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An expectant gaze lingered and Seraphine recalled the first time Asher had offered the gift of closeness. A hand to hold in the wake of an old wound’s reopening. The subsequent nights of quiet company’s comfort, retelling of long days, new photographs adorning a table, brief glimpses into the complexities of lives before an inviting wave from a fire escape. Stories in the shape of birthdays and hometowns. Old friends and rescued cats.

He spoke and she recognized the whisper from many moons ago, the same quiet reservation from a tired giant sprawled on a couch across the hall. Asher hadn’t said it, yet all Seraphine heard was please stay and she nodded, slow at first. “Okay,” she agreed, the pad of her thumb drifting over the hollow of his cheek. “Okay,” she repeated almost entirely to herself, as though two syllables were all that she required to gather courage enough to present an offer that still felt too much like an imposition. Diametrically opposed to skillfully crafted openings for retreat she’d perfected over three and a half decades.

“Well, um,” Seraphine began, gaze falling somewhere near his hip as fingers trailed along the strong line of his jaw until they met only air and fell to her side again. It took several breaths to force lips to form the words though she knew what she planned to say. Seraphine could not shake the final throes of fear; the thought that were she to continue there would be no turning back. She could still offer a clean way out, but it was with a sudden, sharp realization Seraphine dared to venture on. “We can go check on Billy and I’ll stay there—with you—or you can stay here.” She looked up again, the beginnings of a smile shimmering somewhere beneath a retreating cloud of uncertainty. “As long as you don’t mind Bastien making a bunch of noise in the kitchen, that is.”

A place filled with warmth and immeasurable niceness he never believed to find in a world like theirs no longer felt like something birthed by blind hope, like something pitifully impossible. A place with the glowing illumination of the moon, a place he almost thought could be like home. It felt like an eternity since the night they’d met, the night she, for the first time, had allowed him to find her beyond the veil of a blinding illusion, all this fabricated sunshine that, so he thought, had never complimented her. 

Moonlight has always suited you better. It makes you seem more like yourself. 

He could still remember writing the closing lines of a birthday letter not too long ago and how he had resisted the overwhelming urge to retrieve it before she could find it, sitting on her doorstep inside an envelope, next to an orchid. Now, he was somehow glad he had not caved, given in to the sudden rush of insecurity, even if only for her to know the extent of his appreciation for all that she was. 

And yet, Asher found himself treading the fine line of mellow uncertainty, bordering on foolish nervousness to overstep boundaries. Even her touch, gentle fingertips tracing the line of his jaw, her thumb trailing the hollow of his cheek, was barely proven to be enough to loosen the coil, that sat on the periphery of emotions. Seraphine spoke and the ghost of a smile stole its place against his lips. Trouble found him in the struggle of a definite answer, a plain Yes or an unmistakable No. The unspoken I don’t mind either way buried by the way he temporarily lowered his gaze and tilted his head slightly, as though trying to look in the door’s direction. Another beat was filled with patient contemplation before Asher spoke. “I mean ... I guess Billy does miss you.” After all, it indeed had been a while. 

[sophrps]

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Moonlight’s glow on the floorboards had shifted in the time since Asher had arrived and Seraphine struggled to ignore wandering thoughts. Questions of what time it must be and how close they’d come to the quiet shifting of an imposing figure down the hall. If Bastien would hear the soft whispers or space filled by quiet laughter in the waxing light of day, invade the peace so carefully crafted between two people for whom moonlight was a salve. A reminder that loneliness was finally a fleeting concern.

Seraphine closed her eyes, lifting her chin as though basking in invisible sunlight, and thought how lovely Asher was. His reserved smiles freely given with laughs like wind tapping against a windowpane. How he smelled like lemongrass and sleep and how she liked him close most of all. Didn’t want him to leave. A smile spread slowly like a forgotten memory and Seraphine waited before allowing lashes to part, her gaze stilling somewhere on the ceiling over Asher’s head. Breath swirled in lungs, stagnating for a moment before the quiet of her voice dared disturb the silence again.

“I used to love sunrise,” Seraphine admitted softly. Sunrise had once meant safety and hope; an end to nights full of terror, but Seraphine wasn’t afraid of the night anymore. Preferred it. “Now it always means goodbye.” Somewhere wrapped in the somber tone that invaded her eyes as she looked at Asher hid a confession of which she was not entirely cognizant. Unaware of how she refused to craft a perfect out where she might have months ago. The subdued melancholy of the cessation of the single happiest memory Seraphine had crafted weighed down the corners of her lips, though the pull persisted the longer she looked up at Asher. Couldn’t help but smile. Seraphine still liked her days better with him in them and would until all the stars fell from the sky. Perhaps far beyond.

The silken sound of her voice furled itself around the words she spoke, the words with which she disrupted eternal peacefulness that lay in the quiet that had spread like a salve. Asher failed to notice quickly enough, how his gaze continuously lingered on her collar first, the fabric that creased around the curve of her shoulder second. With a second’s delay, he raised his eyes and angled his chin to cast a gentle gaze at her. I used to love sunrise. Drinking up her words, he knew in an instant she was haunted by the very same discontented thoughts that had crawled from their graves inside his head, not too long ago. Now it always means goodbye, and he received swift confirmation of the sheer fact. 

A nod was all he could offer immediately, his gaze traveling never too far from the endless oceanic blue of her eyes. He wondered if she’d still enjoy his company in the unforgiving daylight when the sun stood high up in the sky above New York City’s skyline. If its bright illumination would be proven enough to expose how far the rubble and the ash reached, how high the brickwork around his heart had been built. And then Asher remembered how melancholy and viciousness used to be riptides, while calmness had now lessened the waves’ impact. At the very least, ever since he had a night-time companion. Someone who understood. 

Nodding, as though to admit he understood and shared the sentiment, he looked at her and allowed another moment of silence to fold around them before he spoke. “It was my favorite part of the day.” A shrug. “I guess it felt like I was given another shot to, um ... I don’t know, make things right, I guess.” The longer he spoke, the quieter his voice became and he must suddenly look almost unsure. “But now--” Trailing off, he averted his gaze to where the record player stood and the music ceased, the crackling of static taking its place. And suspiciously, the words unspoken implied the sound of It doesn’t always have to mean goodbye. 

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It was a small smile that grew on the outskirts of a crestfallen expression as she looked up at him, the quiet disbelief sitting atop her lashes. Aegir could not remember the last time he’d bestowed divinity upon anyone, thousands of years before The Accords, if at all. Perhaps once in his divine infancy, bestowed the rite and cultivated a lone prophet unlike the Greeks and their cities and devotional temples. His smile grew. “Of course you. Most divine favor is a fickle thing and not all Gods can do it. It is attuned to a specific being and remains intact only for the devoted and good hearted. My favor will be for someone, a mermaid, to find me and bring me home and so long as whomsoever has been passed the divinity is good natured and does so, the favor remains intact. Kind of like creating a High Priestess or Divine Prophet.” Aegir shrugged slightly. “It won’t work with just anyone,” he explained, lowering his voice and canting his gaze to more clearly look at the mermaid. “But I know it will with you, Josephina.”  Aegir looked over his shoulders again to remain eternally aware of their surroundings, found no one close enough to pay them mind and nodded at her words. “Perhaps I should explain in more depth what it means and you can contemplate what you would like to ask of me at a later date.”

The offer lingered in the air, dancing through humidity slowly before he spoke again. “I am a God of the sea as you know. Glaciers, tides, storms, volcanoes, earthquakes, and the like are what most know me for. Sea magicks and healing of sea-bound creatures also come to me when at home, among other things, but a list is hardly necessary.” Aegir raised his eyebrows wondering if he could even recall all the wonders in his control having been away from home for centuries. Resolved not to think on it. “Divine favor would link you to me, allow you to utilize a God’s gifts to perform your own miracles. Like praying for a miracle, but instead of waiting on an answer, you can just do it yourself or ask me directly.” He offered a laugh like an earthquake. “It sounds silly, I know, but keeping you, and whoever else in the future, safe to ensure I don’t abandon the children of the sea again seems it might be a fair trade.” The ground beneath his feet shifted and Aegir felt an arctic wind coil up his spine. “I can,” he paused, gaze falling to her necklace. “I can bestow it on your necklace, if you’d like. So you won’t need to make a decision right now, but will still be able to talk to me whenever you wish.”

His awe-inspiring presence proved to resist the loosening the shackles of vertigo’s light traces on her periphery and Josephina struggled to recall the last time she’d felt this overwhelmed with the gravity of something so divine. Aegir’s words were trailed by the most subtle hollow of echoes, drew fine lines behind them as his voice latched onto precisely enunciated phonemes. She listened intently, eagerly, as he spoke of his divine favor, how a mermaid should be destined to find him once anew, once the cruel cycle repeated itself. A soundless gasp for air followed the utterance of her name from the God’s lips and she fought to keep her head angled to look at him. Lips were still slightly parted and there was no worry if she looked dumbfounded in this holy lecture. And after an offer was placed in the air between them, the breeze having long drifted far from where they stood, their heads ducked as though in efforts of concocting an elaborate scheme (and perhaps they were, she thought), Josephina was rendered unmoving for the duration of a fragile moment. Then, she nodded, slowly but with conviction, an affirmative hum all she could produce in response. 

And once more, she nodded, reminded of her mother’s retellings of the ancient tales surrounding the Gods and their boundless sacredness, while not even her mother could have known of how far their cruelty extended. He elaborated and she thought, again, how well he explained things, how easy it was to understand. Josephina shivered beneath the stout resonance of his laugh but a smile was quick to latch onto her lips and lift the gloomy shadows from her expression, though the smallest residues of disbelief refused to vanish alongside them. “It doesn’t sound silly.” Small words sounded meek though the curve of her lips and she shook her head lightly. The way his eyes descended to the piece of jewelry hanging from her neck sobered her expression, something more somber merging into the sunlight pouring from hazel eyes. “Would it work?” A genuine question was posed in the broad daylight and she felt a sudden and strange sense of child-like guilt. “You see, this, ehm ... It’s actually my mother’s. She never explained to me how it works but it’s the reason I can move on land.” She didn’t use the word enchantment but thought that perhaps he knew the workings of magic she was far from comprehending. Wondered how much Aegir may remember. 

[sophrps]

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Hopeful. Unabashedly and near-always hopeful, Seraphine found a comfort only afforded by the warm caress of safety tucked away against Asher’s chest and thought everyone had been wrong. Hope wasn’t an exercise in futility and the proof lie in the way Asher still held onto her. Still cradled her neck in his hand. To remain hopeful and kind in the face of life’s eternal cruelty was discipline. Deliberate. An act of unparalleled bravery that left room enough in a war-torn heart for something beautiful even when there were no guarantees.

Asher posed a question like a statement and Seraphine closed her eyes, nodding gently though it was hardly needed. “Yeah,” she hummed. “I’m okay, though.” Seraphine was accustomed to exhaustion and the weight of sleeplessness, knew she could fight through it and see the other side if she chose, but he made it infinitely easier to acquiesce. She wasn’t afraid, had no thoughts clouding the space between an inhabited temporality and the siren call of slumber, and the freedom weighed heavily on lashes.

Seraphine unfurled from her place resting against the fabric of his shirt and leaned back slightly, hands finding the edge of the table behind her. Cerulean caught at his collar for several moments while Seraphine willed herself awake again. She looked up at him and scoffed at herself in mock annoyance. “I’m practically always tired, anyway.” She’d become accustomed to it and knew Asher understood insomnia’s companionship. After all, they had never shared a moment under the unforgiving glow of daylight. Always awake to greet the children of Nyx, instead.

Time was running out, though the horizon beyond the bridge and a shimmering skyline were still painted a dark hue. Asher anticipated the breaking of shadows in the sky, the dying of a million little lights, with fine threads of dread, subtle unwillingness to surrender to the inevitable. He wondered what it would take to end the pulse of time, bring the arms on the face of a clock to a halt, and exist freely, unconditionally, in a liminal space with no expectations or consequences. What it would take to keep this moment safe in the palm of his hand. 

Many sleepless nights had drawn incessant shadows below cerulean eyes and he barely even knew, his reflection a distant memory from darker days. He had memorized fatigue, tiredness an extended part of him, and a stout thread of keen gratitude reached across the fire escape’s expanse, reached for her. Thankful to have someone to share those small night-time sympathies with, the burden lessening in this liminal space which her company opened up. Thankful for her, now and likely for an eternity more.

Seraphine affirmed his statement, silently at first and then with few words clouded in a gentle hum. A small distance more, broke them further from one another as she leaned back. And though the most minor of changes, a truly minuscule adjustment, it was enough for Asher to abandon touch, his hands falling slowly from their previous resting place. His smile grew briefly and another too-gentle chuckle came out nearly entirely devoid of sound. I’m practically always tired, anyway, she said and in the cloak of silence that shrouded his mind, a response remained unspoken. So am I, though the words’ daft pointlessness, he kept to himself.  So endless quiet pooled at the bottom of his lips and the lowering of his gaze the sole shift noticeable. 

[sophrps]

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Blissful quiet had been an anomaly spanning several years, obscuring the memory of shivering limbs huddled under a bedroom window in menacing silence. It had always meant anguish and terror, though, presently, Seraphine could not recall why. Attention had not slipped to all those horrid thoughts that kept her company under the dark blanket of midnight. Could not recall the biting pain in her abdomen and its white line scar or the smell of gin pooling in old carpet; neither the flutter of falling paper, nor the earth shattering silence made their nightly appearance either. The world was filled with Asher, only Asher, and Seraphine was eternally grateful for the simple miracle of his existence.

His fingers drifted over her hair and Seraphine could not bring herself to move a single inch. Breath slowed and her smile remained, eyes closed, hints of a familiar place settling atop her senses one by one. She had forgotten exhaustion, left it somewhere in the pot of an orchid before Asher had arrived at her window, but it came flooding back as a final reminder of her mortal coil. The sensation lingered in pin pricks at her ankles, dissipating after several prolonged moments of quiet annoyance.

Seraphine instinctively nudged his nose with hers before pulling away far enough to turn, cover her mouth, and yawn. Tired eyes fluttered open and she wiped away the saltwater pooling in her tear ducts, couldn’t help but smile softly up at Asher before closing the distance between them to settle against him. Seraphine rested her head on his shoulder, nestled her face in the curve of his neck, and still said absolutely nothing. Could not have found the words if she’d tried. 

The bellowing of deep-rooted regrets was a horrid sound, the endless expanse of sins and the burdens he carried extending farther than Asher would ever like to admit. He had barely noticed the gradual change, the shift toward niceness, could hardly even say he was already on the other side of things. A side where the downpours might still pose a destructive threat, though no longer held venom strong enough to render him immobile and unfold a blanket of numbness around his tall frame. Where, if he could believe and reaffirm the steady conviction of a kindred soul in his corner, the future might not be so very bad after all. Hope was fragile, tied to hesitance and caution and for the first time, Asher thought a leap of faith might just be worth it.

He knew what it meant to trust and be trusted, breathe a little more freely. Knew to find tenderness in the little things even more so than he once had and Asher struggled to think of someone he’d rather be with. The incessant itch below his skin began to vanish and ease as the moon slid across the sky to make way for the purifying light of morning sun. Still, he was unsure how much longer they had until sunlight would pour from the horizon and douse the sky in a gradient of blues. Still, Asher could not spare one thought to bestow on such infinitesimal concerns.

The brush of her nose elicited a small smile to hover above his lips, her yawn producing a near soundless chuckle. And as he looked at her, his expression melted into something much softer than before, one hand coming to rest near the nape of her neck. She brought herself closer, her head soon finding rest against his shoulder and neck and he allowed some more beats to pass, another drawn-out moment of quiet to sit in the minimal space between them. “You’re tired, hm?” His whisper moved between a statement and a question, his smile however unwavering. 

[sophrps]

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The full moon’s wan glow flooded memories of a night spent in solitude, cool breeze dancing across bare legs as she sat in the window, her quiet melody a salve for boundless loneliness; a serenade for Nyx and the ever-present hum on city streets below; and a lullaby for a kind neighbor, though she was certain he could never have known. She recalled fries and the delightful meanderings of a cat standing atop her lap to compose a melody of his own. And Seraphine remembered Asher in all his iterations. Held in the stunning sapphire of his eyes and the way he buried his face in the crook of his elbow. A mind’s brief wanderings brought immediately into the present by the relentless torrent of wings beneath ribs and the warmth of his lips as Asher leaned in.

In an instant, the world fell silent and Seraphine’s mind emptied itself of all residual thoughts. Knew only the pressure of fingers through strands of unraveling gold and the comfort of tender reciprocity, codification of a moment’s vulnerability. Seraphine could not tell if she still touched the ground or if they were suspended in darkness over the city. Couldn’t bring herself to care. Asher had managed to untangle the threads of a tattered tapestry, placing them at her feet, one by one, to weave anew and Seraphine found she liked the beginnings of this image better.

Moments strung together like constellations into a welcome eternity before Seraphine noticed cold wood beneath her toes or how she’d shifted, held him tighter. It was a gradual adjustment, the stilling of movement, and Seraphine pulled away only far enough to allow for breath to find home in lungs. She refused to release intertwined lashes or move a single inch and remained motionless except for the smile that grew slowly. Didn’t dare speak.

To walk in the land of the blind for many years had taken its toll and the scars were likely to remain forevermore. He was thankful for the absence of verbalized notice, the inevitable reopening. She had never displayed malice, never demanded a sacrifice and her unending well of tenderness was astonishing, still. It was evident in the calmness of oceans sleeping inside her eyes, the moonlight she radiated, and the care placed in every deliberate touch and word. Cruelty was boundless in a world as tarnished as theirs and he wondered how she’d gone with all the ghosts of an unthinkable past trailing her and every step she took. Wondered of fate’s reasoning for bestowing all this burden on someone like her.

For a split second, Asher wondered if she, as she kissed him, could taste the ash from all the little fires he’d set to himself and the rubble of his mind’s ruins. The lingering smoke of too many cigarettes and the depths of boundless regret. Wondering if she sensed the gradual ease and lifting of these unfortunate miseries in exchange for something better. Something cautiously hopeful. Something that he could only wish involved her. 

Vertigo came creeping in, shallow and on the outskirts of his perception as reality caught up with him and Seraphine held him tighter before eventually pulling away. The distance created was almost infinitesimally small and yet cold filled whatever space kept them apart. A lungful of air he breathed in, as though courage had to be gathered to open his eyes. Though lids remained shut, the descent of long fingers down the trail of gold the only movement detectable. 

[sophrps]

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The weight of confession drained from broad shoulders as he looked at her, realized how frighteningly somber he must look—how the residual fury rumbled in his chest and he hoped he hadn’t frightened her with his candor. Hadn’t heard her small gasp over the whirlpools in his ears or the volcanic hum behind his eyes, but he caught the way she grasped at the pendant again. Could almost swim through the sorrow in her eyes. Bastien parted his lips to speak, to utter apologies for the cruelty of offering sobering truth knowing most were unequipped to carry, but her whisper stopped him and vertigo threatened to pull him beneath the surface of consciousness. His fingertips burned, eyes slamming shut for a single moment.

Irises of bright blue caught in a sudden, unnatural luminescence as the air around him became thick and humid, filled with salt of the sea and a breeze wet the side of his face with sea spray. He forced a laugh filled to the brim with surprise, the sound pouring over his lips with saccharine astonishment. How odd. How lovely. The hand that had been resting in his pocket now stilled in front of his chest as suspended pomegranate seeds swirled above his palm, their fuchsia intertwined with clear ocean water. “Haven’t heard someone say that name in a long time,” Aegir smiled. Hundreds of years. “Wasn’t sure anyone still knew it.” His shimmering gaze marveled at the spinning seeds, watched as they found their way back into the fruit, sewed in place by threads of seawater. Finally looking up at Josephina, he nodded once. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Aegir.”

Stillness followed the whispering of his name and guilt wafted over her and Josephina thought she should apologize. Ask for forgiveness for uttering the very name she remembered from her mother’s retellings of the old Gods’ tales. A mystical entity, as ancient as wise. She had never quite deemed the stories to be factual, had always believed them to be mere phantasms, a reason for those lost and meandering on winding paths through the long dark to refrain from losing the hope their hearts had once harbored. And she remembered the whispers, rumors they had been forsaken by the Gods’ noble graces, and her hazel eyes were wide as she looked at the man. Bastien. Aegir.

Salt and seawater, the eternal breeze above undulating waves and a sense of unease unraveled, draped itself across her heart. The very same nervousness when a storm was bubbling up across her oceanic home’s vast expanse. Vertigo seized her and her vision blurred until all she saw were his eyes. Only as deep red seeds danced above his palm alongside the ocean’s water did she avert her eyes to study the magic unfolding in front of her. As he spoke, she hoisted her gaze and anxieties began to dissipate beneath his smile. The seeds of a fruit she still held were forgotten, the seawater which had danced atop his open palm now a faint memory and Josephina blinked in an attempt to will the dizziness gone. “You’re real.” Her voice was still merely a whisper, meek and small and she took half a step back, before she continued, barely louder this time. “My mother shared the old tales with me. Some of my people believe you’re gone. They say you’ve forgotten about us.”

[sophrps]

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Static crackle of an old favorite sounded less and less like the idealized memories of a child the longer Asher kept her close, his fingers threaded through gold failing to remain in its braided home. Senses overtaken by first frost and Christmas spices. Clean linens and fresh bread. How odd it was to watch memory rewrite itself in real time; associations shifting until Lady in Satin bore the distinction of Seraphine’s favorite once more. Only now, melancholy memories of tar and the unforgiving wood of a piano bench were flooded by moonlight.

Seraphine watched as his smile grew, acquiescing to the warm hum beneath her ribs and the palpable wonder of having been the source of something so phenomenal. The way his expression laced itself through the resonance of quiet words, sent a spiral of silver down her spine, coming to rest in the balls of her feet. It was small, the laugh that skipped around in her chest, an altogether new and unfamiliar happiness lingering in bright eyes. Seraphine thought how unlikely it was she had ever been adored without blinding radiance—how she could recall only a handful of moments anyone had claimed anything close—and how she hoped, without it, she would be enough.

The limited space between them was not difficult to traverse, though Seraphine did so slowly and with a cautious intentionality. She lifted onto the balls of her feet, ever so slightly; just enough to press her forehead to his and remain precisely there for a moment. Closed her eyes and hoped, still, she was enough. Fingers released the fabric of his shirt, carving a path for palms to settle against his back, and Seraphine smiled as she braved the final inch of distance, lifting her chin to kiss him.

Fitting into his skin a little better, gradually coming to terms with a past that had been less than kind. All of it, he attributed to being in her company, where there was no place for fear of judgment, and anxiety and the haunting ghosts of unforgiving suspicion were superfluous. And he knew it may not always wear a pretty guise, the slow betterment of himself and subsequent lessening of self-destructive behaviors, and he could only suspect the calmness of the waters they treaded to last so long. The rubble still sat somewhere within him. Asher could still feel the stones weighing heavy inside his chest. Though none of that would be a tangible concern inside his mind, Seraphine and pallid moonlight all he knew.

The distance between them shrunk as she hoisted herself onto the balls of her feet. It was a slow progression, small steps to bridge the small space between them with an innocent touch. She leaned her forehead against his and sheltered her eyes from his sight. It was another beat, another breath until he once more, mirrored her movement and his lids fell shut. Asher was numb to the release of fabric but as her fingers wandered around his torso to still against his back, they pulled trails of subtle electricity behind them.  

Seraphine’s lips touched his and in an instant, he could envision brighter days ahead. Lifted spirits and something shamefully similar to hopefulness. It was vague, a silhouette and in spite of his persistence in heavy reluctance, Asher allowed his heart to surrender. There was no sign of hesitation, nothing to indicate uncertainty he’d laid off a long while prior. Asher reciprocated the kiss, his fingers combing further through her hair until coming to rest near the back of her head.

[sophrps]

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Bastien’s smile was soft as he took in her words and the slight adjustments in demeanor; thought to see something akin to disappointment or discontent. He offered her an impressed nod, and agreed. “That’s true, there are little oceans, yes. Humans call them lakes and they do swim in them, you’re right.” The sapphire gaze that rested on her softened. “Sometimes humans are clumsy and accidentally swallow the water, or get it in a cut, or some other way that the water gets into their body and the water in the little ocean make them sick too.” His chuckle was not loud enough to venture much further than where she stood. “They’re quite a delicate species.”

Josephina took the book, placing it in her bag, and Bastien slipped a hand back into his pocket. An eerie sensation dripped from his fingertips, but he paid it no mind, kept his attention solely on the mermaid in front of him, shaking his head to himself at her question. “Never been deep enough, I suppose. I do tend to venture north rather than south; colder waters don’t strike me as suitable for mermaids, though I wouldn’t know.” An incautious step closed a modicum of distance and Bastien dipped his head, lowering his voice. “Would it startle you to know I was born human, Josephina? Cursed to spend my days ashore with the rest of them for decades before being allowed to return home to the sea.”

Affirmation that she had not been entirely wrong reinforced the smile she bore atop full lips. Josephina did not bother to wonder if he could tell how appreciative she was for the time he spared, with which deliberate patience he answered her every question. Most humans had rarely been so thorough in the elaborate explanations about the workings of their silly and so very fascinating world. And she could not help the laugh that spilled, a saccharine giggle doused in a bright summer day’s lightness. “Humans are funny, aren’t they?” Another laugh, thick like honey, and she shook her head. “That’s so odd. At least they don’t put the chemicals, the uh-- chlorine, right? At least they don’t put that in the lakes.” Grandmother. Lakes. Chlorine. Her smile was visible proof for how satisfied she was with all this new knowledge she’d gathered in just a few minutes. But then it vanished, brows furrowing instead. “They don’t, right?”

North rather than south and she nodded, as though to clarify she understood. “Oh, there are. The north is less populated, but there are still quite a few of us.” In spite of how kind Bastien had been, how gullible she tended to be and how deep her naivety reached, as he neared, she almost took half a step back -- almost. Instead, she craned her head, looked up with a curious gaze, almost akin to a cat’s. She allowed his words to sink in and her heart grew heavy at the realization. A long moment of silence and secondhand sorrow must leak through the way her expression dropped, the way her voice was now a mere whisper. “But why?” She swallowed. “Why would they do that to you?” 

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Overcast eyes shimmered beneath the surface as she looked at him, fingers falling from his face, resting near the hem of his shirt. Seraphine struggled to keep lashes parted as his hands found refuge in her hair, focus the color of his eyelashes and a string of confounding words she had no time to decipher. The warmth of his lips vanished as soon as it appeared, though the cold left room for his voice to capture each atom of attention.

I adore you.

Three words shattered something in the recesses of her mind, mended something else, and Seraphine’s wide blue eyes were threaded with ribbons of shimmering gold and silver. Her fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt as she caught her breath, felt immeasurably warm as the itch of golden wings tore at the skin of her shoulder blades. The healing magic of his sincerity enough to nearly reveal the final truth slumbering within Seraphine Wolfram’s mind. A truth she wished were simpler and less dangerous to disclose.

Seraphine closed her eyes slowly, fallen smile reemerging, and she forced the itch to dissipate. Calmed a racing heart enough to flood irises with cerulean before they opened again. “I-” Seraphine exhaled in dazed disbelief. There were hundreds of thoughts fighting for the right to her tongue, the honor of explaining how she had never been happier to hear anything in the entirety of her life. How she wanted nothing more than to be here. With him. None of the coherent thoughts managed to fight their way to the surface, however. Instead, a smile was audible in breathless words posing a single question. “Permission to kiss you again?”

Night-time had never given him a reason to doubt its versatile beauty, the serenity, and peacefulness it could deliver as naturally as the mystery of shadows and the ubiquitous gloom, drawing patterns beneath a dark sky. He’d always felt more at ease underneath the moon’s eternally benign gaze, once darkness loomed and the city’s skyline was doused in a beacon of a million little lights. It was the coldest of joyous comforts, knowing that each night a pattern was bound to repeat. And maybe, just perhaps, it had grown a little warmer in the most recent years that’d had Seraphine in them. 

His fingers still swam in strands of golden hair and he pulled away, slowly and barely enough to manage to catch a look at her. So, Asher missed the way gold and silver laced the cerulean hue of her eyes, did not witness the subtle anomalies threaded into the usually infinitely blue pattern of her eyes. Silence folded around them like a blanket, pooled by the soles of their feet, and Asher barely even noticed the way her fingers tightened around the fabric of his shirt, their grip falling far below a striking enough degree for him to pay attention to. 

It was then, just shortly before she closed her eyes, that he looked at her. The stillness of words extended further than he had expected and slowly, a dreadful sense crawled below his skin and elicited a thought he could not quite shake. A question, whether anybody had ever told her before. The slow smile that kneaded itself into her expression spoke volumes and as those spoken by her voice followed, all wonder and previously arisen questions had fully dissipated. Were now submerged beneath his own reflection of her expression, a prominent smile for his own through which he spoke, his voice still quiet against Lady in Satin. “Permission granted.” 

[sophrps]

ellaxplays​:

Bastien observed her like light glistening atop seawater: cautiously and knowingly risking the impairment of his vision from reflected rays. She was genuinely gaining new knowledge, learning from the simple things he’d offered, and his brows knitted together for several moments until amusement unraveled them. “Quite a lot of land with no access to beaches, yes.” Bastien smiled, quite enjoyed her inquiry and the curiosity that laced genuine questions. “Well, humans can be made sick by a number of things and standing water tends to attract a lot of those things. Algae can produce toxins called cyanotoxins and many diseases like to live in water, too. The chemical, chlorine, humans use in pools gets rid of those things, but in high concentrations, you’re right, the chemical is also dangerous. Humans just decided the benefits outweighed the costs and use only a little in their pools to keep them clean.”

And then his eyes widened, undulating blue trained on the book she offered. The Little Mermaid. Bastien closed his long fingers around the book to examine it, pulling the hand from his pocket to better stabilize it between his palms. “A mermaid.” He made a note that, apparently, mermaids were real and held the book back out for her to take. “You didn’t have to make a pact with a witch for legs, did you?” A beat. “I hope that’s not rude to ask. I’ve never met a mermaid before.”

How strange, Josephina thought, to live confined by dust and asphalt, no ocean, no shore closeby. No place to seek refuge and then she remembered how humans didn’t have to rely on the saving of crashing waves and the eternal tides. She nodded and felt as sorrowful as envious. As Bastien kindly strung an elaborate answer to her question, Josephina with purposeful intent and an evident eagerness to learn, tilted her head sideways in a dull angle and listened. She found a sense of sadness pooling above her eyes, where her brows furrowed slightly. “Oh,” was all she managed and she glanced down. “I didn’t know that.” Obviously. Cautiously, she then raised her hazel gaze and looked back at Bastien. “Aren’t there little oceans, too? People swim in those and don’t get sick ...” What she referred to, was commonly known as lakes.

A mermaid. Josephina nodded once more and remembered how she had found it odd, the word assigned to who she unfamiliar and strangely witless. Her eyes wandered down to where he held the book in his hands, studying it with what she believed to be intrigue. And as she was handed it back, she laughed, shaking her head. “No, it’s a little simpler than that.” Suddenly and shallowly nervous, she looked away once more as the book found its safe place inside her bag. She contemplated on the delivery of an elaborated explanation, but the last of words he spoke halted her thoughts for a singular instant. “What do you mean you’ve never met a mermaid before?”

[sophrps]

ellaxplays​:

Flickers of an aurora borealis shimmered in a gaze that wandered down her arm as a waterfall painted it a deep chestnut. Cautious attention redirected to inviting eyes and a smile filled with equatorial luminescence. She was odd, certainly, but far too sincere to write off entirely and Bastien felt trepidation melt like glacial ice under her unwavering radiance. “Maybe I will,” he surmised. “Might need to enlist you to show me around.”

She held her necklace between her fingers and Bastien allowed it only a moment to distract him from the litany of things she’d decided to share. Curious about humans. His smile spread with a heavy chuckle and he nodded. “Backyards. The places behind houses with the flowers are called backyards,” he offered, genuinely. “And, weirdly, those things aren’t bathtubs. They’re called pools and humans have them because sometimes they like to swim for fun, but can’t get to a beach,” he said with a slight roll of his shoulders. “They’re full of chemicals, though, since humans don’t like algae. It can make them sick.” A moment passed as he looked at her and considered his words. Settled on something incautious. “So, Josephina, if you’re not human, what are you?”

She believed in intuition, the unshakable belief that before her stood no ordinary human, even though Josephina struggled to put her finger exactly on what hid behind his eyes -- or rather and unbeknownst to her, who. Her nod was akin to a fickle promise, her smile layered thick and sticky sweet against her lips. “Sure, I can do that,” she said, her giggle meddling with the last syllable she spoke. 

“Backyards,” she murmured, as though to test the words, try how its phonemes felt as she spoke them, how her voice wrapped itself around yet another new word. Though, as Bastien explained that her presumption of oversized bathtubs sitting in those backyards, her eyes widened, brows furrowed in mild confusion temporarily. “Oh. That makes sense.” A beat. “Because there are places that don’t have beaches, right?” That, she had heard somewhere before. “But why do algae make humans sick and chemicals don’t? Aren’t chemicals dangerous?” This, too, was something she had heard somewhere before. And as he asked her what she was, Josephina, again, found herself surprised, for she had thought he’d have it figured out. So, her free hand rummaged through the bag she’d slung over one shoulder, hazel eyes averting for mere moments until she retrieved a book. Old, battered and bruised she offered it to him. Hans Christian Andersen’s The Little Mermaid. “It’s not all that accurate -- some things are, just ... not everything.” 

[sophrps]

ellaxplays​:

A heartbeat the likes of whitewater on a cresting wave settled into the undulating surface of a moonlit sea and Seraphine thought she’d unearthed something she hadn’t known to look for.  The gradual pressure lifting her only slightly allowing for the erasure of limited space between them as his hand found its place against her back and the stars whispered sweetly in her ear. Their shimmering reflection against an obsidian backdrop appearing to welcome her home.

Slowly, the soft glow of her room and soft crackle of a record filled in the space at the edges of her perception and the warmth lingering atop full lips began to dissipate. Seraphine refused to allow eyes to open as the drum of her heart slowed, made room for a single, shuddered breath to leave her lungs. The smile that grew was soft and Seraphine could no longer remember a warm Chicago summer or the smell of fresh asphalt. Lady in Satin rewritten in an instant and a new exhibit was erected in her museum of memories, taking the place of a sepulcher.

Untwining from his hair in time with the slow parting of lashes, slim fingers traveled the inverse of their path until they draped along his jaw once more. Seraphine watched as her thumb drifted across his skin, marveling at the simple, tangible reality of his presence. Her small smile grew when she finally met Asher’s gaze, mesmerized by a man shaped like home.

The absurdity of her loveliness was enough to make his skin crawl, an ice-cold shiver creeping up his spine refused to ease in moments of stillness, the chill lingering on for just a moment too long as his heartbeat slowed down to a moderate rhythm. From the record, the music still played and hung in her room’s eternal warmth and Asher slowly stumbled back into a place where timelessness was finite and he feared they may reach its deadline soon. 

He followed the delicate lines of the small smile slowly blossoming on her face and barely did he realize how he mirrored the expression with a mere second’s delay. His own sat softly against his lips and Asher wished for another while of unmoving stillness. That time would work in their favor and he was reminded of that first night in the absence of willful sunshine. The fire escape and the images spread out on his coffee table, the realization that it might have been the first time in a long while either of them had encountered a kindness that didn’t ask for anything in return. Remembering wanting her to stay and that this had never quite changed. 

As Seraphine’s fingers retraced the path they had previously taken and she opened her eyes, one deep breath settled in his lungs. The caress of her thumb across his jaw, the way he didn’t mind being under her quiet watch halted him in thought and movement for a brief while. A small moment at most. Then, he peeled his hands from where they were, threading them through soft strands of golden hair once more. “I might’ve understated things,” he mumbled, his voice low in sound. A small kiss it was, that he placed on her cheek, alarmingly close to the edge of full lips and then, near her ear, his voice reached the breaking point of a whisper. “I adore you.” 

[sophrps]

ellaxplays​:

Ice floes shifted in now unnaturally blue eyes as he peered at her, unsure if he should take her bright candor seriously. Sunlight danced atop her lashes and Bastien saw only sincerity in her eyes, thought it odd anyone would have the wherewithal to keep up a joke this long, and furrowed his brow in a flash of contemplative uncertainty. Unsure how far to push inquiry amidst a contract’s strict regulations, Bastien silently ventured across a cartographic map of inquiry, searching for precise words on the seafloor of his mind.

His nod was short and understated. “I see,” he said, gravel scraping over his tongue to weigh words down. “The Atlantic ocean where it’s warm and there are many islands around.” Bastien was familiar with her self-proclaimed ocean home, though his waters were far less inviting. Wondered almost reluctantly if they had inhabitants too. “Why are you up here with boring humans? Sounds much nicer out there.”

She thought back on the sunlight pouring through the sheer veil of the ocean’s surface, daylight, and how the darkness and its cold only came at a certain point. She remembered the warnings her mother had spoken, to never stray too far and she thought of how sorry she was for walking among mankind, passing time with fine words and nice banter with kind strangers. Wondering where he, Bastien, came from, she tilted her head, canted it sideways and left strands of dark brown hair fall over her shoulder, halfway down her arm. 

A nod was served with eager intent of yet another affirmation, just as Bastien had repeated her answer. “If you’ve never been there, you should go sometime,” she said, her voice pitching with saccharine encouragement and her smile blossomed against her lips. “I um-- I was curious.” Now, her smile turned meek, bordering on shy and her hand instinctively moved to clutch her necklace’s pendant between long fingers. “Humans aren’t boring! They’re a little funny sometimes, but they’re never boring.” A beat. “Some even have a big bathtub in their um ... the place behind houses where they grow colorful flowers and stuff.” 

[sophrps]

ellaxplays​:

The laugh that unfurled from her lips brought with it images of water lilies and honeysuckle and his brows unraveled as he looked at her. Sincerity dripped over her tongue and Bastien was momentarily blinded by the glare off the undulating surface of his mind. He shook his head and thought stranger things than this had happened in the four decades he’d seen on this earth. Was hard pressed to believe much of anything was impossible anymore.

“So your grandmother has been to the lost city of Atlantis, has she?” Disbelief and an amused hum hung in the air between breaths as Bastien considered the degree of caution with which he wished to proceed. Could take her words as plainly as she’d presented them in her ever-lovely lilt. Bastien resolved to lace a genuine question with the precise melody of playful inquiry, his smile softening into a shadow. Remnants shining only in the sudden arctic luminescence of his eyes. Something no human would catch. “So what part of the ocean is your family from, then?”

Adequate formalities were divorced from her sense of reality and Josephina had never been handed an opportunity to realize how she acted strangely in the eyes of all ordinary human beings. So, she thought nothing strange of her gesture, the offering of a pomegranate, or the question, whether the kind man with the spirit of the sea engulfing him, had ever been to the lost city of ancient history before. In many ways, Josephina still was a child and dreamed of Atlantis’ variety of vibrant hues and the mystical city’s vast expanse. The fantastic picture the stories that had been whispered to her below the ocean’s surface still haunted her daydreams. 

A grandmother -- her mother’s mother, she concluded and nodded. “At least my mother said so.” She had never met her grandmother, the stories of her ventures through the seas merely secondhand tales. “I’m from ... I think it’s the Atlantic ocean. There are lots of islands around and it’s pretty much always warm near the surface.” She couldn’t tell for sure, that she in fact referred to the precise point where the Atlantic ocean married the Caribbean sea.

[sophrps]

ellaxplays​:

Ambient warmth and the tenderness of an unexpected connection swirled like fallen leaves in her mind’s museum of memories. Echoing hum of a far off guitar and the mewl of a cat in summer, midnights and spontaneity, and how Seraphine never quite liked snow until Asher, the only pristine exhibits in a hall made almost entirely of ruins. Her hand found a home at her side and she thought to catch a moment of motionlessness, gaze drifting from his eyes to his lips where it lingered for no more than two breaths before swimming back up to the cerulean surface. Seraphine had always known Asher had eyes you could drown in if not careful, thought now how lucky it was she knew how to swim.

The pressure of his fingers against her neck decelerated all breath and movement, attention diverted to the movement of his hand down her arm, and Seraphine struggled to remember the last time anyone had been so deliberate in their care or consideration. Walked through the maze of ruins and came up wholly empty, swept away the rubble and thought, perhaps, she could build something better than all that had come before. With him.

Her pulse’s gradual accelerando greeted Asher as his hand stilled at her wrist and Seraphine finally met his gaze again. She stood taller, the residual tension in her shoulder blades melting into the floor, and found the courage to coerce her wrist from his gentle grasp, holding his hand in hers, instead. The smile nestled in the corners of lips betrayed a fondness floating in the blue of her eyes she thought to find mirrored in the captivating gaze mere breaths away. Her limited hold on him tightened only marginally, hoped it was enough.

Clouds of dust settled and his attention was fleeting. Asher barely heard the music playing, the backdrop to his perception humble and fatally quiet. Thoughts finally fell lower than before until they bordered on soundlessness, reduced their near obnoxious volume, and peacefulness seemed within reach. Though, the only certainty he had was that she was real, tangible unlike the ephemeral glow of the moon, who had kept him fickle company until the slow rise of dawn. Only until the sun glistened through the cracks in New York City’s skyline. And he did not think of all those lonely nights before her, the way his days had rarely amounted to something he could be confidently content with until her. 

He felt the readjustment of her posture, the way she peeled her wrist from his touch. His fingers loosened and eyes still remained steady in the way they carefully watched her, as though to memorize each delicate detail. The precise arch of her brows and the length of lashes to frame eternally blue eyes. The slight blush sitting in the apples of her cheeks and the fullness of lips, slowly finding their way back to the gentle curve of an impossibly tender smile. It was only then, that Asher realized she held his hand and no sign of resistance or further hesitation was being made known. 

Closeness defined the measure of proximity and she tightened her fingers around his just slightly. More than enough and her voice’s echo clung to the edges of whichever thoughts were gathered in shapeless piles on the bottom of his mind. He was grateful, again and still, for her, all that she was. It was the last sliver of thoughts before he leaned in to kiss her, bridge the last remainders of whatever distance had kept them apart. 

[sophrps]

ellaxplays​:

Bastien settled his stance and tapped a finger against his leg with the hand concealed by his pocket’s fabric. Considerate in his study of the particularly smooth olive skin barely creased by her smile, Bastien made a note not to linger lest his attentions be perceived as frightening. Men were often concerning in that way, he thought, and canted his head to catch her hazel gaze.

The coral curve of her lips carried a strange question and Bastien furrowed his brow over an amused, bright chuckle. Broad shoulders rolled to straighten his posture and crystalline eyes looked to his right as his tongue pressed against the back of his canines. “You know what, I wish. Can’t say I’ve been looking too hard, though.” His attention was drawn back to this odd stranger and his smile refused to fade. “Why? You giving tours?”

The ocean’s vast and innumerable shades of blue poured from the smile she carried and her question didn’t seem all that strange to her. But he smiled and she deemed it an affirming sign, a positive reaction taken from his chuckle. Hazel eyes were keen in their subtle observation of Bastien and she canted her head sideways, barely, as though treading the shallow waters of contemplation as he spoke. 

A giggle blossomed and bubbled from her chest, hung from her lips, sickeningly sweet and smooth like honey. “No,” she shook her head and thought his counter-question to be within reason. After all, he could not know she had never set foot in the mystical realm of a lost city herself. “According to my mother, her mother has been there. I have never been there myself but I heard all sorts of amazing things about it.”