maybe you were the ocean
Is he some dark and mysterious stranger?
Likely not. The truth is simply that everyone had a story if you peeled back the flesh far enough, or searched beneath the muscle and sinew carefully enough. Wane’s story is not dark, or twisted, or even that wholly original. Nothing wicked rattles at the bars of his xylophone ribs waiting to be freed. In fact, it is entirely possible that the darkest secret he holds close to his heart is that his entire family is immortal, save for him, and while at first is had been a hard pill to swallow he’d made his peace with it.
It meant he didn’t have time to waste.
It meant that he chose to live the way he wanted to without guilt or repercussion.
Which brings him here - to the sand and surf, to wading shoulder-deep with a stranger who has in all likelihood, and unbeknownst to him, sworn an oath to a life without he, or any male counterparts, in it. She rests a short space away, quieting the water between their bodies. He isn’t surprised that she’s come to join him, because in reality most interactions with the opposite sex were generally easy for Wane. Lanky and angular like his father - he is handsome in the ways that aren’t typical, or necessarily beautiful, but definable. He isn’t elegant, but there is something about the way he holds himself that always brings them in his direction.
Of course she came; they always did.
“You said you’ve only been here since the end of winter,” he says, serious again for a moment while he circles the water.
“Where were you before?”
He finds himself liking the way her mane sticks close to the skin of her neck when it’s wet. “I’m sorry,” he says then, before she can answer. “What did you say your name was again? Esss something?” Eszka. He remembers perfectly well, but has chosen instead to make her think he has forgotten. Often it made them want to be remembered, which in turn, generally worked out in his favour.
No, there’s nothing wicked in him - but there’s not a lot that’s moral, either.
@[Agnieszka]