10th Ashan, 722.
The waters, a day or two's swim from Gunvorton, near the shore.
Night.
It was a chill night, and the young mer pressed herself against the rock to hide from the irritatingly chill wind. Her body shivered, though she had hidden most of herself in the waves so that she wasn't exposed to the wind's chill; but, the wind was an irritation and she gritted her sharp teeth because of it. Though she mostly felt the wind on her face, sometimes its chill howled wildly against the rock. When the wind howled, the waves bared their teeth at the wind, breaking their teeth on the rock, and the water sloshed down from her neck and shoulders.
Lowering herself further down into the water,so that only her eyes and the pointed tips of her ears were exposed, Areia looked around the side of the rock, into the wild wind, at the location where she knew the fisherman to live. In the dark and the chill and the quiet, she hid by the rock where the fisherman wouldn't notice her, and watched his dwelling.
The wind howled in her ears, spitters of rain fell down from the high-up howling sky, and Areia watched. The large moons, like eyes, watched too from up high, and Areia looked up at the moons
~wonderingly, for a moment~
and then looked back at the fisherman's dwelling.
It was not good for her to come here, but it was difficult not to come. There was much to do at the tribal grounds, and Areia was aware that she should not be at this location, watching and waiting~ waiting for what, she did not know.
But, she was here good or not, and she waited. The wind howled, the waves bared their teeth, breaking them on the rock, and she shivered.
The rock was cold in the night. The moons blinked from behind dark grey clouds as they moved slowly in the dark night sky, and Areia blinked in and out of awareness. It had been a long swim to come here, and it was difficult to hold so still in the senseless dark and look at the fisherman's dwelling, which was nothing but more dark in the darkness. She felt herself blinking in and out of awareness, and she dunked her face momentarily in the water to wake up.
When she looked out of the water, the fisherman's dwelling was dark in the night, and Areia let out a long, slow breath through her sharp teeth. She breathed slowly, feeling her body slow with her breaths, and pressed the side of her face to the rock, resting it there.
She blinked her eyes, looking at the darkness where she knew the fisherman lived, and wondered if the fisherman slept in that still, quiet dark.
Areia let out another long, slow breath, feeling her mind slow with her body. It was dark grey in the water when she woke. She'd slipped down into the unsleeping lull of the waves. Her face rested against the rock, down in that dark grey scape of indistinct light and shape, and she blinked groggily. Her dark hair hovered in the water near her face, partially obscuring her eyes.
Blinking, she looked up. There were things in the water with her, things that were new to her, and Areia woke. Immediately she went quiet, and she pressed her back to the rock defensively. She looked quietly, tensely, at the things. Then the tenseness went out her body, and she looked at the things in wonder and bemusement.
There were lights in the water. Little green lights, like little green eyes. If the little green lights were living, they didn't notice her. It was good not to be noticed by them, and looking at them they didn't look dangerous. But they were new to Areia, and so she pressed the back of her head against the rock and looked at the little green lights quietly.
In time, Areia determined that they were not living things~ though there was a living quality about them. She also thought that they were not a danger to her. If they were a danger, she thought they would not kill her. But maybe, she thought, they would sting her, if she touched them.
Tensely, Areia touched one of the lights with the tip of her pointed finger. The little green light danced at the movement of her arm in the water, and at the touch of her finger. But it did not sting like she'd thought, and she touched it lightly again with the tip of her finger.
It was just a light, a little green light in the water, and Areia smiled.
Who are you? she queried the light quietly, letting it dance through her fingers in the water. More of the lights danced nearby her, some of them bumping lightly into her body with the water's motion, and she smiled at their touch. Gently she cupped one of the little green lights in her hands, and then ~making a hole to look into the cup of her hands~ she looked in at it.
It was a small thing, and ~like she had thought before~ it was not living. It seemed to be a shell, though it was not like any shell she had known. It was rounded, and there was a once-living quality to it, but if it had lived before it did not live now. It was strong like a rock~ though she did not test it too vigorously with the strength of her fingers. It danced within her cupped hands, and though it was a light it did not sting and it was not warm. It might have been cool to the touch, though it was difficult to tell in the cool waters.
Areia thought about biting it with her teeth to test its strength against theirs, but ~looking at the little light dancer~ she merely uncupped her hands. The little light dancer danced out of her hands to the movement of the water, and Areia smiled.
Then, no longer smiling, she swam up the length of the rock to the waves above.
Hiding where she had hidden before in the waves, her body pressed to the rock, she looked through the dark grey at the location she knew the fisherman to live. The little light dancers bumped lightly into her body with the movement of the waves. Areia looked at the fisherman's dwelling, her tail thrashing lightly with irritation. The little light dancers tickled her body, and like before she cupped one of the dancers in her hands.
Trapped, she thought to it, where it dwelled in the trap of her hands, Trapped like the fisherman trapped me. The little light dancer danced against the inside of her cupped hands, questioning her when it touched lightly against her fingers.
Dance? If the little light dancer was able, that would be what it would question.
Areia let the little light dancer out of her cupped hands. You dance, she thought to it, You are not trapped. The fisherman trapped me in metal. You dance~ I watch him.
But, she thought to herself, looking at the fisherman's dark dwelling in the dark grey, Who is trapped, but the one who watches him? You are trapped. Areia gritted her teeth. You are trapped by him in your mind, though it has been a long time since you were in his metal trap.
No, she thought, and the grit of her sharp teeth became a display of irritation. I am not trapped. I am out. He is trapped. I watch him.
Her tail thrashed, and the little light dancers tickled her body with the thrashing. Areia said, I am not trapped!
I dance! she said to the little light dancers, and she dove deep into the water, thrashing as she dove.
Areia dove down, down to the green sand in the water, and touched her hand to the sand. The sand woke to her touch as she swam quickly along the bottom, and she dipped her hand into the cool green sand, deeper, and then abruptly spun in the water. The sand, waking, spun around her ~the lights spun around her, and danced in her wake~ and she thrashed her tail. Thrashing, she swam quickly, quickly, the little light dancers dancing in the water with her. She twisted abruptly, spinning in the water, and swam quickly up, quickly, quickly to the surface.
She broke through the gritted teeth of the waves and swam~ up into the dark grey. She twisted. Above the waves where she had broken through, her body twisted beautifully in the dance, her arms lifted high. Music lit in her mind, music that composed itself from the moment. The little light dancers, the music said. She spun once, twice~
With a hard impact she broke back through the surface. The water tested its teeth against her, biting her, and its teeth were strong. Areia was thrown out of the dance as she tumbled deep into the depths, down to the green sand at the bottom.
Hurting a bit from the water's chastising bite, Areia looked up. She looked up at the water, and though the water had bitten her, she smiled.
Above her, the little light dancers spun and twisted and tumbled in the wake of her dance, and it was beautiful. The music spun itself out in her mind when she looked at them, a twisting, varied song that dived deep and then broke high, twisting in curlicues of notes and mental impressions. It was a thrashing, difficult song one moment; but there was light and dancing, too.
I dance, she said to herself, I am not trapped.
But the rock was in the water, and if she swam up its length she would come to the waves. From there, she would be able to watch the fisherman's dwelling~ and, when he came out, she would watch the fisherman. Areia breathed, her breathing slowing, the dancing music quieting in her mind.
It was difficult for her not to come to this location, because the fisherman was like music to her. He was music that was on hold, music that was trapped. The music hovered in the back of her mind, a note that went on and on, one that time ~a long time~ did not erode.
It is not because I am trapped, Areia said, and gently cupped one of the little light dancers in her hands. It is not.
The waters, a day or two's swim from Gunvorton, near the shore.
Night.
It was a chill night, and the young mer pressed herself against the rock to hide from the irritatingly chill wind. Her body shivered, though she had hidden most of herself in the waves so that she wasn't exposed to the wind's chill; but, the wind was an irritation and she gritted her sharp teeth because of it. Though she mostly felt the wind on her face, sometimes its chill howled wildly against the rock. When the wind howled, the waves bared their teeth at the wind, breaking their teeth on the rock, and the water sloshed down from her neck and shoulders.
Lowering herself further down into the water,so that only her eyes and the pointed tips of her ears were exposed, Areia looked around the side of the rock, into the wild wind, at the location where she knew the fisherman to live. In the dark and the chill and the quiet, she hid by the rock where the fisherman wouldn't notice her, and watched his dwelling.
The wind howled in her ears, spitters of rain fell down from the high-up howling sky, and Areia watched. The large moons, like eyes, watched too from up high, and Areia looked up at the moons
~wonderingly, for a moment~
and then looked back at the fisherman's dwelling.
It was not good for her to come here, but it was difficult not to come. There was much to do at the tribal grounds, and Areia was aware that she should not be at this location, watching and waiting~ waiting for what, she did not know.
But, she was here good or not, and she waited. The wind howled, the waves bared their teeth, breaking them on the rock, and she shivered.
The rock was cold in the night. The moons blinked from behind dark grey clouds as they moved slowly in the dark night sky, and Areia blinked in and out of awareness. It had been a long swim to come here, and it was difficult to hold so still in the senseless dark and look at the fisherman's dwelling, which was nothing but more dark in the darkness. She felt herself blinking in and out of awareness, and she dunked her face momentarily in the water to wake up.
When she looked out of the water, the fisherman's dwelling was dark in the night, and Areia let out a long, slow breath through her sharp teeth. She breathed slowly, feeling her body slow with her breaths, and pressed the side of her face to the rock, resting it there.
She blinked her eyes, looking at the darkness where she knew the fisherman lived, and wondered if the fisherman slept in that still, quiet dark.
Areia let out another long, slow breath, feeling her mind slow with her body. It was dark grey in the water when she woke. She'd slipped down into the unsleeping lull of the waves. Her face rested against the rock, down in that dark grey scape of indistinct light and shape, and she blinked groggily. Her dark hair hovered in the water near her face, partially obscuring her eyes.
Blinking, she looked up. There were things in the water with her, things that were new to her, and Areia woke. Immediately she went quiet, and she pressed her back to the rock defensively. She looked quietly, tensely, at the things. Then the tenseness went out her body, and she looked at the things in wonder and bemusement.
There were lights in the water. Little green lights, like little green eyes. If the little green lights were living, they didn't notice her. It was good not to be noticed by them, and looking at them they didn't look dangerous. But they were new to Areia, and so she pressed the back of her head against the rock and looked at the little green lights quietly.
In time, Areia determined that they were not living things~ though there was a living quality about them. She also thought that they were not a danger to her. If they were a danger, she thought they would not kill her. But maybe, she thought, they would sting her, if she touched them.
Tensely, Areia touched one of the lights with the tip of her pointed finger. The little green light danced at the movement of her arm in the water, and at the touch of her finger. But it did not sting like she'd thought, and she touched it lightly again with the tip of her finger.
It was just a light, a little green light in the water, and Areia smiled.
Who are you? she queried the light quietly, letting it dance through her fingers in the water. More of the lights danced nearby her, some of them bumping lightly into her body with the water's motion, and she smiled at their touch. Gently she cupped one of the little green lights in her hands, and then ~making a hole to look into the cup of her hands~ she looked in at it.
It was a small thing, and ~like she had thought before~ it was not living. It seemed to be a shell, though it was not like any shell she had known. It was rounded, and there was a once-living quality to it, but if it had lived before it did not live now. It was strong like a rock~ though she did not test it too vigorously with the strength of her fingers. It danced within her cupped hands, and though it was a light it did not sting and it was not warm. It might have been cool to the touch, though it was difficult to tell in the cool waters.
Areia thought about biting it with her teeth to test its strength against theirs, but ~looking at the little light dancer~ she merely uncupped her hands. The little light dancer danced out of her hands to the movement of the water, and Areia smiled.
Then, no longer smiling, she swam up the length of the rock to the waves above.
Hiding where she had hidden before in the waves, her body pressed to the rock, she looked through the dark grey at the location she knew the fisherman to live. The little light dancers bumped lightly into her body with the movement of the waves. Areia looked at the fisherman's dwelling, her tail thrashing lightly with irritation. The little light dancers tickled her body, and like before she cupped one of the dancers in her hands.
Trapped, she thought to it, where it dwelled in the trap of her hands, Trapped like the fisherman trapped me. The little light dancer danced against the inside of her cupped hands, questioning her when it touched lightly against her fingers.
Dance? If the little light dancer was able, that would be what it would question.
Areia let the little light dancer out of her cupped hands. You dance, she thought to it, You are not trapped. The fisherman trapped me in metal. You dance~ I watch him.
But, she thought to herself, looking at the fisherman's dark dwelling in the dark grey, Who is trapped, but the one who watches him? You are trapped. Areia gritted her teeth. You are trapped by him in your mind, though it has been a long time since you were in his metal trap.
No, she thought, and the grit of her sharp teeth became a display of irritation. I am not trapped. I am out. He is trapped. I watch him.
Her tail thrashed, and the little light dancers tickled her body with the thrashing. Areia said, I am not trapped!
I dance! she said to the little light dancers, and she dove deep into the water, thrashing as she dove.
Areia dove down, down to the green sand in the water, and touched her hand to the sand. The sand woke to her touch as she swam quickly along the bottom, and she dipped her hand into the cool green sand, deeper, and then abruptly spun in the water. The sand, waking, spun around her ~the lights spun around her, and danced in her wake~ and she thrashed her tail. Thrashing, she swam quickly, quickly, the little light dancers dancing in the water with her. She twisted abruptly, spinning in the water, and swam quickly up, quickly, quickly to the surface.
She broke through the gritted teeth of the waves and swam~ up into the dark grey. She twisted. Above the waves where she had broken through, her body twisted beautifully in the dance, her arms lifted high. Music lit in her mind, music that composed itself from the moment. The little light dancers, the music said. She spun once, twice~
With a hard impact she broke back through the surface. The water tested its teeth against her, biting her, and its teeth were strong. Areia was thrown out of the dance as she tumbled deep into the depths, down to the green sand at the bottom.
Hurting a bit from the water's chastising bite, Areia looked up. She looked up at the water, and though the water had bitten her, she smiled.
Above her, the little light dancers spun and twisted and tumbled in the wake of her dance, and it was beautiful. The music spun itself out in her mind when she looked at them, a twisting, varied song that dived deep and then broke high, twisting in curlicues of notes and mental impressions. It was a thrashing, difficult song one moment; but there was light and dancing, too.
I dance, she said to herself, I am not trapped.
But the rock was in the water, and if she swam up its length she would come to the waves. From there, she would be able to watch the fisherman's dwelling~ and, when he came out, she would watch the fisherman. Areia breathed, her breathing slowing, the dancing music quieting in her mind.
It was difficult for her not to come to this location, because the fisherman was like music to her. He was music that was on hold, music that was trapped. The music hovered in the back of her mind, a note that went on and on, one that time ~a long time~ did not erode.
It is not because I am trapped, Areia said, and gently cupped one of the little light dancers in her hands. It is not.
Areia's little light dancers, otherwise known as sandspecks.
