"I Can't Stay Much Longer, Miranda..."

[psalm_onethirtyone]

The sea is almost warm in summer; the evenings are longer than they ever will be, and Gaheris lets the waves push him flat on his back in the sand. She sits by him, her dark wet hair curling over her shoulders and knees, and once the sun is gone she lies down and rests her head on his chest. She calls him Man, but she isn't afraid of him, her dark animal eyes don't dart around him, and instead of shying off she lets him kiss her, and then she lets him touch her, and Gaheris feels the tides pulling along with the moon--he has always felt the tides moving in his blood, but he doesn't mind. They talk. They make love. They sleep for a while. The sun comes up again and she rolls her eyes at him when he asks if that means she can't stay.

She stays. They talk. He teaches her a reel and she laughs. God, she laughs! It sounds like splashing, low and throaty and sudden. Someone will come looking for him, he thinks; he's been away too long. Sometimes his brothers worry about him because they think he's going mad. She brings him seaweed and tiny oysters and he makes faces at her but he eats them. Her eyes are like black stones; her skin is sleek and silver, but it's a long time before she puts it on again.

Gaheris sits on the rocks after she's gone, half-naked in only his tunic, and looks out at the sea. The sun's warm. His back is warm. For once in his life he feels almost peaceful.

your regularly scheduled strange arthurian ficlet of the month.