@topray : swim. for our muses to go for a late night swim.
in some ways, you didn't know how you'd feel about the water after the last time you drowned in it.
it was heavy then. you fell, and the impact felt like hitting concrete. you sank. flailed. the water rushed over you, pulling you under, further. you couldn't have been reborn in clean water, you think. the city was unclean, and you were of that city. it was a blessing in the same dirt you'd been raised in, full of the same industrial dust and waste that filled the rest of your life.
out here, in california, the ocean isn't anything like that. it has places where it's cleaner, where the water is clearer, but it's nothing like the river you knew back home.
together the two of you had found a quiet beach a short drive from where you'd been staying, halfway up the west coast. mari said something about wanting to go swimming, and there was no reason you could say no. she'd dragged you out there, practically pulling you along a little before dawn. the world was still mostly dark, struck through with bits of purple and orange thrown across the sky. mari's already gone. you can just pick up on the sound of her feet against the sand, even as you reach down, gentle, and touch where the waves wash up against the sand and pull back out. wet under your fingers.
you could make a mark here. then, in only a few moments, that mark would be washed away.
you glance back up in time to see mari splashing her way into the shallows. one direction. determined. like she often is, but this feels like something different. up to her ankles. then, with how small she is, up to her knees. it's then that you start following after her, trailing after footprints that just as quickly are washed away. all evidence of your passing will be gone when you leave. it's a thought that's both comforting and terrifying.
it's freezing cold. different than the water back home. water runs colder, but there it was always sweltering, boiling over. out here it bites. your breath catches in your throat for a moment and you pause.
the push. the pull. the whole world, trying to drag you into the depths.
you wade out further, until the point where you have to launch into motion. mari's already a long way out, a dot you can only dimly make out by the way her motions disturb the surface of the water. by the time you catch up enough to make out more of the details, she's floating. her head's tilted up towards the sky as you swim over to her. there was a midpoint where the waves weren't quite pulling you, but out here, you can feel how strong the currents are.
your motions slow as you get closer. it feels like the ripples of your approach would somehow disturb her.
it's not often you see mari like this—still, calm.
you could say something. anything. why this, why here? but instead, you tilt yourself back and let yourself float for a moment, looking up towards the sky. there are still a few stars visible this early. it feels endless above you and below you all at once, suspended in between.
this is the real edge of the world. closer to heaven, you think, than maybe you've ever been in your life.
you reach over, slow, careful, until your fingers brush against mari's. your fingers intertwine with hers.
an anchor for you. for her too. without it, maybe one of you would disappear just like that.