The Sea remembers

[Session 18, 06.06.2024 ]
 
The sea remembers
 
The day has been long - first the spectacularly not good dinner time with Vuoksi and their new spouse, Mistral, and after, the taxing conversation with Rusalka. While talking about our feelings and … whatever schism has been brewing between us ever since Spindrift Castle ( ever since Valerian ), I’m quite happy that we’ve finally talked things through, at least to some extent. But having to be so emotionally involved all day has been quite a wringer, and I’m ready to hit the hay. There’s already stars twinkling into existence, and I look up to count three, five, seven - a familiar constellation that signals home. No matter where I am, if I find those, it feels home can’t be that far away.
 
As I head back to the main house, I see Eira pacing in the garden, walking under the flowering trees. White clementine blossoms waft their scent in the warm evening breeze, and it mixes in with the salt of the sea. Quietly, mindful of Kazys sleeping in the living room, I leave my sandals at the door and head to the bathroom, washing up before bed. It’s almost surreal, the mundanity of being back home, drying my face with the same threadbare towel I’ve used most of my life, as if nothing’s happened. As if I hadn't seen the horrors of Spindrift castle, or the aftermath of the burning village. The bodies and gore on the floor, burst open and mutilated in a sea of their own blood.
I wash my face, brush my teeth. The salve tastes like apricot and mint. It’s made by Mrs Marlin, from the village. I spit out the foam, wash my face again. There’s a small, slightly crooked mirror in the bathroom. I almost expect myself to look notably different, but nothing has really changed, even though it feels like years have passed. I still have the same spatter of sun freckles across his nose and cheeks, the same nick of a scar on his jawline from a botched attempt at shaving for the first time. I leave my dirty clothes in the hamper to wash away the dust and grime of the journey, taking my time to properly wash up before bed. I’ve shared a bed with people before, but knowing Luciano and his noble sensibilities, perhaps it’s best to.. be a little more courteous. Besides, taking a moment just to not think is … nice. If I shake my head like a dog to get rid of most of the water in my wet hair, no one needs to know. (Rusalka knows, and Rusalka has always hated the habit.)
 
When I head up to my own room, automatically stepping over the fifth step that creaks, I find Luciano already tucked in my bed, his items neatly arranged in the corner. He’s not wearing his veil, but his eyes are closed. Turning around, I take a moment to change into worn linen trousers, leaving the towel to dry at the door handle. For almost a second, I consider whether a shirt might be polite, but at the end of the day, I’m at home and Luciano has seen me shirtless now countless times, anyway. It’s summer, and the air is balmy at best. Quietly, I tiptoe to the window to open it a little more, pulling the small iron clasp to attach it to the hook on the wall to keep the window from shutting. On the windowsill there’s a small collection of seashells I’ve collected when I was younger. I know them all by touch, each groove and nook and how they feel in my palm.
 
 
 
As quietly as I can, I go to bed.
 
-
 
Kit's shoal is quiet. It's almost too quiet for Luciano, who is used to cities and constant noise.
 
Luciano doesn't want to think about it too much, so he just tries to fall asleep. Tierna has offered to share his bed, and although Luciano doesn't want to intrude, he really hates sleeping on the floor. And hey, Tierna says that it's okay, and at this point... Luciano is pretty sure that both of them agree that this is convenient and there's really no space for misunderstanding between them.
 
Except. How does Luciano keep finding himself in these situations?
 
Luciano flinches, and suddenly he is sitting and staring at Tierna. He knows that his eyes have a faint, unsettling glow, but at this point - nothing Tierna hasn't seen before. Maybe just not as close, but still.
 
"Hey, Tierna", he calls quietly.
"Did you explain your... Situationship to your ma?" He asks.
 
-
 
Oh. Well.
 
Luciano’s sitting up on the bed, the faint glow of his eyes the only light in the room. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind, that Ma might think me and Luciano were more than friends. I’m used to sharing my bed with Antoine, but then again, that does not really help my case here, does it.
 
I blink a few times, enough to get the remnants of sleep shaken away to fully focus on the conversation. I should have worn a shirt for this.
 
“I uh.” No, I never had the chance to mention Valerian to Ma, when they were busy talking about Vuoksi and their new spouse, and what’s been happening in the village. With the priests. Not to mention that talking about Valerian when me and Rusalka have been fighting about him… is not something I've been particularly keen to bring up.
“No, I’ll tell her tomorrow. You don’t have to worry, I’m sure Ma won’t think that. Uh,” I awkwardly let the end of my sentence fizzle out. Saying it out loud would only make it weirder. “I’m sure mom won’t think we’re fucking each other, so don’t worry about it.” Yeah, no. The thought is… embarrassing, but strangely, it makes me remember the fight at Spindrift castle, the dedication in Luciano’s eyes when he sunk his blade into Lady Ingrosso's back. The fight that followed, how I was desperately calling for whatever higher powers to keep Luciano from bleeding out right there on the marbled floors of Spindrift Castle. The strange intimacy of it.
 
“Did that heal properly, by the way? The stab wounds, I mean.” Maybe that’s enough to distract them both from the awkwardness of the other conversation.
 
He really should have worn that shirt.
 
-
 
Luciano blinks his eyes. He wants to trust Tierna, but it's still... Oh well. Luciano chooses to trust Tierna's words. After all, it's Tierna's ma, and if Tierna says that it's okay... He wouldn't lie to Luciano only to make Luciano feel better? Although, he thinks that Tierna would definitely lie to make people feel better, but he also believes that Tierna would be a bad liar. He just knows.
 
Tierna's question confuses him. He's too tired to play it cool, to hide the unsureness.
 
He did get stabbed pretty badly, but that is his life. Luciano can only hope that it will last longer than lady Adei's enemies. Or maybe he hopes that before dying he will live a happy life, a life that is worth living.
 
Luciano touches the stab wound on his side, traces his finger over the scar.
"It's not hurting anymore", he tells. "And the scar is nothing new."
Under all the beautiful clothes, Luciano knows that he is ugly. Not from his face, no - but there is a reason, why he is wearing a shirt. He's not embarrassed of the ugly scars, but... He knows that when people see him, they are not expecting that.
 
"Thanks. For healing it. And helping at the castle", Luciano says, and he really means it.
-
 
We try to sleep, after that. Clearly it’s been years since the last time I’ve shared a bed with even Ant, because I don’t remember my bed being so small - I awkwardly try to sleep with my back turned to Luciano, until he carefully asks me to turn around because my tail keeps tickling his leg. Luciano sleeps neatly tucked into the corner against the wall, I feel like I keep tossing and turning all night. In the end, I end up smushing my face against the pillow and sleeping on my tummy, my tail hanging from the bed.
 
I dream of eating figs, and getting chased by Nettie’s old large cat. The dream transforms into a hedge labyrinth, with roses and wisterias blooming in the night. Intrinsically, I know the dream takes place in the Spindrift castle gardens despite there never having been a hedge maze, and I’m looking for Valerian. Or Rusalka, I don’t quite know which. Perhaps it is the both of them that I have lost.
 
I wake up feeling groggy and not particularly well-rested. Luciano is still sleeping. I doubt he would ever believe me if I told him that he snores ever so slightly, but in the quiet, not-particularly-bothering type of way. I dress up for the day, digging up an old tunic from my wardrobe and some looser trousers to go with it, forgoing the leathers I’ve been wearing for travel. When I head down, it seems that Kazys and Eira are already awake, chatting with Ma and setting up a breakfast table. The sight makes me happy, if I’m being honest. Ma asks if I could pop by the market to get some fresh bread, and Kazys volunteers to go with me.
 
We chat while we walk, I point out things I think he might find interesting. The neighbours, any stories I might remember about them. Where I fell from a tree when I was nine. The old farmer whose goats chased me and Rusalka when we dared to steal berries from their garden. Eventually, we arrive at the market, the stalls weatherworn but still colourful. Most have little awnings set up for their customers, little rickety tables and chairs where to enjoy a cup of freshly brewed drinks. I see familiar faces all around, mostly the elderly. Old man Pike and his friend Fisher (who owns the windmill, funnily enough) are playing chess in the morning sun. They greet us, and I introduce Kazys as my friend. I only vince slightly when I realise this too will become a rumour about town, but I feel like most things would. Kit’s Shoal rarely sees new people.
 
Old man Pike tells us that his grandson Mackerel has decided to move out and how he’s finally travelled to the Capital where his musical career is surely to hit off. I remember his peculiar way of talking fast without holding much of a tune, but wish him the best nonetheless. I ask around about the priests Ma and Vuoksi mentioned in passing, and the men confirm that there has been some rabble-rousing a couple of weeks ago. Men dressed in all white came asking about weird questions regarding the arcane, and how our mother practically chased them off our home. I’m proud of her, and I tell them that.
 
We get fresh bread, the one with honey and herbs baked in. I get to pick a favourite when I’m the one paying. And because I’m a great older brother, I pick another loaf as well, the fluffy cloud-like milk bread Rusalka has always had a craving for. Mrs Marlin is starting to get grey at the temples, but she still looks the same she always has. I thank her for the bread and wish her a good, sunny day as well. I’m quite glad Kazys seems to be quite charmed by the village in general, small-town life is after all so different from what he must have been used to, living in the Capital. I ask if it’s fine by him if we stop by Antoine’s before we head back home, the letter in my pocket waiting to be delivered. Thankfully it’s not much of a detour to walk to Nettie’s, the house looking just as inviting as I remembered. The stone house has been chalk-painted in bright yellow, and some of the seashells on the roof look pristine, much like Ma said. Antoine and his … friend have done good job. I only feel a slight pang of jealousy when I think about them, and the voice telling me that should have been me and him is childish at best, not worthy of my attention. Nettie is out in the gardens, tending to her camellias when we arrive. I dump the food we bought at the market in Kazys’ arms and go for a hug, lifting Nettie off her feet before setting her back down. I introduce her as my best friend’s mother, almost like a second mother to me. Kazys gets also introduced, and I truly, truly hope Nettie doesn’t get the wrong picture. We talk for a little while, I invite her over for dinner later if we happen to be back from our little planned day trip.
 
She tells me about Antoine’s new … friend, who seems to know a thing or two about magic. Inwardly, I sigh in relief as it sounds like they are likely not involved with the Order of priests. A floaty fellow, helping to fix the roof and all. I would like to meet this Wren guy, I trust Antoine’s judgement. Perhaps more than I should trust my own. Nettie shares that she overheard Ma fighting with the priests, how she had yelled at them to leave before they regret it. Apparently they had harassed Luode as well, burning some of her books. Despite the fact that I’ve never particularly cared about Luode or Vuoksi, that makes my blood boil. Who are these people thinking they have the right to just do that?
 
Eventually, we say our goodbyes and head back to our place. I see Rusalka has also gotten up, they’re tending to the animals with Eira. Apparently Eira is.. Not the best helper in the kitchen, clumsy as she is. It’s a good thing she’s also handy with her spells.
 
We enjoy breakfast (there’s figs!) and chat about things. It’s not just Rusalka and I who are curious about Ma’s version of the events, how she chased away the priests. Ma shares more about the events, how the priests had come here too, demanding to see whether she keeps any magical tomes or grimoires or anything of the sort. She mentions that they’ve burned Luode’s books, most of the things she’s inherited from our grandmother - I notice the peculiar comment about how Luode didn’t get “the better stuff”, anyway. Which Ma does not thankfully keep hidden at the house… Where then, I wonder.
 
I’ve seen her use magic all my life, without ever particularly thinking about the source of it - after all, all of us are quite adept at regular, everyday magic, me and Rusalka included. I’ve always regarded it as just a regular thing for us tieflings, but perhaps there’s more to it than that. Most likely is, and I’ve just never thought about it, much like is my fashion.
 
I know I promised Luciano to tell Ma about Valerian, but at the breakfast table with everyone else present feels.. Hardly like the best moment to do so. I notice him lift his eyebrows clearly in the manner of urging me to mention Valerian, to clear any possible misunderstandings. I do not do that, even if I do end up talking about him. How he seemed to perceive that Lady of the Tide is trapped somehow, and how he owed his life in servitude to figuring out how to free her. Perhaps that’s something that’s a common belief for the priests of the Order, or perhaps that’s more of a personal belief for Valerian. Which one it is, I do not know. Yet. I notice Ma pays attention when I mention Valerian, and I tell her that I will chat with her later, as we ought to get going soon - after all, we did promise Vuoksi we would go see this priest of theirs by noon.
 
I’m not really looking forward to spending yet another day with our cousin, but clearly they’re getting involved and we ought to know everything we can about the priests, especially if one of them lives this close to Shoal.
 
“You’re late,” they tell us, and while I grit my teeth, I’m mostly just happy they chose to wait for us by the crossroads. Luciano and Rusalka actually try to argue about the minutiae of their claim, and secretly I’m glad they too seem to be somewhat annoyed by Vuoksi’s presence. I ask about whose boat we’re taking, and they casually mention we’re taking Luode’s rowboat, it being slightly larger than ours. And probably more well tended to, I cringe as I think how I haven’t been home in a good long while, and whenever I am, maintaining the boat is hardly on the top of my list of things to do. It could probably use a proper scrub and and a new coat of tar.
 
Luode’s boat is waiting for us in the small bay where the path from our house leads to. I know the waters fairly well, so I don’t mind rowing the boat, I know there’s more rocks underwater than the namesake of the town. I’m surprised when Vuoksi offers to help me push the boat in the water, and I hold it secure while everyone else hops on. I don’t mind getting my feet wet, but what’s strange is carrying my rapier while doing something so mundane. Eventually, we set out onto the sea, the seagulls screeching above us. It’s a lovely day, about to get a lot warmer as the sun keeps shining above us. The water is clear for the most part, and I can’t resist the urge to dip my tail in the water as I row us forward. Vuoksi has told us to head to one of the larger islands nearby, the one with the tallest tree standing alone on a hilltop. I know the one, it’s riddled with caves and has a lovely, sandy beach that is more private than the shores of Shoal.
 
After a while, Vuoksi relieves me from my rowing duties, and the gesture is so odd that I thank them, genuinely. I sit back and relax, just enjoying the view. We could have taken fishing rods with us, brought dinner while we’re at it. I pull my straw hat over my eyes, fiddle with the two seashells I’ve strapped to my belt. The other one is still new to me, I’m not used to its shape quite yet.
 
Hey Tierna. I, uh, the conch is now safe. You can keep it on your person. The other conch, you can reach me at dawn or dusk.
 
Suddenly, I hear Valerian’s voice in my head, clear and crisp as if he was sitting right next to me. Rusalka looks at me weirdly when I startle, looking around for the source of the sound before I realise it’s sent to me from afar, much like Belinda’s pearl magic. I hold Valerian’s conch, but the sound doesn’t seem to resonate from there, I don’t sense its magic at all. I also flinch a little at how Valerian mentions how I can keep the shell with me now, as if I haven’t kept it with me this whole time already. Oops.
 
It takes only a little while after that until we arrive to the island, the hull of the boat scraping at the sandy bottom of the beach until it finally stops moving altogether. Me and Vuoksi pull it up to the sand to safety, making sure to haul it up enough to be safe from the tide. It would suck to get stuck on the island with no means of leaving. I excuse myself for a moment, still distracted by the spell. I notice Rusalka giving me another weird look, but they relent when I, perhaps crudely, mention I need to take a leak.
 
I’m not quite sure how the magic works, but I feel it still simmering through me, the connection present.
 
I have the shell on my person already. I will message you at dusk. I returned home, heard there’s been priests.
 
And after a pause, I add.
 
Hey. I miss you.
 
When I return, everyone else is already following Vuoksi to the mouth of one of the caves on the island. It’s the biggest one, I think. I don’t particularly like caves, much for the same reason as I’m not particular to forests. The lack of seeing a horizon makes me nervous, but the caves near home are .. less scary. In theory, at least.
 
Vuoksi leads us down a twisting path until finally, we begin to see a faint glow of bioluminescent algae. The narrow tunnel opens up to a larger part of the cave, with a small pool of water at the back of it - the faint glow is coming from the pool. I think we’re all thinking of the twisted creature we freed from under the Spindrift castle, and the whole… crab situation. I notice my friends pulling out their weapons carefully, just as a precaution. Rusalka asks Vuoksi if this is where the priest lives, and they reply quite jovially that indeed, this is where they remain. Kazys clears his throat and points out that there are white garments in the pool. Three bodies, total. Drowned, by the looks of it.
 
Oh. So that’s what Vuoksi meant by helping them.
 
The sea remembers, I know this to be true. Water holds the world’s memories, and sometimes, if you perish at sea, it will bring you back. Not the same you, but a memory of you, built from the perceptions of others and the world itself. There’s comfort in the thought, how the cycle of life might continue. Water retains traces of anything you mix with it, so why not life itself?
 
Vuoksi tells us how they helped them, how the Sea did not deem them worthy of returning. The monotone, calm voice they tell this with gives me chills. Vuoksi outright admits to murdering these people, but then again, are we not all here with our weapons drawn? On a self-justified journey to stop the very order of priests whose officials now lie dead at our feet?
 
I ask Vuoksi whether they know about the Order, about the symbolism of the ring that they gave to their new spouse. I don’t mention that in my pocket, I have the same ring. They genuinely don’t seem to know or to care, which is oddly comforting. They only knew about the priests worshipping the Goddess of the Sea and thought to help with their quest. The Sea did not deem them worthy of returning.
 
There’s slight movement in the corner of my eye, and before I notice, all three of the bloated corpses have stood up in the shallow pool of water. Great. Just. Great.
 
I tell Vuoksi to stand back and not get more involved, and then shift my focus back to the undead corpse closest to us. I tell everyone to cover their ears as I call forth the power of the storms, a thunderous crackle reverberating through the cave walls, its echo bouncing off the stone. My rapier does little damage even when it punctures right through the flesh of the corpse, but I feel like the magic might have helped. Surprisingly, Vuoksi does not listen to me and helps with the fight, at least to some extent.
 
Surprising no one, Eira manages to cleave one of the corpses almost in half without barely even trying (damn, I really need to ask her about her secrets.) I notice her heaving breaths when one of the corpses touches her, and it looks like she might faint for a moment - until the moment passes and she gathers her strength back up, preparing for another strike.
 
Eventually, the fight is over before we even notice. Once again I find myself hip-deep in the water, having waded into the pool to get at one of the corpses - I don’t really want to think about how long they’ve been here, and how much the water retains their … corpseness. The algae seems to like it, at least.
 
We drag the bodies up on dry land, much to Vuoksi’s chagrin. I think everyone is wondering about the same thing, whether they might just rise again if we leave them in the pool, and besides, they might have something important on them. I try not to think about how their robes are similar to Valerian’s. I dig my hand into one of the pockets, but all I find is waterlogged items, not useful for anything. I ask whether Vuoksi might have gotten the ring they gave to their spouse from these guys and they confirm my suspicions. Apparently they had asked, nicely, after their deaths.
 
Apparently they weren’t worthy of awakening again, of keeping the memories alive. Vuoksi shares with us that they have been talking with the priests, presumably after their death. How if anyone asks, they have headed to Joe’s Bluff, the neighbouring village. I don’t intend to change that story. One of the priests looks as if they had been here for a longer time, and I’m reminded of Ma mentioning how there had been more than one priest visiting. I suppose they’ve all met the same fate, eventually. If Vuoksi is keeping Kit’s Shoal safe with their antics, I’m… horrified of myself, but at the end of the day, I actually support them. One of them hails from the same village as Valerian, which concerns me somewhat. I wonder if he would know more about this person.
 
I suggest we give them each a proper burial at the open sea, not this… mockery of one. I don’t mention how distasteful I find Vuoksi’s practices, they ought to know better than this. But they agree, and we haul the bodies up on the beach and into the boat. Once we head out to open water, it takes some effort to throw each of the bodies overboard. It’s nasty work, but I feel that even they deserve to be buried properly. Quietly, I pray to the gods to not remember them, and to let them rest at the bottom of the sea until their bodies turn to salt and seafoam.
 
It is late afternoon when we row the boat back to the bay by the house. Kazys, Lucy and Eira all look like they’ve got their noses and cheeks burned by the sun. Perhaps Ma has some salve for them in her cabinets.
 
We head back home.