[vi's morning walks are less brisk - she's become more careful in her searching - and the (predictable if you know what to look for) sparkler she carries is not lit.
she's had more business with this beach than the usual walks, the usual spars. she's screamed at the ocean on three occasions - once to take something back, another to do just the opposite - and a final, desperate plea for an even trade. just a squid for a squid, an eye for an eye, if you will.
it hadn't seemed to listen to either outburst, but it's hard to tell with the ocean. with mariana? same thing - both the easiest and the hardest of the pthumerians for her to understand. she's not sure if mariana ever listens - or if she's even capable of choosing to. (and if she could choose, would she? even bother?)
vi had circled that beach and the small cluster of rocks, sat in that pool, slept above it as her omen patiently watched, fang waiting and wandering as well while her sleeper slept - and continued the search once violet had been convinced to go home, even for just a little while.
it wasn't giving up if fang was still out there - and the omen had agreed, comforted her with words very close to the same, nudged her with a surprisingly gentle nose, and let vi cry into her fur.
the ocean doesn't hear me and jinx can't either.
she wonders now if she's wrong about that the moment she happens upon this (upon her) puddle of pale flesh and blue tendrils. stopped her in her tracks, she stands still only for a moment before she sprints, screaming her sister's name (both of them) and shoving past anything or anyone else that she finds in her way.
(it's a hallucination. a joke. a trick.
a hope.)
but that's soon replaced by rising dread. again. because yes, she's right - there's no mistaking this - that's powder, that's jinx - not a squid, but a girl - and she's so still where she'd always been in perpetual motion - fidgeting - or even the storm of her features shifting with her mood.]
Jinx? Jinx??!
[a beat - no, half a beat - there's no time for this, as she turns her sister over (which sister? is she the same? will she remember anything? or will she just leave again because you can't hold on to anything even with your big fat hands) and brushes the hair away from her face, an angry cry as she tries to remember what to do.
i know this. i can do this.
there's no time for her to clean her hands (and fuck it, they are from the undercity - what's a little dirt, a little blood as long as it isn't poison), so she opens her sister's mouth with those fingers once she's sure jinx is as flat on the sand as she can be - and impatiently checks for breath - she almost doesn't because it's fucking obvious to her there's no breath - but she can't let herself do this wrong - even if it is a test - even if it never matters - she isn't going to skip a step, because that's not what she was taught, and she's only a fumbling student at this.
yeah, no heartbeat. no heartbeat. no, no, no.]
No. Okay, come on. We're not doing this. Not like this.
[there's a fine line here - and there are days she doesn't know her own strength - days the blood is up and days its down - but those have evened out into enough of a baseline that she's confident she can make these compressions just forceful enough without breaking anything - and she counts them out as she goes, a determined count to thirty, staring down into that stilled face, its features looking ...peaceful. that hurts her heart - but she presses, counts, presses, no breaks - but she can't promise no bruising. clasped hands and her own breath caught, and still the girl is still
two breaths, it's easy.
tilting jinx's head back, pinching her nose shut and covering her mouth with her own, violet breathes once, watches for any rising of the chest - and failing that, she tilts just a fraction more before she breathes again.]
i.
she's had more business with this beach than the usual walks, the usual spars. she's screamed at the ocean on three occasions - once to take something back, another to do just the opposite - and a final, desperate plea for an even trade. just a squid for a squid, an eye for an eye, if you will.
it hadn't seemed to listen to either outburst, but it's hard to tell with the ocean. with mariana? same thing - both the easiest and the hardest of the pthumerians for her to understand. she's not sure if mariana ever listens - or if she's even capable of choosing to. (and if she could choose, would she? even bother?)
vi had circled that beach and the small cluster of rocks, sat in that pool, slept above it as her omen patiently watched, fang waiting and wandering as well while her sleeper slept - and continued the search once violet had been convinced to go home, even for just a little while.
it wasn't giving up if fang was still out there - and the omen had agreed, comforted her with words very close to the same, nudged her with a surprisingly gentle nose, and let vi cry into her fur.
the ocean doesn't hear me and jinx can't either.
she wonders now if she's wrong about that the moment she happens upon this (upon her) puddle of pale flesh and blue tendrils. stopped her in her tracks, she stands still only for a moment before she sprints, screaming her sister's name (both of them) and shoving past anything or anyone else that she finds in her way.
(it's a hallucination. a joke. a trick.
a hope.)
but that's soon replaced by rising dread. again. because yes, she's right - there's no mistaking this - that's powder, that's jinx - not a squid, but a girl - and she's so still where she'd always been in perpetual motion - fidgeting - or even the storm of her features shifting with her mood.]
Jinx? Jinx??!
[a beat - no, half a beat - there's no time for this, as she turns her sister over (which sister? is she the same? will she remember anything? or will she just leave again because you can't hold on to anything even with your big fat hands) and brushes the hair away from her face, an angry cry as she tries to remember what to do.
i know this. i can do this.
there's no time for her to clean her hands (and fuck it, they are from the undercity - what's a little dirt, a little blood as long as it isn't poison), so she opens her sister's mouth with those fingers once she's sure jinx is as flat on the sand as she can be - and impatiently checks for breath - she almost doesn't because it's fucking obvious to her there's no breath - but she can't let herself do this wrong - even if it is a test - even if it never matters - she isn't going to skip a step, because that's not what she was taught, and she's only a fumbling student at this.
yeah, no heartbeat. no heartbeat. no, no, no.]
No. Okay, come on. We're not doing this. Not like this.
[there's a fine line here - and there are days she doesn't know her own strength - days the blood is up and days its down - but those have evened out into enough of a baseline that she's confident she can make these compressions just forceful enough without breaking anything - and she counts them out as she goes, a determined count to thirty, staring down into that stilled face, its features looking ...peaceful. that hurts her heart - but she presses, counts, presses, no breaks - but she can't promise no bruising. clasped hands and her own breath caught, and still the girl is still
two breaths, it's easy.
tilting jinx's head back, pinching her nose shut and covering her mouth with her own, violet breathes once, watches for any rising of the chest - and failing that, she tilts just a fraction more before she breathes again.]
Jinx?
Pow-pow?