Thinking about Eva Stratt, stranded within a deep, ebony ocean.
She's wading in silence, barely staying afloat as she navigates upon a choppy path. She knows where she's going, and she knows it's not towards safety.
Occasionally, a wave will form bigger than the others, and Stratt will grimace but let it overcome her, saltwater seeping between her lips. The taste is foul, and instinct tells her to cough it up. She swallows it down, hands shoveling against the surrounding water with just a little more fervour to compensate, as that spill settles into her stomach and weighs her down ever so slightly.
She's used to the feeling of it, but that does little to ever change the awful taste staining her tongue.
A spherical buoy now drifts beside her. She drifts along with it, not reaching out to touch but letting it do as it pleased. It didn't deserve to be thrown out here. She did nothing to throw it back.
Time passes, and the buoy gradually inches closer. So slow, she almost doesn't notice that it has grown into her peripheral. She doesn't look at it, but she doesn't look away. Her only movement is pushing along the beaten path that she knows.
The buoy follows, almost content. Stratt dislikes that its gentle bobbing calms her, and that she subconsciously keeps it within the corner of her eye. The buoy distracts her with its bright colours, glaring red and a black top. She is reminded of a fox's snout.
Stratt feels herself stop. Humanity overtakes her and she lunges for the buoy. But then duty kicks in and stuns her frozen, her pruned fingers just grazing over the smooth surface of the buoy. It doesn't move, but her hand slips anyway, and she gulps down a throatful of seawater through gritted teeth, ignoring every nerve that screamed to splutter and throw it up. Her stomach churns worse than it ever had before, and she doesn't know why. Her body still sinks the same with its newfound mass.
She doesn't blame the buoy for standing still. She doesn't resent it for trying to help. How could she?
Stratt continues wading, the buoy follows again. Closer, to her dismay. She hates that she doesn't want to let it out of her sight, even knowing the consequences. It appears sympathetic, and her heart aches. She should have tossed it away as soon as it had arrived. She still could. But she doesn't.
Because it tempts her, and she can't help clinging to that. With its inviting colours, and the way it reflects in the murky water, making the ocean seem almost... shallow. Escapable.
Her lips part to say something. A towering wave slams against her and makes her ears ring. Whatever she intends to utter is drowned within the near fatal volume of water that pours into her lungs. She thinks this might be it.
The buoy shines ethereally above residue seafoam. She's still drifting along her chosen path, but the buoy floats in the opposite direction now. She cannot help herself. With all the strength she has left, sputtering and choking, she swims towards it, arms swinging around the rubber before it can make its own way.
She's never meant to reach the end of her path, she's made peace with that. She's meant to sink slowly, until she drowns at the finish line. But the buoy... the buoy has every chance to save someone else. Everyone else.
Stratt doesn't want to let go. She doesn't want to let him go.
Wordless, sobless tears tap softly against the buoy's surface. Though she supposes it all still looks like seawater, for the buoy. That makes it worse.
The last ounce of her stamina is used to hurl the buoy away from her. It would be drawn to help anyone and everyone else, she hopes with everything she has. God willing.
The buoy is still in the air when she finally sinks beneath the ocean surface. It isn't peaceful, and she wishes she had kept the buoy at a safer distance. She wishes that she hadn't slipped so many times, and filled her lungs so early. But, of course, she couldn't bear to imagine herself immune to it. She deserves to drown, and she thanks God that she's the only one.
Still, what a shame, that life on Earth needs so much water to survive.
