the moon is just past full, bright enough to make the sand on the beach glow even with the light pollution spilling down from rio and Shepard catches Marcos' square figure out of the corner of her eye and shifts her path.
She watches him kneel down and for a minute she thinks, "oh he's praying" and almost stops but then he scoops his hand down into the sand and lifts a handful into the breeze coming in strong off the water.
In his other hand, there's a small glass vial.
Empty, that one part of her brain classifies. Clean enough to sparkle.
Head cocked, she sees him put it to his lips and tug and scoop another handful up, closer to his body to protect it from scattering. The moonlight catches the stream of sand as he lets it flow and overflow the vial.
He tumps a little of the sand out and presses the cork back in, before he rolls back to his feet and turns and
"Raios me fodam! Shepard, tu maldita bruxa!"
Snorting, she grins at him. "I mean, I'm not the one doing fucking rituals in the sand, Marcos."
He gives her a baffled look and then waves the vial at her. "A souvenir?"
And now she's the one who's confused. "You wanted some beach sand to keep? What, trying to reclaim some of the sweat and crying we left out here?"
"No, no...well, perhaps. A little." His smile is almost bashful. "My mother...when we'd leave a place to not return, she'd keep a little dirt. I thought...eh, I'd add a little bit to her collection."
Ah, well, that's...surprising. "You ain't coming back for another round?"
With a shrug, he pockets it. "Eh. I think six trips to hell and back are enough. I used to think...I wanted that tag but now." Marcos breaks off and, as she steps a little closer, stares off into the surf. Tide coming in to spit foam at their feet. "No. I'm promoted to commander, there's a ship leaving drydock and an XO position and I think I can make captain in five years if I'm not always bleeding out to feed sharks." He kicks a little sand at her feet, "You being one of them."
"Aw, you say such nice things. I'm sorry, I'd've liked to kick your ass over the tiger pit run, next cycle."
"I'm not. It's not for me. I miss the..." There's something soft in his voice when he adds, "Marcos, we've always been sailors, you know? My grandmother ran a fishing fleet. Her grandfather was a pirate," and the grin he gives her sells that he's a pirate's kin. "We keep the dirt, but we need the waves and the stars. And leave the lonely glory of N school to witches like you."
And if she was a little different or if there were a few more years under her belt, she'd feel something other than that faint amusement she rolls with but, those are a few years and a fine ship and crew beyond her still. So what she says is, "I do like a little lonely glory, it's true. I'll invite you to my pinning."
He laughs and nods. And just as he turns away, she adds, "Hey, keep it safe, though. Got some of my blood and sweat in that sand, too."
"Save those for my pinning, too."
