thar toinn (tidelands | adrielle/cal)

[fiachairecht]

thar toinn. tidelands, adrielle/cal. post-s1 conversations. 327w, rated t. for summer spinoff 2020.

The water curls around Cal's ankles, a relentless forward tug that would drag a lesser woman through the shallows. At her back, Adrielle's very presence wraps around her, clings to her like wet sand to her boots - Adrielle's hair wind-tossed through Cal's own, her perfume a heady floral under the sharp salt of the air.

It burns her nose every time she breathes in, until she's gasping for it - until breathing through the whole of the ocean feels more possible than breathing with Adrielle at her side.

"I have known you for a long time, Cal McTeer," Adrielle murmurs, and the tide swallows down her words, flings them back at their feet every time it rolls further in. "I would know you longer still."

It's a threat, and not even a veiled one - not while blood stains L'Attente's beaches, silver in the moonlight just like the ocean. But all Cal says is, "Knowing me isn't a very nice thing."

Adrielle laughs, kisses the back of Cal's neck with the fleeting whisper of a wave. "We both get to live with that, don't we?"

"For a time." Cal's nails dig into Adrielle's wrist, and blood and water alike rise where their skin meets. She wants to peel it all back - see how much of the ocean would spill out of her, how much of a siren's song would be loosed if she did.

She doesn't. She's closed too many eyes today to even make it much of a threat, her siren's voice thin and hollow in the base of her throat. She doesn't need it to prove anything to Adrielle.

Wonders why she ever thought she did. 

"I'll count the days with your voice," Adrielle promises, laughter still rippling under her words as she wraps her arms more tightly around Cal's waist. One hand slips lower, fingers hard and insistent against the seam of Cal's leggings.

Cal lets the waters pull them forward, and doesn't say a word.