04-29-2023, 12:53 PM
i showed him all my teeth & then i laughed out loud,
because i never wanted saving, i just wanted to be found
because i never wanted saving, i just wanted to be found
Adriana had her own armor, though hers is a bit more plain. The frost-covered scales that laced along her body were far too easy for her to hide behind; many did not care for the way it felt, how they melted and shifted beneath the warmth of their touch. They gave the impression that she is something harsh and cold, and while there were moments she certainly could be—her parents both hosted predators’ blood, it was not in her nature to be soft— she could be melted just as easily as her scales.
But it was safer, in her experience, to play the part of the frigid siren.
To be clever and beautiful and untouchable, fitting into the mold of what many thought she should be.
“Why am I here?” she laughs, as if in disbelief that he would even ask, stealing a glance back to the waves that roll lazily up the shore. To her, it felt obvious—seashells tangled in her mane, scales glittering on her skin, and water spilling from her shoulders to cascade along her sides. The ocean was her sanctuary, a piece of her as much as her very heart, flesh, and bone. “I’m here for the sea,” she says, turning her eyes back to him for a half a heartbeat before she feels the shadow that twines around her leg and she looks down.
Part of her wants to recoil; she is not accustomed to shadow magic, and the sight and feel of a nearly tangible darkness sends the slightest prickling of fear down the ridge of her spine. But she is curious, too, and also still far too proud to show when she is afraid; she’d let the darkness swallow her whole before she ran from it. “It’s quieter beneath the waves,” she continues, lowering her head to just barely brush her golden nose to the tendril of darkness that encircles her leg like a bracelet—or a shackle. “I’m sure your shadows provide you with the same kind of sanctuary.”
She steps towards him, then, ignoring the pull of darkness—whether it tries to anchor her in place, or willingly gives once it realizes she is moving closer to the source of its power. “You never told me your name. Don’t make me come up with one for you, shadow-weaver, I promise it will be something dreadful.”
But it was safer, in her experience, to play the part of the frigid siren.
To be clever and beautiful and untouchable, fitting into the mold of what many thought she should be.
“Why am I here?” she laughs, as if in disbelief that he would even ask, stealing a glance back to the waves that roll lazily up the shore. To her, it felt obvious—seashells tangled in her mane, scales glittering on her skin, and water spilling from her shoulders to cascade along her sides. The ocean was her sanctuary, a piece of her as much as her very heart, flesh, and bone. “I’m here for the sea,” she says, turning her eyes back to him for a half a heartbeat before she feels the shadow that twines around her leg and she looks down.
Part of her wants to recoil; she is not accustomed to shadow magic, and the sight and feel of a nearly tangible darkness sends the slightest prickling of fear down the ridge of her spine. But she is curious, too, and also still far too proud to show when she is afraid; she’d let the darkness swallow her whole before she ran from it. “It’s quieter beneath the waves,” she continues, lowering her head to just barely brush her golden nose to the tendril of darkness that encircles her leg like a bracelet—or a shackle. “I’m sure your shadows provide you with the same kind of sanctuary.”
She steps towards him, then, ignoring the pull of darkness—whether it tries to anchor her in place, or willingly gives once it realizes she is moving closer to the source of its power. “You never told me your name. Don’t make me come up with one for you, shadow-weaver, I promise it will be something dreadful.”
A D R I A N A