Something Fishy This Way Comes! [Open]
ball-of-sunshine:
There was a reason swimming in the ocean was exclusively labeled as summertime activity, but only now did Chelsea truly get a sense of why that was. The first part of her body to get hit was her face, bare and defenseless against the attacks of the frigid waves. Her skin crawled as the cold pierced countless needles into it, slowly seeping through her 20-something layers of clothes until she was completely soaked in ice and salt.
Instinct thrusted her head out of the water, accompanied with a shrill pain-induced cry. Her eyes stung, making it harder for her to focus her blurry vision on the source of the voice that had inquired about her wellbeing. The sponge-like mittens covering her hands only squeezed more water into her eyes when she tried to relieve them from the salty liquid, making her let out another yelp.
“I need t-.. get outta he-” She reached out to his hand but halted, retracting it. “My fish-fishing rod-” She turned her head to the direction of the fall, but nothing was in her span of vision. It must have gotten carried away by whatever was dragging it. There was no use in dwelling on it any longer, especially not when she was starting to lose feeling in her legs.
She finally took the extended hand, applying a little more pressure than she’d liked to balance herself on her shivering legs. Her knees immediately buckled together, making standing- let alone walking- extremely hard. “Can you p-please walk me h..ome?” She couldn’t recognize his features, she realized after the aching of her eyes had subsided. It didn’t matter at that point, though. She needed to get home as fast as possible, or she might end up sleeping with the fishes.
“Come on!” he beckoned, wiggling his fingers to beg her cooperation-- taking another step into the water and letting the cold sear up his other leg, as well. Gill had been called a nag on many an occasion, and he was inclined to believe that this was somehow a virtue rather than a vice. Right now, in fact, seemed as good a situation as any to nag someone in.
The stranger seemed to arrive at the same decision quickly enough on her own, however, not quite needing him to beg her any further to abandon the fishing rod she had lost in the frigid waves-- and a second later Gill grabbed her hand firmly in his own as she extended an arm, clapped his other hand around hers, and pulled her toward shore.
She nearly buckled a moment later, and he reached an arm out to catch her-- helping her stand just long enough for her to regain her balance, and ignoring the layers of her soaked clothing pressing against him like a wet sponge. “Absolutely,” he agreed. He was now completely invested in making sure she was alright; he’d completely forgotten about the existence of the ferry, or whatever schedule it may keep.
There was a brief moment where he debated offering her his coat, but it was clear there would be no use in attempting to put yet another layer (dry or not) on top of what she was already wearing. She’d need to change if she wanted to avoid getting sick-- or worse.
“Where do you live?” Even before she’d answered, Gill had directed her away from shore - offering an arm to steady her. “Which house is yours?”
