no one really knows what the ocean hides
but you and I, bird, we’re gonna find out
Reia watches him, stalks him. He is such a stark contrast against the forest’s shadows that, for a fleeting moment, she thought herself pursuing an apparition.
The musk of his scent, however, is indicative of his realism and presence. Its familiarity is faint; it has been a couple years since she first tasted it on Pteron’s skin, so closely mingled that she questioned which belonged to whom. Yet the curl of it, like tendrils of smoke, edges cautiously into her nostrils where it triggers the painful memories to arise from the depths of her mind. The shouting, the rejection, the threatening. Everything swallows her at once, but outwardly, Reia only flinches.
Out here in the world, no longer a figment of her imagination, he looks peaceful. He dreamily meanders among the pines, inclining his antlered head toward a tree trunk and grazing it tenderly. Of course, Reia does not see all that he does. Fragments of his craft reach her, but she doesn’t carefully take note, as most of her attention funnels on him. Beneath her scales, she flexes her muscles in preparation. Another step closer, but still she doesn’t act. His back is turned, basking in his own beautified ambiance. Mother taught her to hunt, and to attack the unsuspecting victim from behind, but everything in Reia halts.
She hesitates.
But why?
She wants him to see her face, to lay eyes on the wife he indirectly hurts – the life he is destroying.
To pull him from his trance, a low, feral growl crawls from the depths of her throat and materializes as a blackened tower of smoke rising from her nostrils. Only then does he turn, acknowledging her with a sense of knowing. She meets his eyes, mirroring his recognition although her face crackles with the same threatening anger as her mane. Contradiction branches through her, reaching into her thoughts as she wavers between attacking him – burn him, hurt him – and simply observing him and the serene peacefulness that radiates from him like the ocean tides. ”You,” is all she manages to say, hissing as she inches closer, pausing only to search his eyes and seek the hate she assumes to be there.
and I'll be next to you when the lights go out