Ocean-Water Broken [Open]

[Alexandria Eveleigh- Demarais]

Madness. Perhaps that would take over Alexandria, in time. If everything continued to go down within this whirlwind that was quickly, yet very slowly sucking the life from her very chest. She had become frail and had grown far too tired than a woman of her age should ever feel.

And now she stood on the edge where death could pull at her and steal her from all of this misery. She was deep enough for the waters to claim her, and she knew if she went any further, there would be no turning back. The body in the water was an arm's length from her, and she heard her name being screamed out.

She tried to reach for the cloth that covered the man's shoulder, but the waves continued to pull him further away. Deep down she knew the man was dead. It was time to give up. And it had caused a stream of warm tears to pour down her face in contrast with the cold rain and the ocean waves that splashed against her. She stumbled back, the waves nearly pushing her down.

She saw Aric reaching for her and she fell against him, her hands grasping onto his broad arms. She said nothing, but she was crying. They needed to get out of the storm.
"I'm sorry... I thought..." She paused, not allowing herself to finish her sentence. Maybe it was too obvious to her what she had just tried to do. And maybe she hoped Aric would understand without needing explaination. She had just risked her life, a foolish notion, because she was desperate to help and felt completely useless to everything and every one. She just didn't know what to do anymore.

[Aric Demarais]

[ Sorry for the long delay in responding back. Been working a lot and then I haven't been feeling good the past three days. I'm going to try and respond faster from now on though. I apologize. ]

She was being foolish. Truly, she was. Yet half of him could not slam her down for her silly and almost bizarre behavior these days...but it was certainly bothering him with how much of a toll it was taking on her. And he felt like he could do nothing about it. He had already tried, twice, and the first time nearly resulted in a silly mistake.

"Alexandria, please...the man is gone," he spoke, trying to find words to say but he sounded more pleading and desperate than anything else. But she listened, reaching out for him where he could reel her in against his chest; standing there like a rock, her foundation as the waves threatened to crush them down, pushing against them in its anger.
All he could do was sigh, hesitantly resting a hand against her head as he cradled her, not knowing what to say in reply, feeling awkward in the position he was in. Perhaps she'd notice in her dismay, the lack of comfort his embrace had, like he was hesitant to do much more to make her feel better. Then yet again, the frail woman he had in his arms seemed too far gone in her worry that she most likely wouldn't.

"I know...I know..." Was all he was able to say before slowly pulling her from the waves, keeping her close to his unwounded side to make sure she would not run off again. "We need to get you inside." And if she complied this time, they'd soon find themselves across the wet sand and entering the shoppe where the injured had been carried off to.

[Deleted]

(( Sorry it took so long to respond.))

Sebastion returned to the house with the man, whose leg was wounded. They hobbled in and Sebastion assisted him to a seat where he could rest.

His soft blue eyes glanced around the room, concern rising within them. It was horrid, the sight of all these men crowded in a small room, wet and water logged.
And then he caught a glimpse of the firey-haired woman, on the floor, hunched over the dead man, sobbing. He frowned and moved over to her, careful of the men littering all along the floor. He crouched down and slowly placed his hands upon the woman's shoulders.

"Shhh... It's alright." He tried his best to be soothing and calm. The woman was in such an array of dispair, and he hated seeing a woman in tears. He'd offer her comfort the best way he could, even if it meant she'd need a warm embrace or a shoulder to cry on. He was a stranger, but everyone needed such comfort at some point, even if it was froma stranger. Though he was a man of science, and he wasn't so certain how good he was at comforting. He'd probably wind up telling her something he'd read in a book... Something to keep her mind from all this mess she had so bravely taken into her home.

"He doesn't hurt anymore, my lady... And the others.. we need to find them a healer." Like he thought, he wasn't much good at comforting. The woman needed to be soothed, not urged into the situation that was at hand. He sighed quietly. "You go rest your head for a bit... I will go find a healer." He offered her a warm smile, in his best attempt, one more time to comfort. Even if he was horrible at it.

[Deleted]

Somewhere immersed within the witching hour, a silver circle of gulls dove towards land. They weren't fighting against any passionate wind, but swooped closer with strong wings. The storm was giving up the ghost and it no longer felt as if needles were falling from the sky. Good or bad, everything came to an end.

Mona, oblivious to the dying storm, was covering the man's face when she felt hands upon her shoulders. "Not here" she muttered, lips cracked and peeling from dehydration and sand. Her head rolled to her right shoulder and she peered at him through puffy eyes. She looked wild, as if she, herself had been scraped from the bottom of the ship and thrown to shore. "He was not supposed to die here." Her eyes felt stiff in her head, as she turned back to the man. "This really is an unusually cruel place, hm? The world, I mean." It wasn't the fact that the man had died that bothered Mona , he was old and falling apart at the seams -- it was the unfair slight of hand thrown at him in his last moments.

She felt stiff against Sebastion's hands, remarkably unacquainted to the touch of another. She was lean and strong and it felt as if her skin was the only thing keeping the fire inside of her from charring him to dust. Knees popping, stiff as reeds, she rose, his hands falling from her shoulders. Shells fell from her hair and skirts and sand suckled to her face. She almost opened her mouth to protest, looking upon the scholar as if she'd never properly seen a gentleman before-- hesitated, then resigned. "I suppose you're right. What good am I here if I die of exaustion?" She was bullheaded but not stupid and knew that if she kept on, she would fall victim as well.

Gripping her drying skirts she bent to step past him, thought better of it and offered her hand. "My name is Mona O'Shea. May our paths cross again." She shook it hard, contrary to the mannerly way a maiden would, her hand firm but soft. Without another word she shifted past him, smelling of sea air and sweat, dissolving into the back to rest -- a beryl curtain the only thing separating her from all of the death in the front room.