Private Undertow

[Jael Amnen]

The shore was quiet after the banquet's clamour, the hush of waves striking softer than the voices that had filled her ears only hours ago. Jael walked where moonlight struck the water, her ornate shoes dangling from one hand, forgotten ornaments against the salt-brushed night. Sand clung to her feet, cool and damp, while the hem of her gown dragged freely across the shoreline, gathering the sea's kiss without care for its ruin.

The conversation lingered still, Cassian Abrantes' words, surprisingly polished, replayed like mantra in her mind. How curious, that one so armoured in silence carried such unexpected poetry within. She had laughed then, softly, a priestess bemused and perhaps a little captivated.

Now the tide whispered as if to remind her: such moments were fleeting. Still, she savoured the memory, silver eyes lifted to the stars as if they might etch it more deeply into the firmament.

Her breath caught. Ahead, something darker broke the gleam of the waves, a shape half-claimed by the sea.

The shoes slipped from her hand.

She was running before thought reached her lips, gown tangling around her legs, heart slamming against her ribs as the tide surged. The water parted around her knees, cold and pulling. She fell to them, hands seizing the sodden form, turning it toward the pale glow of the moon.

"Cassian."

Cassian Abrantes​

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

At first there was only the sea.

A weightless dark, the endless press and pull of waves. Cold fingers reaching, dragging him deeper, whispering for him to surrender. He was so tired, too tired to resist. Perhaps it was easier this way, to let the tide finish what steel and poison words had begun.

Then warmth.

A hand against his cheek, firm and trembling. A voice breaking through the surf. His name.

Cassian stirred, a ragged cough tearing his chest as water burned his lungs. The world flickered, stars above, silver eyes bending close, the taste of salt and blood thick in his mouth. He tried to speak, but the sound cracked and vanished, swallowed by the surf.

The sea fought to keep him, waves lapping higher, pulling at his limbs. But she pulled harder. He felt himself dragged from the sea his body heavy and uncooperative, pain flaring bright with each movement. Somewhere inside the fog of exhaustion, shame stirred, that she, a priestess, luminous and poised, should bear the weight of him like some wounded soldier hauled from a battlefield. He wasn't worth, he wasn't worth of a lot of things.....

Her voice cut through again, urgent and commanding....

"Cassian."

He wanted to obey, though every part of him cried for rest. His eyes fluttered open, just enough to see her braids plastered to her skin, beads scattering like stars in the tide. She was bent over him, fierce and desperate, a figure half-divine in the moonlight.

His lips moved, the words broken, almost inaudible. "…not…yet....I'm not ready"

It was as if hearing his name breathed life into him again. What he was, all that he was. All that he could be, his heart pulsed feeling the beating ever so vibrant now. He trembled lightly as he wrapped his arms around Jael, using her as best as he could to rise to his knees.

He looked up to her. "Thanks, thank you for answering my prayers, milady." He looked towards the shore, before looking back to her. "I need your help, just a little bit longer...."

Jael Amnen