virtusxcor:

Memories.

Dozens of double-edged swords, ready to rend the surface of a mind or to mend it.

Perhaps for him, the most agonizing ones outweighed the blissful remnants that kept him sane—but he was still standing. In any case, it was funny how much he had forgotten. Over the years, the useless span of information gathered from a plethora of locations had filtered over crucial sections of his past. And in such endeavors—

—He had lost the scent of a beach.

Or the sound of overlapping waters.

And sand was an easy thing to picture, but the sensation of flakes brushing against metal or flesh? Forsaken. Cast to the void for the sake of absorbing the impossible—the improbable.

So perhaps he had asked her for a trip to such a place out of his own desire, though her company would be treasured in the end. The last time she had laid eyes upon him, he was no taller than herself. Though he wondered if such would even matter to her—for she was never one to judge aesthetics of any kind.

“—Sunshine? …Y’ready yet?”

Came the lofty query, subtle knock carried out against the shack’s doors. A changing station near the outskirts of the private resort, seemingly deserted aside from the lone stranger or two—mostly couples. Crowds were bothersome all on their own and hell if he were to suffer the annoyance of those who littered such a tranquil landscape with their own inequity.

         _{To her, it was never a surprise that she had some form of attachment to the ocean. To the stretch of water that looked like it would continue forever into the horizon, where the sea and the sky kissed, joined at last. And yet still that mass kept in constant contact with the land, with the ground and the earth that would never be able to touch the sky, and in the end the ocean was what connected them. After all, she was borne from the heart of the girl whose life was spent near the ocean, in it and around it and breathing in the salty air, and even to a nobody like her when she came to the beach, it felt like coming home.}

                                                      _{That was, perhaps, what was most dangerous about going.}

         _{But he had asked, requested so kindly to accompany him and take him to that place, to any beach that had an ocean and a stretch of sand. Saying no would have been easy and simple with an apology to accompany it, but it was impossible to deny that she wanted to go. That it called to her, the cool air and the sound of the waves folding over themselves, the feeling of gritty sand between her toes as she stood barefoot among it. So she said yes, and together they went.}

                  _{Beyond the door she could hear him, the knock on the door, and she breathed softly and slid off her sandals to hold them loosely in her hand, hair tied loosely behind herself. Not that such a thing stopped her bangs from falling in front of her eyes, or shorter strands of ashen blonde from tickling her cheeks, but it was easier to manage and she opened the door to the shack slowly. As if welcoming the ocean air to brush against her once more, to let the scent of the ocean and the sand and the sun to wash over her once more.}

                                                                        _{”Yes, I am.”}

         _{Words spoken lightly as she stepped out from the cover of the roof and into the sun, eyes squinting just slightly at the glaring rays and brightness, though it was no different from walking into her white room from the darkness of the rest of the mansion. Except, perhaps, the fact that it was natural light and not a trick of color and shades, but still her eyes adjusted easily and she offered the young man before her a slight smile.}

         _{Certainly she had noticed that he had grown taller since they had last met, whereas she had stayed the same height and likely would not grow anymore for the time being, but commenting on it seemed frivolous. Height was simply an aesthetic, something to be noticed but perhaps not spoken of unless for any certain reason, and while she had been somewhat surprised it hadn’t mattered to her. ”Lead the way.”}