The realm of mist

[Maeve]

She didn’t know how he did it, but it seemed to Maeve that only a heartbeat after she had spotted him, he was right there in front of her. Like some sort of wavering vision or mirage through the thick curtain of rain. And it wasn’t long before the warmth of his arms engulfed her, an embrace so relieving and safe that her body instantly surrendered to it. She wrapped her arms steadily around his shoulders, nothing bone-crushing or fiercely clingy, careful not to press on the cuts and scratches on his back. She simply held on to him, feeling him against her, his hammering heartbeat against her own and his ragged breathing on her neck, her mind somehow still unable to grasp the reality of his presence after everything they had went through.

Resting her chin on his shoulder and trying to control her persistent shivers, she didn’t even react to his scold, knowing it didn’t hold any trace of true reproach. Instead, she just remained still, letting all the strong raw feelings that had been boiling inside her chest since the attack simmer down slowly. The anger, the fear, the guilt. The latter still very much knotted inside her. And as much as she wanted to close her eyes and shut out their devastated surrounding from her sight, she couldn’t. She was unable to tear her gaze away from the shattered mess they had done, that she had done. She just stared at it blankly through the rain, with a far-off expression, a defeated and sad hidden look, somewhere deep in her brown eyes. That small taunting whisper in her head that just kept repeating one phrase, one truth. She was dangerous.

“No, us luring each other in this dream was stupid.”

Her voice betrayed how exhausted, both physically and mentally, how tired of everything and how crushed she was. They had destroyed their dream, turned it into a nightmare. And Maeve feared it could only get worse. She felt like everything they said to each other was bond to be another brick added to the wall they had begun to build between them, worlds apart, for protection, ever since she had fallen overboard.

And still, she didn’t want to wake up from this hell, because at least he was in it. The god forsaken beach she was trapped into when she was awake was perhaps less life-threatening, but he wasn’t there. In her cursed realm, he was only a memory. So she didn’t want to wake up from this. She was drawn to their dream’s misery and wretchedness, unaffected by the strange inner yearning for self-destruction burning in her chest. Because he was there.

Unwavering broken mirror of how she felt, the rain still drummed down on them with the same intensity. Locked in their tight embrace, they looked like two drowning victims, holding each other with the hope of either making it to the surface, or sinking down to the bottom together. The latter seemed more appropriate to Maeve at the moment.

[Sinbad]

She let herself be pulled close and that was all that mattered right now. There was nothing in this embrace that would have made him blush or feel abashed, not now, not with her shivering like that or her voice sounding like that. He was shivering himself and his clothes were soaked, but he didn´t care. He didn´t have a clear idea of where that last beast had come from, being by far the worst danger they had had to encounter since they had arrived here and he briefly tried to find its origin, what had been said or done or thought before it had dropped from the sky, but he was unable to focus his thoughts like that and decided that it didn´t matter.

He gave a short chuckle at her words. Not to make fun of her or to ridicule her words, but as his very own way of dealing with situations like this, by appearing stronger than he actually felt. "You´re kidding," he said, probably just loud enough for her to hear. "I haven´t felt better in months."

For any clueless listener or onlooker, this remark would have probably come off as utter sarcasm or as the comment of someone who doesn´t know what he´s saying and the tone in which he uttered it made such an interpretation plausible, but even as he spoke them, he knew very well that in a way, deep down, they were true. True also was that right in this moment it crossed his mind that even if he had to nearly drown, nearly be killed first by a snake, then by the fall into some sudden chasm and then by some nightmarish bird didn´t sound half as bad if it meant he could be here. With her.

He could tell she was trying not to cling onto him too much and it occured to him that she must have noticed his cuts, but he had managed to blend out the pain. One hand holding her, the other protectively stroking her soaked hair, he had to swallow one or two times. He blinked away the rain once more and told himself that what he was blinking away was nothing but rain.

[Maeve]

His words sent a heart-wrenching shiver through her body, soon accompanied by a genuine but short chuckle that stuck in her throat, threatening to turn into a sob if she didn’t get a grip on her breathing quickly enough. Her freezing fingers slowly balled themselves into gentle fists as the rain falling down on them through the branches and leaves of the tree washed her silent tears away.

What he said was miles away from being sarcasm. There maybe was the trace of an attempt at making a joke to relieve all the stress they had gone through moments ago, but it was a barely discernible cover-up for the truth behind everything else, a truth that echoed through her chest almost painfully and that for once she didn’t try to fight back.

“Aye, me neither.”

Her voice was just above a whisper but she knew he would hear her because she wanted, needed him to hear her. The truth. Undisguised. Bare. She had watched him and she knew for a fact that he had gone through hell these pas few months. She had seen it. Denied it even. But he had no idea what she had gone through. That damn bone-crushing agony she was battling everyday because of the cursed ocean laughing at her wherever she looked, reminding her of everything she had lost. She didn’t want to pretend she had been doing just fine anymore. She was tired of lying.

Remaining completely still, in the only place she had ever truly felt safe and untouchable from the rest of the world, nothing could have torn her away from him at the moment. Nothing. And she told herself that maybe if they stayed like this until they woke up then maybe they would make it.

[Sinbad]

At least for Sinbad, the rain had ceased to exist by now. It was still raining down on them, but it was a calm rain now, unless a few minutes ago and strangely enough it seemed to be more than fitting for his mood. And this wasn´t the only reason why he was grateful for the water on his face. He told himself that it made things more real.

He was still crouching on the ground, soaked, in a not too comfortable position, but he didn´t feel like moving, not at all. Without noticing he had started to stroke her shoulder with his one hand, a small gesture trying to comfort her, because the state she was in woke his protective instincts. Her words had a hidden meaning, just like his had had a moment ago and he knew there was no further comment necessary, at least not on these words. They both knew what they meant.

"You know," he said, his chin propped on her head, "we really got to get you back where you belong. As in,... a proper ship, just a few storms a month or some lawless bandits to put in line or some lives to save... usual stuff. No sea serpets, chams and naked chicken appearing for fun." As he spoke them, his words evoked memories, both good and bad. Bad were the more recent ones and in this moment, he managed to push them away completely.

[Maeve]

She had stopped shivering by now, her breathing gradually going back to its normal rate while her muscles slowly un-tightened themselves. The rhythmical and gentle strokes of his hand on her shoulder were having a soothing effect and she could feel her body relaxing against his, the rain now almost falling down like a caress.

She smiled at his words and even found herself laughing quietly at them and at all the happy memories they reminded her of. Nevertheless, the last part of his speech stirred up the guilt inside her chest once again, but she shook it off stubbornly, because instead of focusing on the dangers and threats that had almost killed them earlier--the serpent and the other obnoxious creatures they had had to deal with-- the part of what he said that echoed and rooted in her head, and mostly in her heart, was the where you belong. Those were the words she decided to cling to. Because of everything they meant and implied.

Shifting ever so slowly, careful not to hurt him any more than he already was, she detached herself from him, just enough to be able to look at him while still remaining in his protective calming grip. She probably looked like a mess, all dirty and wet and exhausted but she couldn’t have cared less at the moment. They were alive. And together. Despite their foolish and unyielding need to protect each other all the time. Despite the raw and desperate impulses they always had to lay down their own lives for one another.

With her face merely inches away from his, her teary eyes traced his features softly, with that far-off longing expression deep inside them. Then, with a small bittersweet smile on her lips, she locked her tired and broken gaze with his, her voice nothing more than a whisper because of the knot in her throat.

“Home sounds good.”

[Sinbad]

In this moment, Sinbad didn´t notice much around him. Not the rain, not his back. All of that faded, when he suddenly became aware of how close she really was to him, but the thought was too fleeting to leave a feeling of awkwardness - or maybe it was fleeting to avoid just that, he couldn´t tell, he didn´t care.

Looking into her eyes, there it was again. That ... something he had noticed earlier, something that had not been in her eyes when she had still been with him ... them. And in that moment he felt a strange tinge of guilt, because there was that unpleasant, unsettling voice somewhere in the back of his mind, reproaching him for being egoistic. And that voice also wondered how it must have been for her, all these months, whereever she had been and still was. The answer was in her eyes and it gave away more than her short reply to his rather clumsy attempt to comfort her. And it gave him a strange feeling that slowly rose somewhere inside him, but that he knew would be more unpleasant to look at than quite some other things, if he allowed it to surface.

She was close, so close that he could make out every single eyelash, every single detail of her face and he felt torn. Part of him wanted to drink it in, wanted to just look at her, trying to memorize everything even though he knew this wasn´t necessary. Another part of him ...
He didn´t know what side to follow and leant his forehead against hers, closing his eyes for a moment and noticing right then that this was a dangerous thing to do. It made him aware how close he was to lose whatever little composure he still had.

"I´ve been missing you." he said, the "I" slipping his tongue before he could change it into a more ambiguous and less revealing "we".

[Maeve]

She shut her eyes closed to stop the tears from falling, instantly leaning in on him as he brought his forehead to hers. Vain attempt for self-control. She was going to lose it and she knew it, but she fought back her sobs as much as she could, perfectly aware that under other circumstances, she’d already have pushed him away by now and retreated into her shell to mask how vulnerable she was, but she couldn’t this time. Not here. Not now. Not when they were like this. Both so hopeless and broken. And his words just crushed her even more. The heart-wrenching truth hidden behind them, and that she had always ignored, unbearable.

Everything happens for a reason. She had believed in her mentor’s maxim for a long time but lately its essence had turned awfully bitter. What had happened to them was simply unfair. The reason behind it plainly wicked and vicious. What were they being punished for? Why did they have to endure this above everything else? Why? It was unfair. Everything. There was no why. Nothing to understand. Some people were just meant to suffer. Even in their dreams. And she was one of them.

The strong pendulum beating in her chest was beyond agonizing now. Her lungs were aching with every shaky breath that she took. But she had to speak. Had to say it.

“And I’ve been missing you.” Her voice was broken, beaten. She kept her eyes shut tightly, wishing for nothing more than to disappear in the skin burning against her own through the soft rain tickling down on their faces. If only that unbending twinge in her heart would go away. Even here, cuddled in his arms like this where she couldn’t feel any safer, where she was right where she wanted to be, the pain was there, tightening in her chest mercilessly. And it hurt so much. Now more than ever. Because they were so close. And yet so far from each other at the same time. Separated by everything still silently standing between them. All those things that still held the potential to break them.

But it didn’t matter. They couldn’t possibly sink any deeper now. And with the ache in her heart dangerously merging with the longing consuming her, she desperately leaned her head even closer to his, surrendering to this unyielding pull for self-destruction that she had, and claimed his lips softly in a bittersweet, broken kiss.

[Sinbad]

When he felt her lips on his, Sinbad responded immediately. It wasn´t a needy kiss, it was somewhere beyond mere desire and therefore something more and something else entirely. It was as if she had been picking up on his emotions and he understood in this very moment that the only reason why he hadn´t kissed her first was that he would have felt guilty about it. If there was anything he truly wanted in this moment it was to not make her feel any worse and even though he doubted he had the power to decide about that, it would have felt like he was taking advantage of her broken state. Kissing her first, even though there had been nothing he had wanted more a moment ago, would have felt wrong ... but now he knew that nothing had ever felt more right.

Somehow he knew that all these thoughts about guilt were nonsense, that they were just the remaining scraps and pieces of his usual manners that told him he had to be strong, he had to be protective and that he was all this - but even though he didn´t want to admit it, he had hardly ever felt more vulnerable than in this moment. Or more complete. Everything about this very moment, about this kiss, about her closeness made his heart ache to an extent that it was hard to bear, but still he clung on to every bit of it. Somehow, in a way, this felt like back then, their first and only kiss they had ever shared, only this time he fully realised what was going on and there was no reason to jump back. No reason to feel awkward or ashamed, even though every little moment told a tale about what he had lost. And every bit of his stubbornness refused to think that this moment might be the only one they´d ever have again.

[Maeve]

The pain in her chest was still there, but the longing was stronger, and when she felt him responding tenderly, one of her hands unhooked itself from his neck and found its way to his face, her fingers delicately tracing his jaw line and brushing against the rough unshaven stubbles that had not been there last time they had kissed. So long ago. In that moment of pure relief and joy that had soon been followed by an abrupt embarrassment. But last time had been out of the blue. A blind impulse that had both caught them off guard. This was different. She had deliberately chosen to kiss him. And even if her head was not in accord with that decision, aware of how dangerous it could be to give in, the painful hopelessness choking her heart at the moment was more powerful than anything else.

Her lips remained soft, never giving way to eager crave or desperate hunger, yet she still found herself gently deepening the kiss somehow, intent on making it last until she wouldn’t be able to breath anymore. Because of this intoxicating, blissful feeling of peace that she found on his lips which she didn’t want to detach herself from, which she just couldn’t let go of. That feeling of complete self-oblivion that erased everything else. Everything she dreaded and feared and battled inwardly everyday. Everything. Except for the bittersweet illusion of freedom she could taste on his lips moving against hers right now.

She wanted to savour every tiny little second of this kiss, every little burning touch of salvation that she could hope to steal from it. Even if she knew that it still wouldn’t be enough to save her, still wouldn’t be enough to pull her out of the endless pit she had been thrown into on that horrible pitch black night. She would just keep on falling. Falling. Falling. No matter what she did.

The rain had stopped but she never noticed. Yet she knew her face was still wet.

[Sinbad]

For the first time since Maeve had told him this was only a dream, the illusion threatened to slip from him. He could feel it gently knocking at the back of his mind, this tiny insistant voice that pretended this was real, pretending with such vigour that it was so very tempting for his mind to just give in to it. To just stop clinging to the pain that the knowledge that this was but a dream caused. Something told him that this would make it easier, would wipe away all the strange feelings he had now. But he knew that this would have been wrong. Because ignorance for him would not have been ignorance for her as well. And that realisation woke a silent fear that every fibre of his beating was now struggling against: the fear that he could wake up. But he pushed that aside, too.

Time didn´t matter, nothing mattered. There was no more rain, but he didn´t register the feeling of warm sunrays on his back. All that mattered was her closeness, her lips, her fingers tracing his face, his fingers tracing hers. And he let himself be drawn into it completely until he had to catch his breath, breaking the kiss carefully, but not moving an inch away from her.

"Maeve..." Something had just dawned on him and it didn´t help to make the twisted feeling inside him any better. The knowledge that this was temporary and could end any moment and yet he clung to it with everything he had. Because suddenly there was another thought. She had never kissed him like that, but it felt so natural, so how things should be and yet ... just like he had seen this utter, heartwrenching sadness in her eyes before, he had felt it now, too and it nearly broke him. Sadness and more ... hopelessness. The kiss of someone who wants to take as much as possible from it, yet knowing that this would only make things worse. And it was this hopelessness that made his heart ache even more. When, he wondered, when had she given up hope? A fierce, stubborn part of him insisted that he hadn´t. Screaming it inside his head ... drowning the bitter truth. He had given up hope, or at least, his head had. Not his heart. Never his heart. He had been looking for hope, for glimpses of happiness, he had been looking for it in the arms of many, desperately, but he had never found it. Never would. And he knew that.

[Maeve]

When their lips slowly parted, leaving the sweet broken remnants of their one and only intentional kiss to hang in the air between them, she kept her forehead against his, leaning on him despite the stabbing pain in her heart and despite the emptiness that was flooding right back inside her. And now, added to this usual feeling of incompleteness that had become a part of her over the past few months, a sharp twinge of fear lodged itself in her chest. The fear of losing him. All over again. In every possible way that she could lose him. But it was a silly fear and she knew it. She had no right to be afraid of losing something that had never been hers to begin with. She had no claim on him. Something she had cruelly realized recently. Or rather, something she had forced herself to believe in. He had never been hers.

But as much as she stubbornly tried to brush aside all the memories that threatened to prove her otherwise on that point, she found that it was an impossible task to do. She simply couldn’t forget everything that had happened between them since the day they had first met, as much as she helplessly forced herself to all the time, convinced it would ease all the ache stinging in every fibre of her being whenever her thoughts drifted to him. It was like trying to remember things that had never been. She couldn’t forget. The silent attraction, the dangerous intimacy, the caring sweetness, the teasing mockeries, the mutual jealousy and possessiveness. Everything connected to the cursed L word that held the power to crush her even more than she already was. He was hers. Had always been. Just like she had always been his. That silent, unacknowledged truth floating between them. Scaring them.

And the simple fact of being aware that that truth was there somewhere, its knowledge profoundly buried in the deepest corners of her heart because she was unable to embrace and accept it, yet, was making the fear of losing him again all the more unbearable.

The infuriating, heart-wrenching injustice of their separation. The helplessness against it all, insufferably consuming. “This is so unfair…” The words caught in her throat once again. But what else was there to say anyway…

Eyes shut tightly, refusing to let go of anything related to the taste of his lips lingering on hers and the warmth of his arms holding her, she didn’t even notice the other kind of warmness caressing her cheek at the moment. The small sunrays that had somehow managed to pierce the dark opacity of the sky.

[Sinbad]

Sinbad closed his eyes at her words, swallowing down the unsettling feeling that was forming somewhere in his throat, threatening to make his voice break if he allowed it to. Her words confirmed what he had thought. They sounded like a statement, like utter helplessness. And he couldn´t take that, this wasn´t how things were supposed to be like, how they should be like. He couldn´t bear seeing her like this, so broken, so vulnerable. She had never been vulnerable like this around him, had always tried to cover up her weak moments in front of him - or most of them. Seeing her give in like this was terrible to experience. He wanted to give her comfort, to tell her that everything would be fine ... but he couldn´t bring himself to say it, because he knew he could not promise her that. He wished he was stronger, but very well knew he wasn´t and that the strength he was trying to show was nothing but a facade.

"You´ve got to promise me," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "that you won´t give up." He couldn´t bear the thought of her just succumbing to this cruel fate, even though he wondered what the easier thing to do was. Hope beyond hope or try to accept things? He knew that he had never really found an answer to that and felt ashamed of the ways he had tried to deal with it. If there was anything, he thought in this moment, that could be any consolation, it was that she had never seen what had become of him. He knew that he would not be able to take it if she had been burdened with that as well. And he clung on to the hope that she had at least been protected from that.

"Never give up."
He had to swallow once more, his last words probably being a reassurance for her as much as it was one for him. He hadn´t moved an inch and he felt like just pulling her close, pressing her to him and never letting go of her again.

[Maeve]

She felt her whole body stiffen at his demand, a demand that was impossible to fulfill. She knew that she must have seemed completely broken and vulnerable and hopeless and helpless to him at the moment, and she was, but something in the unfairness of his words just stirred up her pride and her stubbornness. How could he ask of her this promise to not give up when he hadn’t even been able to hold on himself? And even if he had, somehow, managed to hold on through that reckless roughness, that ravenous and greedy flirting, that dark toughness and carelessness, through all the things she had witnessed, then not only did he have despicable ways of dealing with their separation, but she simply didn’t have the same means of getting through this as he did. What he had lost on that stormy night was nothing compared to what she had lost.

Back in his world, the world he would wake up to after this dream, he still had everything. His ship, his crew, his friends, his family. He had smiles surrounding him and cheering him up. Shoulders to lean on. Backs to count on. He had the whole world within his reach. He had his freedom. Heck, he even had her own brother! And the empty spot her departure had left him with had easily been filled by someone else.

He had everything. She had nothing. No escape routes to wander on to forget the pain like he could.

So while all his means allowed him to hold on, hers did exactly the opposite. What she had was an old, dear mentor who was weakening a little bit more every day without her being able to do anything about it. She had magical abilities that were useless against the realm’s confines. She had sand. And she had water. That’s it. That’s all she had. The latter being the vicious reminder of everything she had lost and was still losing. Everywhere she could turn her head the ocean would be there, haunting and tormenting her, its invisible chains and walls breaking her without mercy, pity or rest. Hope had long been the only thing she could cling to but it had deserted her. Because she hadn’t been strong enough to hold on to it. Not strong enough to believe in it. And how could it have been otherwise with everything she had seen? So piece by piece it had slipped away from her, just like the little inner flame that used to burn so animatedly within her had flickered away. Her fiery essence down to blazing ashes. Because she had nothing to keep it alive with. Memories were not enough.

So what he was asking of her now was unfair. Something she couldn’t give him.

Trying to tap into what little composure she had left, her lips still tingling from the kiss, she shifted in his arms to put some space between their faces, unable to bear the closeness that would give him the chance to decipher her, something he was too good at even after all this time. Locking her arms once again around his neck, she rested her chin on his shoulder to escape his gaze, aware that she was pulling him closer as she did so but convincing herself that it was purely to obtain body heat, so that they wouldn’t freeze to death in their soaked clothes. Her voice wasn’t shaky or fragile anymore since she had forced herself to get a grip on it even if her chest was still pretty knotted.

“You can’t ask me this.”

The meaning behind her words alone could have been ambiguous, but the low, soft and even tone of her voice told everything. Her words weren’t meant as “you can’t ask me this because I’m not strong enough to do it” but as “you can’t ask me this because you have no right to”.

[Sinbad]

He noticed that her voice had changed, was sounding less shaky, as if she had at least to some extent succeeded in getting a grip of herself again, but he was pretty certain that her voice did not reflect what things really looked inside her. And her reply wasn´t what he had hoped for even though he wasn´t quite sure what he had expected. Just a silent nod or a returned promise that she would? He knew that he had hoped for that, had hoped for at least being able to comfort her a bit ... or having her give the appearance he could? Guilt stuck him with the question whether he had not also wanted that reply for himself. To feel better. But he decided that this was irrelevant.

But if she couldn´t promise him that it meant she was denying the only thing he could possibly do to help her. They would soon be apart again and from where he was there was nothing that he could do to reach her, to help her, to comfort her and tell her that one day things were going to be all right again ... appearing strong even though he himself was so uncertain of the future. There were no means of communication, no magical connection, nothing. Having her take that promise was his only way to try and reassure her. But she had denied it and that made his heart ache even more.

He sighed inwardly, staring ahead at the soaked ground where small sunrays were braking on the little puddles the rain had left behind in the soil. "Why not?" he asked, no reproach in his voice, without knowing really why he asked it and with something telling him that this wasn´t something he even should ask, but unable to keep it back. He didn´t want to hurt her, never wanted, but she meant the world to him and when the world was set astray he wanted to try whatever he could to set it back right. He had not done that for far too long and felt utterly shabby for it. He had given up already, succumbing to his misery that he pretended was not there. He should not be asking her this, because she was so much stronger than him. So much stronger.

[Maeve]

Deep down, she had known he would press again. How could he have not? After all, her answer was anything but reassuring and satisfying; it lead to believe that she had already given up, or that she inevitably would, eventually. So of course he was pressing. Still, the fact that he dared ask for an explanation even after she had told him he couldn’t somehow cornered her. She felt stuck, ambushed. The imperativeness of choosing her words very carefully in order not to reveal anything too damaging for his sake, weighting down on her heavily.

She couldn’t promise him that she wouldn’t give up, simply because she’d be lying if she did. And she couldn’t do that. Not anymore. It was already hard enough to keep from him the fact that she had been watching him all this time, had seen what he had become, and had been deeply crushed by it to the core, that even the smallest white lie concerning this promise would destroy her. At this point, she preferred covering up the truth, masking it with something evasive, neutral. Anything but lying. Hence, she once again went for the coward elusiveness.

“Because it won’t make any difference.”

His embrace was too much now. She needed her space. Needed her own incompleteness and emptiness. She pulled away from him, still staying close but not touching him, an ice-freezing coldness already seizing her up and creeping into her bones. Her gaze was distant and closed off, never meeting his directly. She couldn’t bring herself to let it.

“And because this is a dream.”

She wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to fence the small lingering warmth of his body inside hers. She didn’t know why she used the dream as an argument. Maybe because it reached beyond reality, having no relevancy in the real world. Or maybe, and that’s what suddenly scared her the most, because there was the chance that they wouldn’t remember it.