|Kitane Zmaj is (crazypants) wrote in rooms,|
@ 2015-08-04 06:22:00
|Entry tags:||!fast and the furious, *narrative, kitane zmaj|
What: Where oh where has the little crazypants been?
Where: Isla Mujeres, Fast and the Furious
The days and nights of Isla Mujeres were frequently the same. Each day she woke around the sunrise, sand and washed up seaweed in her hair. Fishing came first - sometimes with spears in the lagoon - sometimes she went with the fishermen on their boats and out into the sea to fish with lines. Lines weren't her favorite, but they could frequently bring in more like that, which meant that they had to do less to manage that night's dinner.
If it was just her, lunch was spent with the women and the afternoon was spent cleaning. If there wasn't a lot to clean (and there usually was, litter and cabanas and people leaving things everywhere) then it was out to snorkel around the reef, her hair a black ink cloud around her head. The fishermen came in around dinner and whatever they didn't eat was breakfast and lunch for tomorrow (though she never ate breakfast, the sea called to her, like it did in her dreams).
And when the sun set, the torches were lit and sometimes big bonfires on the sand. Music played. They told stories and laughed and she listened because half the population of the island was tourists and they always had new stories for the girl that barely tanned but looked more, every day, like she belonged there. She danced with the hemp and seashell anklet bouncing and every night when the moon rose high, she went home alone.
Nights were the hardest. There was no Viserion to curl up beside her. No Stark to warm her feet - indeed, not even a bed for them to sleep on because the beach was her bed but the waves never made up for the lack of hearing anyone else breathing close to her while she slept. They were from a time before Theo, before Las Vegas, before Atlanta and New York and a language she didn't know. To the stars she confessed her sorrows, but none of her own salt joined the waves that would tickle her toes in the morning.
What she missed wouldn't be regained by tears.
What she missed -
Who she -
The waves kept up their steady kiss to the sand as she fished her phone out. She shouldn't, she knew she shouldn't, that not looking was the best thing she could do, but... On it was the only picture she had of Theo, his frowning face laughing at something and she ran her finger over it, stared until the screen started to go dark to save power and hit it with her fingertip again to light it up. There was no going back to him, no place she could go to find him, and maybe he was happy where he was and she should be happy too, but mostly she missed his arms around her and the soft beat of his heart in her ear.
Some nights were better than others. This was an 'other' night until she fell asleep, her body nestled in grains of silica.