A moment’s hesitation gives Lior enough time to approach her – their skins so close yet so far – but he doesn’t try to reach for her this time. There is a greater part of her that aches for the contact; her curiosity is getting the best of her. She has spent nearly two decades alone, confined within the fortification of her mind where no one and nothing could ever harm or touch her. The want is devouring her as their eyes briefly lock and when he mutters her name in a tone so familiarly flat. Even then, a shudder cartwheels through her and she wants to hear his voice again. ”Lior,” she begins again and takes a tedious, thoughtful step toward him.
But his eyes divert away from her and already her grip on him is easing away. The embrace that she has used with him is crumbling as he admires the coastline before shifting away from her and forging a distance that leaves her side frigid.
Good day, Nayl, he says, and her body freezes as though suddenly consumed by ice. She doesn’t turn to look at him, not yet, but she can hear his footsteps in the sand as they drift farther from her place. The muscles in her neck and shoulders twist and coil as fire crackles into her gaze and seethes at the horizon. He doesn’t stop, deciding to abandon her here, but she refuses him, refuses his answer and rejection.
Underneath their feet, the sand squirms. It rages and waves much like the tide they were staring at only moments prior. It comes to life, springing in front of him. The earth roars – a mighty beast – as it manipulates itself in front of Lior. A wall at first, then a gate that slams down in front of him, stopping him. A hiss rains down as sand clashes with sand, the magnitude of force startling as it sprays. ”Do not walk away from me, Lior.” Her voice matches the force and prowess of the living earth surrounding them. It’s grating, rough, and demanding but there is also a desperation underlying the ferocity of her command. She does well to mask it, not wanting to accept or express the truth behind her sinful lust.
The sand is alive, barricading them together, when she turns around to finally face him.
Stillwater. Lior.
Their names echo loudly in her thoughts, but it is Lior that her eyes thirstily drink in the sight of. It’s his softness that tempts her closer with another couple of steps before she forces herself to stop. ”I want you to come here,” her voice softens and lowers. Despite trying so hard to be strong, to be a fierce power in this equation, she is beginning to crumble as the memories of her life flash in fast-forward. There is only solitude, only loneliness. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she tries to see past her forelock into his silver eyes. ”Please,” her voice is barely above a whisper, almost drowned by the churning of her sand walls.
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