps his invisible companion closer. "Follow-through is important," he says seriously, though his eyes twinkle with mischief. He means it, of course - in his line of business, it's vital to deliver on one's promises. But this little game that they play isn't quite so consequential. "I'd be very curious to see what that entails." And to see the woman toying with him, but she doesn't seem inclined to show herself.

Her hair brushes against his chest, but then she's peeling herself away with a bright laugh. Cal lets her go, grinning. "Surely I can do better than 'decent,'" he muses. "Perhaps I can show you sometime."

Would you take a chance on a make believe dance?
Close my eyes and we're together

Callum

never be so kind you forget to be clever

Flora laughs, the sound bright and sparkling as sea spray, echoing across the shallows like sunlight catching on water. "I'm inclined to agree," she calls about follow through, and just as he might try to follow her voice, a playful splash of water arcs through the air—just enough to hit his shins.

Stepping up onto firmer sand where the tide doesn’t betray her steps so easily, Flora grins invisibly. "Perhaps you can," her voice teases from further away now, each word lilting and warm, "if you can figure out who I am."

There’s laughter again, low and amused and vanishing with the wind as she strolls up the shoreline, her presence dissipating like mist beneath the sun—leaving only the hum of waves, the memory of fingertips on skin, and the lingering promise of a mystery yet unsolved.

~FIN