Minnie lay in the water with her eyes closed. The sun, though underneath the hot horizonalread had its fingers interlaced with the dawning sky The air was hot and rough with sand, but the water was cool, for the bath that she lay in was just underneath the tumbled statue, and fed by the second fall from the spring itself. It was half buried in the statue’s rubble, and, in fact, had been constructed of one of the statues cupped hands, so that her head now the bottom knuckle of the thumb and breathed slowly, her eyes drooping. It had been a long day of work, moving her things, and then winching them up the narrow shaft into the office (and now here home) in the House of Lives Lived, and she had slept fitfully, nervous at being in a bed with someone else, in spite of the utterly chaste nature of the arrangement. Towards the end, Minnie had tentatively taken Semiyr’s hand, who had squeezed her own hand back, and thus, she had finally been able to gather some real rest, but still, she was tired enough that the slight current beneath the pool lulled her gently towards sleep. She had already washed and had come to the point where her skin felt soft and rich with the water, and her bare hips rested cradled by a wrinkle of the palm. It was a langorous, lazy moment.
But.
The sun was breaking and today, after all, she would be working. As lazy as the water made her, she was excited at the idea, the same sort of excitement that came at home with the first day of a new semester where she had prepared a new class to present. She stretched now, standing in the pool, the water clinging to her crevices, as she shook the droplets from her skin as best she could. She wrapped the binding cloth around her breast, for she was used to it now, and pulled a skirt over her legs. Shoes, she did not bother with: her boots were now repaired, but they rested by her trunk unheeded. She pulled her hair up with a ribbon, pinned on a straw hat, then slid her dark gloves onto her hands. Then taking up her walking stick, she began to pick her way up the rocks.
She clambered over the last of the stones and saw Semiyr seated at the far edge of the pool, pulling a shining brush through her hair in long strokes. Minnie sat on her end, and tied a ribbon round her ankles, then plopped (perhaps a bit gracelessly) into the water, holding her skirt down, and arched her back kicking again into a float. She began to stroke slowly toward the far end of the pool, closing her eyes in the slowly expanding sun, and concentrating on the feel of the water itself, and on the queer undulation from shoulder to toe that the kick entailed, trying to keep straight. She made little corrections with her arms, a bit awkwardly, and found herself peeking just a bit to find the edges from the corners of her eyes. IT was not a short pool, and halfway she stopped a moment, floating motionless to catch her breath. The queer stroke that she had learned worked a number muscles of which she had previously been unaware existed, all of which now telegraphed their concern over being stirred from their long dormancy. She breathed, deep and low, keeping her eyes shut.
Finally, she filled her lungs to the utmost, beat her tail, and on she went. She moved her arms now, as well, though this she had not learned, mostly in the hopes of going some relief from the exhaustion of her body. She cupped put them out straight from the body, finger splayed pulled short, mostly ineffectual circles at her side. She scrunched her eyes up tighter, trying to feel the water around her hands. It rushed between her splayed fingers, so she pulled them together, more like a seal’s fins. This was better, but still not a particularly life changing discovery, and her wrists were growing tired, as most of the movement was isolated within them. The arms also had to kept in sync with each other, or she felt as if she would roll, which ended up contributing to the misery in her wrists, as she did not want to make long sweeps that might tip her over.
Finally, her hands growing more tired even than her belly, she simply pulled them to her sides, thinking simply to give up on them - which of course pulled her with significantly more force forward, more noticeable now as her abdomen in particular was beginning to fail, making the beating of her tail much weaker. She tried again, lifting her arms - but she did this in the water, which frustratingly sent her backward a little. She pulled them to her sides again, and this time lifted them out of the water, so that the whole movement felt like she was outlining the hoops of a ball gown. This proved, at least, a little more effective, and let her wrists rest in favor of her shoulders, which now worked both in the rotation, and in little tugs to keep her face upright. She bit hard on her lip, trying to stay determined, then stopped herself, remembering Semiyr’s words about pain as a meditative aid. She instead felt each element of her, again, slowly, starting at her toes. She felt the quivering of her muscles, and felt an emotion she could not quite place - forgiveness was the best she could come up with, not towards herself, but towards her calf, ankle, knee, thigh, belly, on and on up to her neck, which had grown stiff with the nervous effort of keeping her mouth above the water.
A hand touched and pushed back against the crown of her head, stopping her, for she had reached the pool’s far end now, and she opened her eyes to find Semiyr’s smile above her, a little bemused, but kind. She panted, and felt terribly sweaty.
“Sorry… I am slow.”
“Not at all! Thou improvest quickly. I should be slower than thee should I have need of walking, Philomena,” and she reached grabbing Minnie’s bicep, to help pull onto the pool side, then gently unbound her ankles. Minnie’s hat and pins, and her walking stick and gloves sat by the pool’s edge atop a rock.
“You’ve brought my things from the other end.”
“Well, I did perhaps have a bit of time, waiting, friend.”
x
But.
The sun was breaking and today, after all, she would be working. As lazy as the water made her, she was excited at the idea, the same sort of excitement that came at home with the first day of a new semester where she had prepared a new class to present. She stretched now, standing in the pool, the water clinging to her crevices, as she shook the droplets from her skin as best she could. She wrapped the binding cloth around her breast, for she was used to it now, and pulled a skirt over her legs. Shoes, she did not bother with: her boots were now repaired, but they rested by her trunk unheeded. She pulled her hair up with a ribbon, pinned on a straw hat, then slid her dark gloves onto her hands. Then taking up her walking stick, she began to pick her way up the rocks.
She clambered over the last of the stones and saw Semiyr seated at the far edge of the pool, pulling a shining brush through her hair in long strokes. Minnie sat on her end, and tied a ribbon round her ankles, then plopped (perhaps a bit gracelessly) into the water, holding her skirt down, and arched her back kicking again into a float. She began to stroke slowly toward the far end of the pool, closing her eyes in the slowly expanding sun, and concentrating on the feel of the water itself, and on the queer undulation from shoulder to toe that the kick entailed, trying to keep straight. She made little corrections with her arms, a bit awkwardly, and found herself peeking just a bit to find the edges from the corners of her eyes. IT was not a short pool, and halfway she stopped a moment, floating motionless to catch her breath. The queer stroke that she had learned worked a number muscles of which she had previously been unaware existed, all of which now telegraphed their concern over being stirred from their long dormancy. She breathed, deep and low, keeping her eyes shut.
Finally, she filled her lungs to the utmost, beat her tail, and on she went. She moved her arms now, as well, though this she had not learned, mostly in the hopes of going some relief from the exhaustion of her body. She cupped put them out straight from the body, finger splayed pulled short, mostly ineffectual circles at her side. She scrunched her eyes up tighter, trying to feel the water around her hands. It rushed between her splayed fingers, so she pulled them together, more like a seal’s fins. This was better, but still not a particularly life changing discovery, and her wrists were growing tired, as most of the movement was isolated within them. The arms also had to kept in sync with each other, or she felt as if she would roll, which ended up contributing to the misery in her wrists, as she did not want to make long sweeps that might tip her over.
Finally, her hands growing more tired even than her belly, she simply pulled them to her sides, thinking simply to give up on them - which of course pulled her with significantly more force forward, more noticeable now as her abdomen in particular was beginning to fail, making the beating of her tail much weaker. She tried again, lifting her arms - but she did this in the water, which frustratingly sent her backward a little. She pulled them to her sides again, and this time lifted them out of the water, so that the whole movement felt like she was outlining the hoops of a ball gown. This proved, at least, a little more effective, and let her wrists rest in favor of her shoulders, which now worked both in the rotation, and in little tugs to keep her face upright. She bit hard on her lip, trying to stay determined, then stopped herself, remembering Semiyr’s words about pain as a meditative aid. She instead felt each element of her, again, slowly, starting at her toes. She felt the quivering of her muscles, and felt an emotion she could not quite place - forgiveness was the best she could come up with, not towards herself, but towards her calf, ankle, knee, thigh, belly, on and on up to her neck, which had grown stiff with the nervous effort of keeping her mouth above the water.
A hand touched and pushed back against the crown of her head, stopping her, for she had reached the pool’s far end now, and she opened her eyes to find Semiyr’s smile above her, a little bemused, but kind. She panted, and felt terribly sweaty.
“Sorry… I am slow.”
“Not at all! Thou improvest quickly. I should be slower than thee should I have need of walking, Philomena,” and she reached grabbing Minnie’s bicep, to help pull onto the pool side, then gently unbound her ankles. Minnie’s hat and pins, and her walking stick and gloves sat by the pool’s edge atop a rock.
“You’ve brought my things from the other end.”
“Well, I did perhaps have a bit of time, waiting, friend.”
x