i watch the sea creep round the corner.
it connects the dots from here to you.
snow patrol
it connects the dots from here to you.
snow patrol
Spring, 507 A.V.
"I'm going," Nel insisted.
"You're not going," Syon argued.
"I'm GOING," she said louder.
"You're NOT." His voice rose as well. "By Yahal's tits, you're not going anywhere! You'll stay on this ship and like it!"
The cabin that the siblings were screaming in could only barely contain the volume of their voices. Above them, Captain Rezar and the rest of the crew of pirates could hear, loud and clear, the argument going on belowdecks. This would have made Syon blush, and Nel only roar the louder. Rezar leaned his elbow to the deck's railing, sinking into a comfortable slouch, his ear turned towards the cabin's window and the discord spiraling through it.
"Cap'n?" Lohpot, one of the pirates, looked inquiringly up at the bald, one-eyed figure of his captain.
"Oh, she'll be coming," Rezar murmured, amusement curving his mouth sharply.
"But Sy's yelling," Lohpot said, confused.
"Which means he's already lost," Rezar chuckled.
Something thudded below. The pirates began placing bets on whether or not it was Syon's body.
Nel had grabbed Sy's favorite book and slammed it on the floor, and was now stomping on it, meaningfully. Sy had his hands in his hair, disbelief and fury twisting his expression, and no small amount of chagrin, and defeat.
"I'm. Going," Nel was saying, punctuating each word by driving her heel into the book's cover. Pages were already ripping loose. "To. The. City. With. You!"
"You're destroying it!" Sy cried. And then he lurched, and dove across the room at her, tackling her about the waist.
They rolled across the cabin floor, flailing and fighting, biting and pinching; she was punching and kicking, but he was more careful with her than all that. And he was bigger, and stronger, and generally more suited to tussling than the diminutive girl currently trying to gnaw his arm off. He shook her, grabbing her wrists and slammed them down on the cabin floor, pinning her underneath him. She continued to struggle, thrashing, but he held her still while she spent her temper tantrum. It was quite a sight. Anyone walking into the room would have likely presumed they were up to something other than fighting, but such a presumption was of course incorrect. And Syon had broken the kneecaps of anyone stupid enough to suggest it.
Nel was his sister.
Well. Nel was and was not his sister. She was his sister, but she wasn't his sister. Just by looking at them, one could ascertain that there was no blood connection, at all. Firstly, Syon was human. Secondly, Nel was not. Sy was tall and broad-shouldered, muscled from years spent climbing the mast and securing the sails, skin burnished into a flawless copper by the sun. Blond hair that stood up in all different directions, no matter what he did to it. Many a whore had blamed her pillow for the state of his hair, but it just naturally did whatever it wanted and, like Syon himself, refused to be tamed. His features were strongly chiseled, eyes a rich, warm hazel, and his temperament was not unlike that of a donkey's, Nel might say. Stubborn and loyal and calm through the barrage. The only thing that made him lose his temper was the creature still trying to bite him.
Nel was Konti; she looked it, even if she didn't act it. Who was he to tell her how to act, though? When he'd found her in the market, carrying a basket of eggs for her master, he'd fallen madly in love with her. With her white skin and silver hair, and those big blue eyes that carried around a wealth of hope and good humor, despite her circumstances. He'd planned on marrying her, he thought. Well, things rarely went the way Syon planned them. She'd announced to Rezar as soon as she'd stepped foot on the boat that she was his sister, and...he went with it. Hadn't ever looked back. Only now he considered throttling her.
"You destroyed my book!" he barked down at her.
"You're too overprotective!" she snapped up at him.
"Silyras is dangerous," he insisted.
"Pirate ships are dangerous!" she cried. "I want to see the city! I want to meet people! I want to have a pint and a dance and play cards like you get to! I'm tired of being stuck on this ship all day and all night and never getting to do anything!"
Sy shoved up off of her, climbing back to his feet. He continued to glare at her as she sought her footing as well.
"And what if someone sees you," he said, his voice threatening. "And thinks: she'd make a nice pet. What if someone snatches you while I'm not looking?"
"That won't happen," she insisted, too earnest for her own good. "I know it won't."
"You don't know anything!" he argued. "Maybe, Nelly -- maybe if you had that second-sight thing that your people are supposed to have--"
"Well I don't so stop wishing I did!" she interrupted, furious all over again. "I'm just what I am, Sy, and what I am is crazy because you keep me holed up in this ship whenever we put to port!"
"What you are is naive," he growled. "And too trusting, and some day you'll wish you'd listened to me."
"But not today!"
They squared off, each exhausted by the argument, and Syon folded his arms across his chest. This signal of defeat made her eyes light up, and she bounced over to him, grasping the weave of his forearms and giving them a sturdy shake. He glanced away from her, nostrils flaring angrily. She shook him again. He ducked his chin and looked back at her, the shifting gold of his eyes narrowly meeting the brilliant blue of hers.
"Please?" she whispered hopefully.
"Just this once," he muttered, grinding his teeth. And then he grabbed her hand and began marching her out of the cabin. "And you're paying for that book to be rebound."
She let out a delighted noise and scrambled behind him, practically bopping as she went.
---
16th Day of Spring, 510 A.V.
The water was black, thick and roiling like pitch.
It grasped onto white skin, slimey fingers wrapping about pale flesh, hauling her down into its depths, though she thrashed and flailed and tasted the salt and foam of the ocean. It didn't taste like any ocean she'd ever drowned in before; licorice and oak, a sharp cut of thyme that threatened to clog her throat. No light from the surface, not even the flickering lance of lightning or the half-hearted ripple of the moon. Darkness above and below and all around, a penetrating kind, that hugged her close and cradled her, and though she could breathe in this thickening brine, panic spiked into her heart. She couldn't see. Couldn't see but her own hands clawing towards the surface, a surface steadily drifting further away. Muted by the waves, the dark chuckle of thunder hung in the sky, and she clenched her fists as though the tide was a thing she could capture, hold onto, like a lifeline.
It all slipped through her fingers, as the sea was wont to do.
A flash of gold in the corner of her periphery and she writhed to turn towards it, reaching out as the corpse floated past. Golden skin turned pale and lifeless, and a shock of blonde hair wafting like a halo through the water, but his eyes were closed. She reached frantically towards him, but he sank back into the churning deep just as her fingertips brushed the fabric of his collar. A sparkle from above and she twisted again, as a plume of gold mizas rained down, drifting; she swatted at them, trying to clear them from her vision, but they swarmed. Shining, flickering through the blackness like feeding gnats, light bouncing off each surface, blinding her as she tried to shove through them to chase after the drowned figure of her brother. The coins latched onto her hair and her arms, her clothes, weighing her further down, and she kicked but caught no purchase.
Far away, she heard bells.
Beyond even that, the rumble of a sighing giant as he rolled over in his sleep.
She screamed; her throat was raw for screaming through the water. Cursing, praying, grabbing handfuls of money and flinging the coins away from her skin until she ripped the delicate, shimmering scales from one arm and flung them into the twist and tilt of the sea as well. They glimmered silver instead of gold.
Her limbs ached for fighting, and she felt herself grow weak with loneliness and exhaustion. When she relented, and began to drift on the ocean's whim, through a tumult of coins and scales and then suddenly wreckage, tumbling end over end through the darkness, her vision blurred. The scent of honey reached her. A wave arched underneath her, catching her beneath the belly and spilling her backwards. She slid, and then slammed into a surface, something firm. Spent, she spilled against it, and the water rushed forward, only to recede once more.
Something in the darkness cinched about her waist, pulling her further away from the sea. Land. Shore. The arm of the giant. She crawled closer, pressed against the warmth and the solidity of the beach she couldn't see, and felt it hold her securely, though the waves continued to lap at her heels, waiting to drag her under once more.
The smell of bananas lurched her awake, and was gone as she opened her eyes. Didn't recognize the ceiling at first, until she felt Murdoch stir beside her, and then she remembered. And took a deep breath, realizing that she couldn't go back to sleep, was too afraid to.
"Doc," she said quietly. "I can't feel my arm."
