Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins
Something about the motions beneath the water, the sensation of suffocating, the tremors of another world, another place, gnashed, ground, and weighed down upon her. Panic surged and seethed through her blood, and if she could’ve screamed beneath the waves she would’ve, howling and unfurling, unwinding in her apprehension, incapable of understanding how or why. She’d always been at home in the ocean. She’d always been fond of its power, of its predilections, and now she was overwhelmed, collapsing on its essence, bound into the dirges of its expanse, chest beating a siege, everything burning, burning, burning –
And then she was released, feet kicking, sputtering above the surface, water mixing with the sudden barrage of tears streaming down her face, lungs spasming, choking on much-needed air. Her palms dashed away the frenzied, hysteric range of salt, as she struggled and strived to catch her breath. “Sorry,” she winced, uncertain what she was apologizing for, because she should’ve been ready, should’ve known, should’ve understood the weight of all these things.
The girl shook her head and she could heard Fangorn calling from the shore, a handwave confirming she was all right.
But gods, she should’ve been better than that.
The sea had been a sanctum, a refuge, not a harbinger of doom, death, or destruction, and somewhere in the midst she’d forgotten, hadn’t realized, had thought herself better than its prowess. Somewhere his words were echoing, and she fought in the haze to reach for them, snatch, grab, and understand, shaking her head, clearing, clarifying.
Concentrate. She needed to concentrate.
The youth tried to adhere to what he said, but everything felt listless, as if her brain had shut down completely. A raised chin settled in for makeshift defiance, but she didn’t feel it in her bones anymore. She tried to square her feet, to reflect the motions, and garnish strength through her limbs, but it was likely lost as she attempted to launch upon his shoulders as he’d done to her.
And then she was released, feet kicking, sputtering above the surface, water mixing with the sudden barrage of tears streaming down her face, lungs spasming, choking on much-needed air. Her palms dashed away the frenzied, hysteric range of salt, as she struggled and strived to catch her breath. “Sorry,” she winced, uncertain what she was apologizing for, because she should’ve been ready, should’ve known, should’ve understood the weight of all these things.
The girl shook her head and she could heard Fangorn calling from the shore, a handwave confirming she was all right.
But gods, she should’ve been better than that.
The sea had been a sanctum, a refuge, not a harbinger of doom, death, or destruction, and somewhere in the midst she’d forgotten, hadn’t realized, had thought herself better than its prowess. Somewhere his words were echoing, and she fought in the haze to reach for them, snatch, grab, and understand, shaking her head, clearing, clarifying.
Concentrate. She needed to concentrate.
The youth tried to adhere to what he said, but everything felt listless, as if her brain had shut down completely. A raised chin settled in for makeshift defiance, but she didn’t feel it in her bones anymore. She tried to square her feet, to reflect the motions, and garnish strength through her limbs, but it was likely lost as she attempted to launch upon his shoulders as he’d done to her.
Melita
