we are slaves to the sirens of the salty sea
Does Evia know what love is?
Could she ever put it into words?
She’s not sure. She has never witnessed such a thing before—never been able to know what it means to truly love something. Her parents had not loved each other. Ivar had not loved her. She had not loved any of her children, not truly. So does she love Jamie? It is an impossible question for her to fathom, let alone try to answer. There is no answer to be had because her heart does not beat in the same rhythms as this world. She belongs to him, in pieces, and there are pieces of him that now belong to her—
and that is enough.
More than enough.
She relishes the feel of his dark muzzle against her. Relishes the reaper’s touch for all of the difference he is and the way that he feels against her slick scaled body. When he pulls back, she studies his yellow eyes as though answers could be found there and though she would be able to discern them if they were.
“I can take you,” she says simply, knowing that she would be able to find the pockets of dark with ease. Knowing that he would be able to follow her. She had never swum with anyone like that before. Her swims with Ivar had always been something different entirely—and she had never taken him to the parts of the ocean that intrigue her the most. The places where she rests beneath the pounding of the tides.
But she would take him.
At her next question, she tilts her slight head, curious.
“Do I need to?”
@[jamie]