Interstice
The direction of escape is towards freedom. So what is 'escapism' an accusation of?
- Ursula K. Le Guin
Exactly two people on earth got to see Manon Blackbeak like this. Elide counted herself among them. Oh we few, we happy few …
“Get up Blackbeak!” She shouted, viciously chipper. Kicking the door to Manon’s apartment closed, Elide tucked the necklace chain that held her key back beneath her shirt and dumped a box of donuts on the kitchen counter. “Food!”
From the bedroom, Elide heard something that sounded suspiciously like a grumble. And something else that sounded almost exactly like a phone hitting the floor.
Approximately one minute later, Manon stumbled out, hair a complete fucking mess, wearing cat pajama pants from college and near-translucent old tee shirt – don’t look down, don’t you dare look down, eyes on the face.
Slumping onto the couch in her very open concept, very modern apartment, Manon tossed one arm over her eyes and groaned, “It’s 9 am, El. On a Saturday. What the fuck.”
“I brought donuts.”
That arm shifted up a fraction of an inch. “The shitty ones?”
“Like I'd buy any other kind. And coffee, the good stuff.”
“Oh thank fuck.” Manon then fell off the couch. She took her sweet time getting back up. Hopping onto the kitchen counter and starting on her coffee, Elide watched this all play out, deeply amused. She used to get to witness the production of ‘Manon Blackbeak Returns to the Land of Living’ every morning in college, but, you know. Rooming with Manon had been its own unique form of masochism.
Better like this.
Abraxos, Manon’s old wolf hound, wandered over to Elide and snuffled at her leg, gunning for a treat. Or two. Or three. And Elide might have slipped him one (or two, or three). What Manon didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. “Um. I will eat your donuts,” Elide eventually said, mostly sounding like she wasn’t laughing.
“Don’t you dare.” A middle finger appeared, deus ex machina, over the top of the couch.
“Cute.”
“El. It’s 9 am. I got to bed at 4 am.”
“It’s not my fault you have a shit sleep schedule.”
“I was working. Running Miami’s nightlife means I actually have to run Miami’s nightlife.”
“Wait, let me get out my really tiny violin and play it for you.”
“You suck ass.”
“Bit early for that kind of talk.”
Manon fell silent and Elide grinned. Elide: 1. Manon: 0.
Eventually, the Queen of Miami herself deigned to bless Elide with her presence. Manon started in on a powered donut with vicious intensity. Caught in the bright daylight of 9 am light, kind of a disaster, powered sugar everywhere – yeah only two people in the world got to see Manon Blackbeak like this and Asterin had better shit to do.
After Manon downed half her coffee and laid her head on the cool marble of the kitchen countertop, she managed to say, “Why?”
“Aelin and Rowan’s wedding.”
“Fuck.”
Patting Manon’s shoulder sympathetically, Elide bit back a smile.
“Is that tonight?” Manon grumbled.
“Four days in paradise – we fly out at one. Bachelorette party tomorrow, wedding festivities to follow.”
“Shoot me now.”
“Where would you like the bullet?” Elide asked sweetly. “Because I’m a damned good shot, I could hit you anywhere.”
“El?”
“Mhmm.”
“Shut up.”
“Harsh Blackbeak. I brought you donuts.”
“You woke me up at the ass crack of dawn. How did you know that I wouldn’t have … company.”
“I asked Asterin.” Elide shrugged, because that didn’t knife her. Company. Because she was over this. Over everything. Over Manon.
“Asterin wouldn’t know.”
“Asterin knows everything.”
Silence on the Western Front. Elide: 2. Manon: 0.
“Fine.” Manon sat up and shoved the stray hair out of her face, which definitely improved the tangled mess spilling over her shoulders. “I need to shower.” Scratching Abraxos’ head before grabbing her coffee, Manon drank like a dying woman as she walked towards the bathroom.
Manon left the door open and, over the sound of rushing water, she called out, “So who the hell else is coming?”
“You, me, Asterin – ” Elide started listing names, ticking them off on her fingers and determinedly not moving from the kitchen. Definitely not after she heard the shower door slide open, then shut.
“El! I’m taking a shower, not murdering kittens. Get in here, I can’t hear a fucking thing you’re saying.”
Okay. Great. Lovely. Elide slid off the counter, clutching her coffee like a lifeline. Whatever. Pray for me Abraxos (he just thumped his tail, adorable and very unhelpful). Edging into the bathroom, Elide carefully sat with her back against the tile wall so that she couldn’t actually see Manon. Just a shadow flickering in the corner of her eye.
Let’s try this again.
“Um.” Elide took a sip of coffee, attempting to marshal her thoughts. “You. Me. Asterin. Petrah. Aedoin. Dorian. Sorcha. Nehemia. Lysandra. Rowan and Aelin – obviously.”
“Obviously.” Manon parroted back at her drily. “Wait, why the hell is Asterin coming?”
“Jesus, Blackbeak, don’t you ever speak to your cousin?”
“Yes. El. And we spend all our time talking about Aelin Galathynius.”
“Somebody is a grump.”
“Somebody is avoiding the question.”
“Umm, have you forgotten that Asterin and Rowan are friends? Remember – Model UN, high school, day trip to Orlando, rogue clown, apparently a bonding experience that can’t be unbonded?”
“I’ve been trying to forget,” Manon muttered. “Anything else you care to mention?”
“Hey, I’m trying here. At least I didn’t have to peel myself off the floor this morning.”
Thrumming water filled their silence. Elide: 3. Manon: 0.
In that quiet, Elide tipped her head back and let the heat from Manon’s shower pour over her. She breathed in the spicy, spearmint scent of her shampoo and breathed out something that felt curiously like agony if you looked too closely. She knew that smell like she knew her own skin. Elide closed her eyes.
It’s better like this. Isn’t it? Nobody gets hurt.
“Salvaterre?” Manon’s voice jolted Elide from reverie.
“Yeah.” Elide replied softly. “Lorcan’s coming.”
The water shut off. Quiet.
Scrambling to her feet, Elide said, “I’m grabbing another donut. I know you haven’t packed yet – do it fast. We need to leave for the airport soon.” Anything to break that quiet.
Twenty-three minutes later, Manon walked out of her bedroom, suitcase in hand, backpack slung over one shoulder, murder in her eyes.
“Remind me why the fuck I’m doing this again?”
“Because your grandmother will actually kill you if you don’t?”
“Right. Anything to keep us in the Galathyniuses good graces. I swear Matron would tell me to fuck Aelin if she thought it would get us more money.” Dumping her backpack on the floor, Manon quickly braided her damp hair. White t-shirt so thin Elide could clearly see the outline of a black lace bra. Tight jeans. Combat boots. Fuck.
“Well thank god for all involved that Aelin’s straight.”
“Thank fuck for me, you mean. I can’t stand her.”
“You and Aelin have such a cute love-hate relationship.” Elide said sweetly, using the exact tone of voice that drove Manon up a wall.
“I do not love her. No love, Lochan. No. Love.”
“Me think she doth protest too much.” Elide shot back, really fucking enjoying herself. It was just … so easy to needle Manon about her rivalry with Aelin.
Whistling for Abraxos, Manon muttered, “Why does it have to be Galathynius’ parents who are investors in our company? Hades wasn’t open for business?”
“Main investors.” Elide clarified, real helpful like. She may or may not have been grinning. “Besides, Rhoe and Evalin adore you. They think you’re quote ‘a very sharp young lady.’ Don’t worry, Aelin pretends to vomit every time they say that. At least, I think she’s pretending …”
“They fucking better.” Manon spoke softly, her amber eyes burning through the expanse of the apartment’s glass windows, to the place where the ocean and horizon blurred into one. “Because one day, my grandmother’s empire is going to be mine. That fucking bitch. I’m going to take everything from her. I’m going to burn her kingdom down.”
Coming to stand beside Manon, Elide responded quietly, “Pace yourself. Strike when you know she’ll bleed.”
Nodding, Manon took one long breath in, one long breath out. “Let’s go. I’ll never hear the end of it if we’re late.”
They managed to drop Abraxos off with Sorrel, the only cousin Manon trusted not to inadvertently kill her dog, and the drive to the airport was uneventful, if you looked at it through the lens of no one actually dying. From another angle, it was a crash course on how to break most of the traffic laws in the United States.
“Sweet fuck,” Elide murmured when the car came to a stop. “Manon. This isn’t Grand Theft Auto. If we die, we like, actually die.”
“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Manon grinned at her, wicked and bright, as Elide finally cracked her eyelids open.
“Somewhere back at 70 miles an hour.”
“Driving in Florida is a contact sport. But you can get behind the wheel next time if you want.”
“No. Thank you. All good.”
Elide: 3. Manon: 1.
Damn it.
Tossing her car keys to the valet, Manon started walking into the hanger at the private airfield. Elide followed, rolling her eyes. Because the Galathyniuses had money, but this flashy display of wealth? All. Fucking. Rowan.
“So where is Salvaterre?” Manon asked like she didn’t care about the answer.
Liar.
Sighing through her nose, Elide humored the question. “Team thing this morning. I don’t know. Hockey shit.”
“Lucky me.” Manon muttered, getting an elbow to her ribs for the trouble. In retaliation, Manon grabbed Elide around the waist and tickled her mercilessly.
“Manon!” Elide gasped, breathlessly laughing, “Okay, I surrender, uncle, uncle!”
And right goddamned then, Lorcan walked in. What impeccable timing. As he sauntered over, Manon slowly let go of Elide’s waist, and maybe it was wishful thinking, but Elide felt Manon’s fingers linger for a moment. Just a breath. Holding on. At the far end of the hanger, their friends turned to subtly watch the shitshow go down. Fucking fantastic. Stepping away from Manon, Elide cleared her throat and shoved stray hair out of her face. “Hey.”
“Hi babe.” Lorcan responded, his eyes on Manon. “What’s up?”
“Manon’s just giving me shit because I gave her shit first. Come on, let’s go.” Grabbing Lorcan’s hand, Elide pulled him away, shooting Manon a grimace that tried for a smile. Sorry, she mouthed.
Manon stood stock-still, just for a moment, just for a breath, eyes unreadable in the shadows. Then, flicking her braid over one shoulder, she stalked over to where Asterin and Petrah were chatting with Rowan. Okay, good, this is fine. It’s fine.
When Lorcan leaned in to kiss Elide, she didn’t step back, but her cheeks flushed for a reason that had nothing to do with his tongue’s current position in her mouth. It wasn’t exactly a secret that no one here, with the notable exception of Rowan, liked Lorcan. And Rowan kinda had to, being, you know, Lorcan’s teammate. Everyone else’s feelings towards Lorcan ran the gamut from annoyance to active dislike (thanks Manon and Aelin). So, yeah. Getting not-so-subtly tongue fucked by Lorcan in front of them all in the middle of the afternoon was … awkward.
Pulling back, Elide quickly tugged her (getting ridiculously) long brown hair into a ponytail. “Um, should we …” She gestured weakly towards where everyone else stood, watching them without watching them. Great. Lovely. This will be fun.
“Sure babe.” Lorcan grinned down at her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close to his side. Elide relaxed into the touch. She would enjoy Aelin’s wedding. She was going to have some goddamned fun. Heaven help her, hell try to stop her.
“Aelin!” Darting forward, Elide pulled her sister into the tightest hug. Well, sister. No shared blood, but bound by the things that ran deeper. The life that couldn’t be unlived. The parents who raised Elide when her own family fell to the dogs. Aelin was her sister in the only ways that mattered.
“Ellie!” Aelin hugged her back just as tightly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “God, I haven’t seen you in weeks. Vet clinic keeping you busy?”
“You would not believe how many chihuahuas there are in Miami,” Elide responded, laughing.
“That statement is a hundred percent accurate. You know, I’m thinking about getting one,” Aelin said, swinging an arm over Elide’s shoulders and grinning at horrified expression slowly crawling across her face. “Kidding, I’m kidding.”
“You better be.”
“Untwist those panties, Ellie, and get ready to fucking party.”
“I’m more fun than you, so this shouldn’t be a problem,” Elide shot back, hip checking Aelin and smiling. She didn’t miss how Aelin stuck her tongue out in retaliation, and she didn’t miss the way Aelin subtly maneuvered them away from Lorcan. Remember, Elide. This wedding is going to be fun. It’s going to be a vacation. She would enjoy herself if it killed her.
It just might.
Then the next ten minutes became a wash of hellos! and how are yous? and it’s been way too longs! Walking onto the private jet (again, Rowan’s idea, but just watch and see if Aelin complained), Elide chose the seat next to Lorcan, gripping his hand and smiling. He smiled back, and that did nothing to hide the fact that his (cough cough spray-tanned) skin had gone a little pale. Lorcan would die before admitting it, but he was scared of flying. Elide only found out because he once spent an entire flight from Miami to San Diego throwing up. In case you’re wondering, that’s a long flight and a lot of puke.
The experience really cemented their relationship. It was that or run screaming for the hills, and Elide Lochan had never been a coward.
Manon walked straight past them, slumping into a seat across from Asterin before pulling out her phone.
“Lovely.” Lorcan muttered to Elide, “You think she’d have the manners to say hi.”
Bristling a bit at his tone and a bit more at the words, Elide took a deep breath. No fighting. Not again. Not this trip. Not when they were here to, in Aelin’s words, fucking party. So let’s keep the goddamned peace. “You know Manon. She isn’t conversant on the weekends.”
Lorcan snorted, sounding seriously unimpressed.
Take another breath Elide, that’s it. Take another long breath in.
That got a bit easier when Manon glanced up and flashed her a smile, sunlight across water, firefly flickering. Elide smiled back, waving her fingertips. Leaning back into the seat, Elide closed her eyes, the smile not quite faded from her lips. See. This would be fun.
The two-hour flight to Turks and Caicos was over before it really started, much to Aelin’s disappointment. They barely made it through three bottles of champagne (oh! the horror). Downing the rest of her glass, Elide stood, stretched, and assumed her hand would regain feeling at some point. Lorcan really hated flying, and he had a really tight grip.
In the ride to the hotel, Elide ignored offers of more champagne from Aelin Galathynius, aka one wild-ass bride-to-be. To absolutely no one’s surprise, the party bus was Aelin’s idea. Rolling her eyes at her dearly beloved and deeply strange sister, Elide turned to the window and let the azure island beauty pour through her. As a very little girl, back when memory was just a watercolor thing, Elide’s mother would bring her down the ocean and her father would dance with her in the waves.
Now – Elide swallowed back the tears, everything that hurt. Now – she was happy to be here. She missed the sea. Even when she stood knee deep in the waters. She missed her mum and dad. She ached for them, always.
“You good?” Lorcan nudged her shoulder, giving her a half smile.
“Yeah. All good.” Elide leaned up to kiss his check, breathing in the heady scent of his cologne, cedar and wood smoke. “Just happy to be here.”
“Me too, babe.” Lorcan returned the favor, kissing her and deliberately rubbing his five o’clock shadow against her cheek. Laughing, Elide shoved him away before letting herself get reeled in for another kiss, deep and slow.
That lasted all of five seconds before Aelin threw a champagne cork at Lorcan’s head, saying, “Oy! Hands off my sis! There are some things I never need to see, and that’s a lot of them.”
“For once I agree with Galathynius,” Manon drawled. “Spare our eyes.”
“Oh, your eyes have seen much worse Blackbeak.” Elide shot back, turning to mock-glare at Manon.
“Debatable.”
“Ugh,” Aelin groaned. “Everyone please stop talking and please start drinking.” She shoved an entire champagne bottle into Elide’s hands. “Drink, drink.” So Elide drank, drank.
And the booze definitely didn’t go to her head.
Time to swim, swim. An hour or two later (who really, truly cared) Elide took another sip of Mai Tai and stared thoughtfully into her suitcase. Who knew where the Mai Tai had come from? Elide certainly didn’t. But it was in her hands, and, waste not want not, she drank it.
Maureen, Elide’s work wife at the vet clinic and wing-woman extraordinaire, had helped her choose three swimsuits for the trip. But now … Elide was already a lot of booze into the day and decisions were hard. With Lorcan in the shower (and god only knew he would be there for at least another half hour, going through his skin care routine), Elide really needed to seek out another opinion.
Where the fuck was Manon?
In her room, it turned out, also unpacking. But Manon seemed significantly more sober and a hell of a lot more put together than Elide at the moment. Or Elide ever, really. It wasn’t fair. Elide had been watching Manon Blackbeak her entire life, and it just wasn’t fucking fair, the uncanny grace with which the other woman lived.
“Hey.” Manon glanced over at her. “What’s up?”
In lieu of answering, Elide collapsed onto her bed. “Ugh.”
“Cute – move over.”
“Nah.”
“Fine then.” Manon said, dumping clothes from her suitcase directly onto Elide.
“Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
“You aren’t sharing a room with Asterin?” Elide asked, half sitting up and shoving the tangle of Manon’s bras to one side.
“Are you drunk?” Manon waved a hand in front of Elide’s face. “Petrah’s here, remember? For some ungodly reason, Galathynius likes her.”
“Oh come on, you love Petrah. And she and Asterin aren’t that bad.” Elide flopped back onto the bed, watching the ceiling fan’s lazy rotation. “They’re like, couple goals.” Spin, spin. Spin, spin. She really was very comfortable.
“In public, sure. In private? I want to make it through the next five days without needing to bleach my eyeballs.”
“Mhmm, you’re no fun.”
“How many Mai Tais in are you? Why are you even drinking Mai Tais?”
“Shut up Blackbeak.”
Elide started drifting off to the sound of Manon laughing at her, completely forgetting about why she showed up in the first place, when Manon’s sudden “Fuck!” jolted her awake.
“Huh – what?”
“Damn it!” Manon dumped some more clothes onto Elide. “I forgot my vibrator. This, this, is why I don’t try to pack in 20 minutes.”
“It’s only four days. I’m sure you’ll survive.” Elide kept her eyes closed, trying to not envision anything behind them. Nothing at all.
Over this. Over everything. Over Manon.
“Oh it’s been a lot longer than five days, Lochan.” Manon muttered. “Fucking weeks.”
“What about … what’s her name? Jessica? Jennifer?”
“Jacinta. And no, we didn’t go any further than those staged paparazzi photos. My grandmother wanted me seen out with her, good publicity apparently.” Manon said bitterly.
“Bitch.”
“Damn right.” Manon fist bumped Elide. “Now what the fuck am I going to do?”
“Ummm. Do I actually need to answer that or …?”
Chuckling, Manon slammed the lid of her suitcase shut. “I think I can figure out the mechanics for myself. But thanks for the offer.”
“No problem.” Elide responded weakly.
“Now as much fun as this conversation has been, what the hell are you doing here?”
“Swimsuit. Opinion. Help.”
“Wear one?” Manon quirked an eyebrow, clearly amused.
“Not helpful.” Elide sat up and proceeded to start drinking again.
Rolling her eyes, Manon gave in. She always gave in for Elide. “Okay, show me the options.”
“Ugh thanks love, you’re saving my actual life.” Elide didn’t mean to use that old endearment, the one she’d learned as a child, love, her mother’s British accent curling softly around the sound. Elide’s word for Manon before the world had gotten so fucking complicated, love, but my god day drinking was a dangerous game to play.
Manon acted like she didn’t notice. Maybe she hadn’t.
Moving on.
Pushing Manon’s shit to one side, Elide laid out the swimsuits and stepped back, awaiting judgement day. She drank more – this will solve everything.
For a long, long moment, Manon stared down, immobile, and the air went sharp. Reaching out, Manon trailed a careful finger down the edge of a bikini top. “This one,” she finally breathed out.
“You sure?” Elide … liked that one. But it also slightly terrified her. It had mostly almost entirely been Maureen’s bad idea, too little fabric and too many straps, impractical and ridiculous and kinda fucking glorious.
“Yeah.” Manon stepped back, exhaled. “I mean, the idea is to break Salvaterre’s brain right? This will do it.”
“Okay. Great.” Elide gathered the swimsuits off Manon’s bed, suddenly unsure when she had forgotten to breathe. “Cool. You’re coming right?”
“Swimming?” Manon asked, like she really wasn’t paying attention. “Yeah, sure.”
“Okay, see you there.” Elide turned to leave. Elide paused at the doorway. And Elide turned back – there stood Manon, staring across the room, out the window, to the place where the ocean burned a line against the horizon.
Don’t ask Elide why she hesitated there.
And don’t ask her why she left. Don’t ask. Don’t ask.
Lorcan, Elide was pleased to note, liked the swimsuit. He really liked the swimsuit. So much, in fact, that they got down and dirty and showed up 45 minutes late to the beach party. Elide vowed to make Dorian and Rowan pay for their wolf whistles, right after she stopped blushing. So next year maybe?
“Shut up!” Lorcan yelled, grinning, clearly not meaning a single word. Planting a massive kiss on Elide’s cheek, he bounded over to join the hockey player bro fest. Beers and football and … boobs? Elide honestly couldn’t give less of a fuck about what dudes discussed when they duded out together.
Grabbing a bottle of vodka, as in the straight up bottle, Elide wandered over to where Alein, Nehemia, and Lysandra sat and tried to ignore the raucous sounds coming from tailgate central, Turks and Caicos edition.
“’Sup Ellie.” Aelin patted an empty section of towel beside her and Elide gratefully flopped down.
Grinning at Elide, Lysandra asked, “Having a good day?”
“Lys!” Elide groaned, covering her still blushing face with both hands.
“Oh come on! You very much so have the I just had a great fuck face. Besides, and no offense, Lorcan is … good god, I’d climb that man like a fucking tree.”
“None taken. Lorcan is very …” Elide also trailed off, staring at the way his muscles rippled under his skin and how the tropical sunlight burnished his body to bronze. There were some definite advantages to dating a professional hockey player. “Yeah.”
“Eww guys.” Aelin stole the vodka bottle before Elide could take so much as a sip. “Get a real drink, hon. Here – have this.” She shoved another Mai Tai into Elide’s hands. Well, alrighty then. Who am I am to disagree?
“What are we talking about?” Manon came over, sitting on the beach towel beside Nehemia. Aviators, bikini top, jean shorts, silvery blond hair flicking loose in the Caribbean breeze – Jesus, Manon. She had, and this was a totally objective opinion, great breasts. Ask anyone. Okay, maybe don’t ask Elide.
Damn it. Elide choked a bit on her drink. It was just the sudden rush of booze. Just booze.
“Elide’s just been fucked face. And Lorcan’s muscles.”
“Lys!” Elide hissed, her face now rapidly approaching the same color scheme as an overripe tomato. “Shut the fuck up.”
“Whatever you say.” Lysandra grinned and shrugged, her goal clearly accomplished.
Manon didn’t say anything at all. Elide tried not to think about that. She did grab the vodka bottle from Aelin and drink straight from it. Elide tried not to think about that either.
Deep breathing.
Nehemia, obviously deciding that whatever game Lysandra was playing looked like too fun not to join, chimed in and asked, “But is he good in bed? No, not Rowan, Aelin, you text me about that like daily. Lorcan. Is Lorcan good in bed?”
Not for the first time in her life, Elide prayed for immediate end to the actual world. “Um.” She cleared her throat and tried again, “Uh.” Great start. “Well.”
Rolling her eyes, Nehemia said, “Jesus Christ, Elide, spit it out!”
It took a solid three minutes for everyone to stop laughing at that. Lysandra still hiccupped every few seconds. Aelin looked like she wanted to bury her head in the sand and stay there, possibly forever. And Manon, well Manon and the vodka bottle were becoming very good friends.
“Okay.” Nehemia tried to swallow a laugh and it only partially worked. “But the question stands. And I feel like by not answering it, you’re kinda answering it, you know?”
Wrapping her arms around Elide’s waist, Aelin said, “No Ellie, don’t answer, ever. You’re my baby sis. You’re permanently ten in my head. Don’t scar me for life, I beg you!”
“You’re only six months older than me, idiot.” Elide pressed a kiss into Aelin’s hair. “Better plug your ears.”
She had no reason to avoid the question. And she had nobody to hide the truth from. Nobody. “Yeah, the sex is pretty fantastic.”
Lysandra whooped, punching a fist in the air, “I knew it! I knew there had to be a reason you stayed with him.”
“Cut that shit out.” Elide shot back, not pausing for a beat. Go down fighting, come out swinging. “Seriously. I know none of you like him,” she fixed particularly fierce glares on Manon and Aelin, “but I do. So fucking deal with it.”
The tension stretched between the three of them, thinner and thinner, until Aelin bit the goddamned bullet. “Fine. But give me three jokes between now and the wedding. Just three. And then – ” she mimed locking her lips shut.
“Deal.” Elide responded, but her eyes were on Manon as she said it. No special dispensation for you. Manon seemed to get the message, because she nodded, just the faintest tilt of her head.
So be it. So let it be.
The vodka bottle passed from Manon, to Nehemia, back to her.
“I’m going swimming.” Elide brushed sand off all the annoying places sand tends to go. “If I drown, it’s someone else’s fault.” Not looking back, Elide slipped into the shallows of soft water, warm and sweet. Eyes open, blue into blue into blue, it felt like falling up, like rising.