Evie
i'll plant a row of daisy seeds
in the space beneath each eye
in the space beneath each eye
Evie can’t help a soft chuckle, flexing her toes beneath the seafoam that chills them. “Future favors hold little water from strangers,” she teases, some half-buried spark of the spitfire woman flickering weakly beneath the surface. “Mussels, however, I can barter for.” Nutritionally dense and with a variety of uses, they’re harder for Evie to harvest herself, and rare in the Grounds. It’s a fair trade.
Wandering deeper in with a bundle of seaweed already tied with twine, Evie ignores the numbness of her protesting legs in favor of the man’s curiosity. Holding out her part of the trade as she considers her response, looking past his dark shoulder to the horizon beyond. “No. I’m from the Hollowed Grounds, but travel is a necessity for ingredients not found locally.” Forcing herself to concentrate and not drift into the cottony numbness of her brain, Evie drags her eyes back to the stranger - and the way he does not rise any further from the depths. “Are you an Attuned, then? I’m afraid I’ve never met a merman before if you’re not, though I’ve heard of your people by now.” There’s no point in trying for awkward, polite shuffling around the subject. And, assuming he takes the seaweed, she extends a hand; prim, poised, perfectly trained. Her heart isn’t in it, though it never was in her lessons either. “I’m Evie. Evie Wordsworth.”
The last.
Wandering deeper in with a bundle of seaweed already tied with twine, Evie ignores the numbness of her protesting legs in favor of the man’s curiosity. Holding out her part of the trade as she considers her response, looking past his dark shoulder to the horizon beyond. “No. I’m from the Hollowed Grounds, but travel is a necessity for ingredients not found locally.” Forcing herself to concentrate and not drift into the cottony numbness of her brain, Evie drags her eyes back to the stranger - and the way he does not rise any further from the depths. “Are you an Attuned, then? I’m afraid I’ve never met a merman before if you’re not, though I’ve heard of your people by now.” There’s no point in trying for awkward, polite shuffling around the subject. And, assuming he takes the seaweed, she extends a hand; prim, poised, perfectly trained. Her heart isn’t in it, though it never was in her lessons either. “I’m Evie. Evie Wordsworth.”
The last.
so they'll remind you of your beauty
when they bloom each time you cry
when they bloom each time you cry
