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Snippet #1589269

located in The Vastness of Man, a part of Breathe Me, one of the many universes on RPG.

The Vastness of Man

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There was a childish need to aid Nike swelling in Yani's sodden chest. She wanted to fix her right up with her most colourful band-aids – the ones that the old man used to plaster on her cheeks whenever she fell down in the mud, crying into her fists – and tell her that she's got the most loveliest eyes she's ever ever seen, and even if she isn't seeing as well as she used to, that it was alright. She wanted to envelop the entire room with the softest tides and sweep their worries away with its' medicinal salt. Instead, she felt like the atmosphere was the frothy, unforgiving waves licking and tearing you back into the sea so that you could slumber in its' murky depths, for eternity. That wasn't what she wanted. Small, skeletal fingers feathered over her cheek and all Yani could do was look up at her, and wish so badly that she wasn't being hurt. The Shark was floundering ashore without the comforts of the sea, but with Nike's warmth everything seemed to be alright. Perhaps Humanity did have a chance, and maybe there was something else that she couldn't quite see. The Descendants were as unseeing as Nike; pallid eyes so full of wisdom and bereaved tenderness.

Her fingers closed around Nike's small, dainty hand before she finally retreated. Yani understood that something important was to be said and would devote her attentions solely on Her. She rocked back on her heels, pushed against the checkered floor with the heel of her palm and squatted beside Nike's gnarled chair; still as pond water and reflective as a cool, breezeless day. One hand remained plastered against the floor to keep herself from falling over. Nike's comforting fingers remained on her shoulder, reminding her of everything they needed to do. Every obstacle they'd need to overcome for the greater good of the world. It almost seemed ridiculous. The Shark's visage was bent forward, shoulders hunched and exuding an expression of pained thought. Yani was anything but ponderous; she was the pulsing shore, scattered glass, sticks from a bonfire, seaweed limbs; fragmented sand and pieces of smooth rocks strewn across the beaches. The Shark had no recollection of her family. She had no father or mother who'd once been apart of something more, passing generations upon generations of secrets to their offspring.

When Lalita spoke up, Yani's mouth twisted and she grinned wickedly, nodding her head with vicarious enthusiasm. β€œBastard's won't know what's coming,” accompanied by a rather masculine snarl. Coral spined and moss fingered, the Shark clasped Nike's fingers from her shoulder, kissed her knuckles gently, and drew herself up like a thundering storm. She swaggered away from Nike, intending to shoulder Noah back into the hallway so that they could tail the Cruzzola when her footfalls suddenly fell short and her mouth felt like she was working sandy grit between her gums. A swollen object felt as if it lodged itself in her throat, clawing its' way across her oesophagus. The floor beneath her feet shifted and she felt weightless, as if it'd fallen away and melted into the seas' she loved so much. She wasn't even sure whether or not she was moving until she reached the chambers' threshold and leaned heavily against the door frame, fingers poised against the wall to keep her from falling. Where'd the sudden weakness come from, anyway? Her legs felt like jelly, swaying and sucking like the tide. Her arms felt leaden and she couldn't smell anything but the staunchly scent of salt. She couldn't seem to identify whether or not she was alone, either – the chamber looked completely different, fluctuating into stringy tendrils and filling with barmy water.

A death befit a sailor.

And then, with no rhyme or reason, Yani could vividly remember drowning. Spastic motions kicking and flailing, pushing towards a surface that reflects an exceedingly bright day – so ironic, how such a beautiful day could mock a child's drowning. She could undoubtedly feel her lungs burn and wrench in agony, sweltering with the need of oxygen and bumbling on panicked shrieks that none could hear. Sunlight drifting over sea foam and reaching for the sky; for salvation, for redemption, for life. Diaphragm and throat pulsing and thrumming. Mossy eyes wide as saucers, screaming. The sharp pain of icy water had dulled her limbs and spread like a heart beat through his body; thumping loudly through her skull. And still, she kicked towards the surface in one last act of defiance. Two strong arms – she could remember – plucked under her armpits.

I want to die.

And Yani slipped slowly to the ground, bowing her head between her knees, teeth chattering.

I just want to die.

And still, the strong arms lifted her from the treacherous waters and she could breathe again; spluttering and coughing and chortling water from her lungs. But, whose arms had they been? She could hear Nike's voice clambering through the darkness, soft as a whisper, soft as the sails billowing in the wind, and asking her to live because she had a right. At least, it was a breath of fresh air.