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[npc-excolo.livejournal.com]

Dream.

There is a great sea. The sky is grey, the water green, and the seafoam is the flecked white of milk on the turn. The shore is stone and shingle, and the cliffs are bone-shades. Will you wake on the little fishing boat that rides the waves, wary of great beasts that lurk beneath the surface, or on the cold and stony shore? Or perhaps as some watery thing yourself, breathing in water as cold as ice and with a salt-iron taste like blood?

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[sapphira-ststep.livejournal.com]

Well, surely names have power; names and masks and faces and skins, and all of that here, and it comes to me that none of us have spoken our names aloud. I count it as him offering assistance, and nod, and then two more women coughed up out of the sea join us, selkie and swimmer, one dark and one fair.

The blonde woman kneels and whispers into the ear of the netted serpentess, and the sea covers the sound of it. But there is still a change, as if the silhouette of a mask had passed before a candle flame and cast a shadow--featureless and dark, but clear-edged for all that.

"Let's free her of these nets," my fishing companion says, and I am glancing curiously at the new women as we do so. They know her, and I am glad that they are not furious with us for having caught her, at least not so much that they are willing to forego speaking. (http://community.livejournal.com/estdeus_innobis/405311.html?view=10283071#t10283071)