ph_logs | salt water & sadness

salt water & sadness

Who: Heather Harne (

heatherbythesea) & Anyone who comes across her
What: the depression has her
When: March-April
Where: the beach

She slumps in the surf, still, save for the sporadic shuddering from a silent sob.

Heather's hair hangs heavy across her head, laid limp on the land as she languishes.

And in sorrowful silence she yearns for the sea.

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THUMP

The sound is dull, the thud of a foot against damp packed sand. The smell of salt and sand is joined by the musk of fur, a nose and whiskers tickling as her hand is sniffed by a small cottontail rabbit. A moment later, a deep male voice follows.

"Bao! Back off, baby, don't bother people."

The little rabbit growls--a tiny sound that's far more adorable than threatening--and thumps her foot again, continuing to sniff. Dad, can't you see the lady is sad? She needs Bao!

A moment later, the furry body is lifted away, and a strong, warm hand settles on the woman's shoulder. The deep voice is soft, heavy with concern and a weight that speaks to sympathy.

"Hey--if you need to be alone, I'll leave, but...if you don't wanna be alone, can I sit with you? Just silence, if you want."

There's a shift, when he touches, and a lock of hair slides downward as she turns her head just enough to expose one dark eye. And then she shrugs, not trying to dislodge his hand but just not caring if it slides off or not.

She sniffles.

But she doesn't tell him to leave.

John accepts the answer given in silence--and doesn't move his hand. It sits there as he does: warm, quiet, still.

...at least, until another, meatier thump rings out and he huffs peevishly.

"Ow! Goddamnit, Bao, don't smack me."

Grrrrrrr--*thump*

The furry bunny body is back. Bao is sniffing the woman's hair, then just settles by her shoulder, where John's hand remains. Soon, a sound begins that's akin to a purr as Bao begins to chitter soothingly in contentment.

"She likes you. I find animals are a good judge of character." he explains softly. "Her name's Bao. I'm John."

Part of Heather wants to push the bunny away -- wants to curl up further and wait for John to walk on. But it's too much effort, and if neither of them want to go, then they'll insist, and that might mean talking.

Talking is dangerous, especially when she's so emotional and her control is so frayed.

She swallows hard, bites the inside of her cheek to ground herself with the pain. Control.

"Heather." she says, clipped and short, in answer. But even that will be accompanied by the sensation of choking, numbing sadness pushed on those who hear it. The mercy is that the emotional bleed-over doesn't last long.

The unfortunate fact is that John is already suffering similar feelings--but they come in waves, and he has some measure of comfort in his family and his animals. That sudden surge...yeah, it doesn't feel like it usually does.

The source of that sorrow makes it easy to put two and two together.

So, as he breathes through the sudden knot in his throat, as it subsides, he gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"It's okay--I understand. I was involved with someone who could control memories. You got something going on like that with your voice, you don't have to say anything if you don't want to...but I'm okay if you do, whatever happens as a result. I know what I'm getting into. If you wanna keep a leash on it..."

He moves his hand from her shoulder to gently tuck his fingers loosely into her hand.

"Basic. One squeeze is yes, two is no, three means it's not a 'yes or no' thing. First, I felt that--how sad you are. If you can't get past how that feels, I get it. If you can...is there anything I can do that'd help you feel better? Even a little?"

Heather squeezes John's hand twice. No, she doesn't think anything can help.

She knows that her voice can push her emotions on to other people. It can compel them to obey her, and if she puts enough power behind it, force them to do things they normally wouldn't do. A strong will can resist the fae magic of the compulsion, and Heather -- still remembering what it was like to be human -- generally doesn't try to push past resistance. (Older fae, or those who never started out as changelings, usually don't have those qualms, and Heather has seen the damage they can do.)

In better times, she will compensate. She knows American Sign Language, has used it since she was a baby more or less... but it takes effort. And effort is...

Well, she's sprawled out on the beach and not caring that she's partway in the tideline. The sorrow in her makes everything feel too heavy.

She takes a breath, steels herself, and says, "Not human. Stuck."

A caged, angry beast paces beneath the wave of sadness this time -- perhaps it stirs something similar in John, emotions linked to memory as they are.

Sephiroth has been looking for Heather, wondering if she has any insight on the fae prank war that's been getting out of hand. When he sees her like this, however, he's just immediately concerned for her and has no intention of asking about that right now.

"What's wrong?" he asks in concern.

Heather does not answer with words.

One hand becomes visible outside the tangled fall of her hair, and she gestures as if to say 'move along'.

Sephiroth lingers. "I realize we don't know each other well, and I am not in the habit of prying, but I am also not in the habit of simply leaving someone in distress," he says kindly. "Are you hurt?"

One dark eye glares up at him.

"I want to go home," Heather says, voice shaking from the effort of keeping her powers in check. It doesn't quite work, and a feeling of longing, a feeling of having an empty space inside, bleeds over to those who can hear her.

“I understand,” he says quietly. “I do as well.”

But home for him … does that really mean Gaia, or home to the friends he prays still might care about him? If they were here, then this would feel more like home for him and he likely wouldn’t ever want to leave.

Max spots her as he crosses the beach on his way back from an early morning fishing break. The fishing was successful; he has two plump codfish in a basket on his arm. He sets those and the rod down as she slumps.

"Hey, are you okay?" he rushes out to her so fast sand kicks up behind him. "Are you...hurt?"

She curls up more and shakes her head.

She just wants to be left alone. Why are people here when they weren't before?

She does not seem to be in the mood for commiseration. She gives him a silent, brief glare and then turns her gaze back to the sea.

And if he follows her gaze, and she notices, she'll point to the rolling waves in front of them. That could be home. And yet, for all it is right in front of her, she is barred from it. Barred from living in this new sea by the human body she's stuck in.

Sephiroth wonders what it would be like to see home in front of you and not be able to get to it. It's hard for him to relate to that specific problem, at least at first. But ... if someone like Zack was here and Sephiroth could not be with him for some reason ... yes, then it becomes more relatable.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "There's no way to be able to be there?"

He might remember from the dream that Heather in her merrow form had gills along her ribs. Heather in the waking world yanks up her shirt -- uncaring whether or not she might accidentally flash him -- to show that her human torso definitely lacks the gills.

All she has now are lungs, adapted for breathing air and not seawater.

"Yes, I understand," he says. "Then you're saying your powers of transformation are blocked?"

His are not, so he is understandably confused.

Heather touches her index finger to her nose -- a gesture that means "you've sniffed it out", or more generally "you've got it".

It's entirely possible that Sephiroth might not be familiar with the gesture and its meaning, but Heather isn't thinking of that right now.

Sephiroth doesn't use it, but he has seen it used.

"And there is no way for you to unblock them?"

He would help if he could.

Max hovers over her, hands floating above to not touch her while every fiber of his being screams for him to hold her. Actually... maybe that's what she needs?

"Do you want a hug?"

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salt water & sadness

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