the tide caller | basil+audria | [florence]

[ミSailor彡]

BASIL 'BUBBLES' ARTOIS

    The sea is calm this morning, quietly ebbing and flowing as it gently splashes the dock's pillars. As the water pushes and pulls, it tugs the line connected to my fishing pole back and forth. Occasionally, it tricks me into thinking I've got a bite but it only takes me a moment to realize that it's a false alarm. This is my favorite place and time to fish, I've been coming to this dock for as long as I remember and the time slot I've chosen is usually too early for most other fishermen to be out. Alas, my luck hasn't been the best thus far. I've caught one, yes that's singular, one puny fish that wouldn't even be enough for me to eat, let alone the many customers that frequent my family's shop. 

I've been smart enough to stockpile the fish I catch to always have extra but I have to throw the unused ones out eventually and I always try my best to keep up the inventory. I couldn't imagine the looks on our regular's faces if I ever had to tell them we didn't have fish soup for the day. They'd be horrified, I giggle at the thought of them rioting over the loss of their daily fish soup. Especially Pappy, the most veteran regular we have whose been coming to our shop for years. He is elderly, walks with a cane and has false teeth and the thought of the fit he'd throw makes my laugh even more. Pappy always told me that our fish soup was like his coffee, he couldn't start the day without it. 

I consider the possibility that the fish have finally gotten smart enough to move on from this spot but my query is interrupted by a gentle tug on my line. I wait a moment to see if it's just the water trying to tease me again but the pull becomes more and more consistent. I hop up onto my toes excitedly as I begin reeling her in, hoping for something more prosperous than the minnow I caught earlier. I pull my lucky yellow fishing visor down to my brow as I work the reel cautiously, hoping not to break the line. This one feels promising! There's lots of tug, I feel myself having to fight the resistance, feels like a big'n! 

My catch surfaces and I hold it up in front of me to examine what kind of fish I've caught, already considering which recipe I will use with it. I puff out my cheeks and with a furrowed brow, let out an exasperated sigh as I realize that my catch is nothing but an old boot. I stomp my feet, throwing a borderline temper tantrum as I toss the seaweed covered boot behind me, not caring where it lands. I plop back down on my behind and throw my line back out, hoping desperately to be able to catch something worth bringing back. With my legs crossed, I rest my elbow on my knee and use my arm to prop my head up lazily while I pout. 

"What a stinkin' cliche that was."

--

[Deleted]

have you ever had a dream that you could fly?
i have.
i could feel the wind whispering in my ears,
feel it rushing between my fingers.
and the wings.
the beautiful golden and white feathers
that were softer than any of the clouds that i burst through.
i thought i was invincible.
i could stare into the face of the sun and not fall to ash.
i could grow into places where people did not expect me,
i could feel the bite of every tongue in this nation
and i could've sworn i heard the mountains whispering to me too.
i was finally seeing the stars like i always hoped to.
like haia always hoped to.
but you see the thing
is that by the
time you finally see
the light
it
has
already
died.
and when things start to die
the whole world that had come to be around that those things
they would die too
and this world was no longer poetic,
and the wax holding my wings was beginning to melt
and the clouds were beginning to taste
like something bitter
and i was falling
falling
fall-
i hit the ground.
and then i woke up.

***

How pathetic was it, that all my dreams end in terror? That is, if I can even call them dreams. (are dreams supposed to end with your mouth tasting of blood and your whole body numb and every trace of color faded away?) Where have the happily ever afters been stashed away, and how many do I have to spare? I'd certainly like to see one of these tales end with the protagonist actually getting what they want. (I suppose Haia got what she wanted, though.)
I think that when you die, the people who love you adopt your scars. One for mama, one for papa, one for Auntie Lou - you'd find them under pinky fingers, inside thighs, and all across faces. (un)lucky for me, I got two. One on my chest, one on my stomach. I guess Haia was feeling rather generous in the will she never wrote.
This morning, I had a sweet roll trapped between my teeth, and the heat was nipping fiercely at my tongue. I sharply tugged at the sleeves of my too-big jacket, willing my skin to stop itching. It had been an uncomfortable evening the night before, and I was not in the mood to sit at the table with my family this morning. The tension had left me scratching at my skin all night, and now an entire mountain range had formed on my arms. I hadn't told them good morning before I left home; they never took the time to acknowledge my formalities anyways. Edgar used to, but that was then.
I hadn't been to the docks in a long time. I would kick off my shoes and sit at the edge, watching the waves run their fingers up and down long brown legs before retreating. Such teases, they were.
A sudden projectile coming my way made me jump, and an old, waterlogged boot landed behind me. There was a girl sitting on the dock, lazily propping her head up with one hand, and holding a fishing pole with the other. She looked to be my age, or younger. As I got closer to her, I could hear her mumbling something about cliches.

"You know what would've been cliche?" I said drily, kneeling down beside her. "If you had just hit me with that old boot."

[ミSailor彡]

BASIL 'BUBBLES' ARTOIS

It's always been odd to me, how easily things like fishing and swimming came to me. No one ever taught me, it just came naturally. Maybe it's just something about being born in this district that gives you this ungodly skill with any sort of water activity. But that theory has been disproven by my mother, who is probably the one and only person in this entire district who claims she does not know how to swim. I offered to teach her, but she's terrified. She wants nothing to do with the ocean, claiming that it's tide is just waiting for the perfect opportunity to sweep her away forever. The story was told to me by my father, because mother never dared to speak a word of it, in fear of bringing back terrible memories. Father said that when mother was a child, she had a sister. I had an aunt. He said that when they were about eight or so, they snuck off to the beach to avoid chores without their parents permission. They played and went deeper and deeper in the ocean, as long as their toes could feel the sand, and that's when the riptide pulled them out. My mother was dragged so far, tumbling through the water, only to rise to the surface disoriented. She hardly made it, but managed to swim until she crawled back onto shore. Terrified, she screamed for her sister, running back towards the water in hopes she wasn't too far behind. But she never saw her again. She was gone, forever.

When the story was told to me, it did shy me away from the beach for a couple weeks. But I could never stay away for long. I just became more away of the schedules of the tides. I let out another tiny sigh, feeling a little discouraged when I feel a vibration of sound coming from behind me, matched with a voice. "You know what would have been cliché? If you had just hit me with that old boot." I nearly jump out of my skin, the voice had startled me so much. I didn't expect anyone to be out this early, not around here anyway. The jolt loosened my grip around my fishing pole causing me to drop it down into the water. It lands with a light splash, as I turn around to see a girl crouched down behind me. The first thing I notice about her is her large brown eyes, her hair long and dark, flowing over her shoulders. I'm still a little startled but manage to get out some words before pitifully looking back down at my fishing pole floating below me.


"I-I'm so sorry! I didn't know there was anyone around, and I- I just wasn't thinking."


I smile, hoping she's not angry with me for nearly pelting her with some washed up old trash. Without thinking twice, I steady myself on the edge of the dock before throwing myself off, into the water to retrieve my fishing pole before it drifted off too far.