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Adaine took a deep breath as she took in the smell of the ocean, salty and fresh and fishy as it was. She desperately tried to calm her rapid heartbeat as she stood on the edge of the cliff, closing her eyes to the waves crashing underneath her, but it wasn’t working. She could still hear them, crashing just as methodically as her breaths, threatening to pick her up with them and take her deep under their foamy surface. Threatening to drag her down, down, down, threatening to hold her under them until her eyes floated open and her breathing stopped while theirs would continue on and on, claiming more of the people she loved until there was nothing left. Threatening to take her just as they had taken her predecessor, just as they had taken her in the Forest of the Nightmare King, except this time they wouldn’t let her go. Her heart stumbled as she fell to her knees, clutching her chest, breath ragged and hair buffeted about by the wind that felt as though it could knock her over at any point. The ocean crashed onto the cliff beneath her, shaking her body, about to come get her, about to consume her, because it wanted her, it wanted to take her into its dark oblivion, and it was going to have its way, too, and all of a sudden she was falling, falling —
Adaine woke up with a start, ears still ringing and heart still racing and breath still ragged.
She pushed her face into her pillow and wound her hands into her hair.
Fuck.
Adaine knew, rationally, that her fear of the ocean was both founded and unfounded. She knew that she had a psychological reason as to why she was afraid of the ocean, knew that it was built into her genes as the Oracle along with a taste for oranges and a little bit of a thing about people using plastic straws. She knew, as well, that being half-drowned in a nightmare-fueled forest tended to leave people with somewhat of a bad taste in their mouths concerning the ocean.
She also knew that logically, there was not much to be scared about in the ocean.
Aelwyn, after a beach date with Sam, told her that she should just go for it and face her fears. Crash into the ocean and deal with it. She had been fine at the beach, and their parents had also instilled a fear of the ocean into her.
“Yes,” Adaine had said, “but your girlfriend is a water genasi. And you didn’t almost drown once. And you aren’t the elven oracle.”
Aelwyn had rolled her eyes at that, but conceded anyways.
When she talked about it with Fabian — which she shouldn’t have, she really shouldn’t have, she should have known how he would get — he looked wistfully up into the sky, for whatever reason.
“Ahh, the sea,” he started, sighing. Riz, who was sitting on the other side of the couch reading a book entitled So You’ve Invented a Deity by Accident: How to Get Rid of Annoying Gods, made pointed eye contact with Adaine as Fabian lifted his legs onto Riz’s lap so that he was laying sideways on the couch.
“It’s truly one of the most beautiful things in the world. The sea is beautiful, with a magic of her own, yet she is also intensely powerful,” Fabian said, gesticulating wildly. Riz rolled his eyes at Adaine, who stifled a laugh. “She takes some time to get used to, I will admit it, but once you do, she will be your best mate forever. She is impossible to stop loving.” He paused to readjust his eyepatch, which had come slightly askew in his fervor. “I will say, there was a time when I, too, was afraid of her — the sea, of course — when I fell into her while possessed by Kalina. And then I was saved by The Ball, of course, and we all know how that turned out,” he said, winking at Riz, who promptly blushed dark green, “and now I’m all cured and back in love with the sea,” he finished, leaning his arm against the edge of the couch nearest to Adaine.
Adaine smiled at him from her armchair, patting his arm. “That’s lovely, Fabian, and I’m appreciative of how much you’re in love with, uh — the sea, I guess — but that gives me really very little information on what to do about my fear.”
Fabian frowned. “Who said you had to do anything about your fear? A little fear of the ocean is healthy, according to my recently departed papa.”
Riz gave him a look. “He ‘departed’ about a year and a half ago, Fabian.”
“He just departed onto his newest voyage into Stygia, the icey sea of the Nine Hells, where he has yet to venture until now, The Ball. Obviously,” Fabian says, rolling his eyes.
“Anyways,” Adaine said, tapping her fingers on her jeans (a recent purchase on a shopping spree with her sister), “the sea’s important to be a little afraid of. But how do you not be — like, all the way afraid of it — uh, her?”
Fabian scoffed. “As with any fear, the only thing you can do is charge straight forward!” he said, punching his arm up towards the ceiling. Riz made a noise from next to him. “Well, possibly not always straight forward.” Riz made a slightly more triumphant noise.
Adaine frowned at both of them.
Riz looked up from his book, sighing. “Adaine, you don’t have to charge straight in, or whatever, but you do eventually have to do something or else you’re gonna just have these nightmares over and over.”
Adaine furrowed his eyebrows at him. “How do you know I’ve been having nightmares?”
“‘Cause I have,” Riz said, shrugging. “And you used to, before. So. Wasn’t hard to put the pieces together.”
“What have you been having nightmares about?” Adaine said, watching as Fabian scooted just a little closer to Riz so that he could hold his hand. Adaine appreciated this about Fabian and Riz; she knew that Fabian wasn’t getting closer to Riz out of pity but because he was essentially a cat who needed attention at all times. Once he’d gotten over his initial panic whenever Riz so much as brushed against him, he sought his touch out whenever he could, and now was no different.
Riz sighed again and moved his bookmark to his current page. “Just, like, a lot of things. Cats, shadows, mirrors. Catching glimpses of myself but it’s not quite me. I get some nightmares about having nightmares, if that makes any sense. I never really got any while we were on the trip, and so now there’s a lot of them.” Adaine and Fabian both nodded, with Fabian scooting just a little bit closer to Riz. “I dunno. If it helps, I’ve been considering getting a cat.”
Adaine laughed. “If you get a cat, I’ll jump off a cliff into the ocean.” Riz looked up at her with shining eyes, always one for a good safe dare. “A small one,” she amended.
Riz smiled, and Fabian punched Adaine lightly on the arm in his excitement. “Deal,” Riz said, putting out his hand, and Adaine shook his hand via mage-hand in the air so she wouldn’t have to get up.
“Deal.”
When she talked about it with Fig and Ayda — who were always together these days, which got a little annoying — which was something she tried not to think too hard about, because she shouldn’t be jealous of their relationship because it was something they both worked hard on — but she sort of was anyways, even though she tried not to be — they said that she should go slowly.
“When I told Jawbone about my fear of rejection, he said to take my time,” Fig told her as she reached for the cereal on top of the fridge. “Exposure therapy, or whatever.”
“What does that mean exactly?” Adaine, who had just gone through a major and unexpected (and, frankly, unwelcome) growth spurt, grabbed the cereal for Fig. “Get rejected a bunch?”
Fig stuck out her tongue as she took the container from Adaine, and then set it on the counter. “Put myself out there, try not be afraid of the consequences. That sort of thing.” She opened the fridge and pulled out the gallon of milk. “I guess for you it’s a little more literal than it was for me, though. All you have to do is go to the beach.”
Ayda, who was busy mage-handing bowls out of the cupboard while simultaneously finishing a crossword on the kitchen table, added, “Slowly, of course. No need to rush yourself. Exposure therapy supposedly only works if you don’t overwhelm yourself.”
“Oh!” said Fig, putting the milk back on the counter and closing the fridge with her hip. “We could come with. Take you on a friend-date to the beach, or something. We can, like, go on a nice sunny day away from cliffs and just chill for a bit. Play some music, get some tanning in, all that.” She poured her ingredients into the three bowls in front of her, milk-first, and Adaine visibly shuddered.
Ayda smiled up from her crossword, which she’d already finished and was now re-filling in with synonyms of each word. “I don’t believe that phoenixes particularly go well with the ocean, but I’d be willing to come along and ‘chill,’ as you call it. We could also pack a picnic, if you’d like?”
“Yes! Dude, that sounds so perfect. Adaine, you in? We could even go this weekend?” Fig said, lifting the cereal back up on top of the fridge.
Adaine smiled. If she was going to do something she was afraid of, she might as well do it with her two transitive best friends.
“Let’s do it. Fuck it, am I right?”
Fig punched the air, the jug of milk in her hand sloshing over the edges just a bit. “Fuck it!”
Ayda nervously watched Fig lick the milk off her hands as she put the cap back on the milk, then grinned up at Adaine. “It is a date.”
The wind buffeted against Adaine as she turned away from the ocean, the pattern of its waves crashing below her a taunt for her cowardice. She tried to step forward, away from the cliff’s edge, but to no avail — the wind pushed her backwards towards the treacherous ocean, and the darkness of everything threatened to envelop her. There was a light, just ahead of her, a flaming brightness in the storm, just barely illuminating a pair of wings and the tips of a pair of horns next to it, and if only she could just get to it — but the wind kept on pushing her back, and she stumbled backwards until she finally stepped off of the cliff, stepping into nothingness and falling, falling, falling —
Adaine woke in her bed, hands clenched at her sides. She rubbed her palms into her eyes and, without thinking, stepped quietly out of bed.
She tiptoed past her sister, thinking just enough to put on a sweater over the pair of shorts and tank top she was already wearing. She slipped out the door and quietly made her way through the house until she got to the back door. She bumped the sliding glass door just a bit too hard on her way out and held her breath until she was sure no one had heard it.
When she got out the door, she laid down on the overgrown grass and sighed, stretching her limbs out as far as they’d go. She looked up at the wide expanse above her, trying not to think about how the little pinpricks of stars were balls of fire just like Ayda’s hair. Adaine sucked in a deep breath of fresh air and closed her eyes.
She was deeply absorbed in the process of trying to breathe in every individual molecule of oxygen that she could and feeling every individual blade of grass under her in order to avoid thinking about her dream when she heard someone shut the door just a little too hard in just the same way she had.
Except this person was just a little bit stronger than her.
“Hi, Gorgug,” Adaine said, eyes still closed.
“Hey, Adaine. Can I lie here next to you? I promise not to talk if you don’t wanna.”
Adaine nodded. “You’re okay. I wouldn’t mind talking, if you wanted to, actually.”
“Oh,” said Gorgug, stretching his considerably longer limbs out next to Adaine. “Okay.”
There was a beat of silence while Adaine gathered her thoughts. It felt a bit like gathering her magic, this; collecting everything large inside you into one bunch so that you could try to funnel it all out. It didn’t always translate the same way, inside and out, complex to simple, but she liked the process anyways.
“I — I had a dumb dream. About the ocean and everything, which is fairly normal. But like, this time —” Adaine took a deep breath — “Ayda was there too. And Fig, but that’s happened before.”
Gorgug furrowed his brows just a tiny bit.
“I think — I think I might like Ayda,” Adaine said, summoning every bit of confidence she had.
“Yeah, I figured.”
Adaine sighed. “Yeah. I haven’t exactly been subtle, have I?”
Gorgug laughed a little. “You’re all good. Don’t think she knows, at least.”
Adaine hummed.
Gorgug stayed silent.
“I just — I just — I feel so stupid” Adaine said after a second.
Gorgug looked down at her, perplexed. “Why do you feel stupid?” He said it stew-pid, like Adaine did with her accent, and it made Adaine relax into her words, just a little.
“Just — I was her friend first. I liked her first. She and I had inside jokes first, and we were the first to teach each other something, and she named her fish after me, and I was the first person to truly care about her out of all of us, and — and — it should have been me.” Adaine lifted both hands towards the sky. “And of course Fig loves her and of course they make each other better and happier and I would never — never ever ever — want to break them up, because they make perfect sense together, I just —” she flopped her hands back down to the ground “— every day of my life, I wish I had gotten to say how I feel first. I hate resenting Fig for kissing her first. I hate resenting Ayda for not understanding that I liked her. I hate resenting my own fucking self for not realizing the ways in which I cared about her sooner. It’s all exhausting, and I just wish — I just wish that I’d said something. Is all.” Adaine crossed her arms over her chest.
Gorgug turned his body so that he was facing Adaine. “So say something.”
Adaine groaned. “It’s too late now! God, this is all so awful.”
“How is it too late?”
“They’re already together,” Adaine sighed, “and now there’s no hope for me, because even if they break up Fig would never forgive me if I dated Ayda. And Ayda would never forgive me if I dated Fig.”
Gorgug hummed. “Didn’t know you also wanted to date Fig.”
“I — I don’t — I didn’t — I don’t think so. Or — or maybe I do? I don’t know,” Adaine sighed again. “Everything is so muddled up. How do any of you people tell friend-feelings from romance-feelings?”
Gorgug shrugged. “Dunno. Sometimes it just feels like — to me, it feels like romance feelings and friend feelings are just, like, different sides of the same coin, and it just comes down to what you like to do with them. And if you prefer, like, kissing them and also talking with them or, like, just talking with them. If it feels right it feels right. And if you keep coming back to the more kissing side of things, in your brain or in, like, real life, it probably means you like them.”
“Huh,” Adaine said, sitting up to put her hair into a bun.
“Like, I dunno. With me and Zel, kissing was nice, but it never felt, like, right? Exactly? And so we talked about it and we decided that we just liked, like, talking about music and being strong.” Adaine nodded and stretched the hair tie on her wrist around her bun. “Or, like, I just like Ragh as a friend even though we kissed, and like, yeah, I think about that kiss all the time, and yeah I kinda wanna do it again, and yeah he’s said he wants to do it again, and the thought of that makes me, like, kinda excited, but, like — oh shit,” Gorgug said, turning dark green in the moonlight. “I think I might kinda like Ragh?”
Adaine felt a laugh burble up in her throat. “You love to see it. Gay crises everywhere these days.”
Gorgug laughed, turning onto his back again. “Fuck. Sorry. I guess I kinda suck at advice.”
“No! Of course you don’t,” Adaine said as she laid back down. “You’re actually really helping. And hey, if you figure some shit out yourself as you talk — that’s cool too, you know?”
Gorgug sighed. “Yeah, guess so.” He shifted his legs so that they were both bent upwards. “Anyways, so if I tell Ragh I like him, will you tell Fig and Ayda that you like both of them?”
“Both of them?”
Gorgug rolled his eyes. “Yeah, obviously. Haven’t you liked Fig for, like, ever?”
Adaine furrowed her eyebrows. “No. What? No!”
“But you called her babygirl like, twice, freshman year, and you keep saving her and shit. And when she gave you bardic those first couple times you almost passed out. And you said you’ve dreamt about her a couple times? I dunno, just seemed right.”
“Gorgug, we’re adventurers. That’s what we do. I save you all the time. Doesn’t mean I like you.”
Gorgug shrugged. “Whatever. Me ‘n’ Fab totally thought you did, but whatever. I’m just saying — if you dated both of them, like, maybe it could work out?”
Adaine covered her face with her hands. “Ughhhh. Why can’t all of this just be easy?”
“Yeah,” said Gorgug, folding his hands under his head and elbowing Adaine in the process. “Yeah.”
“Anyways,” Adaine said after a second of silence, “what are you doing out here, anyways? I just remembered that you don’t even live here.”
“Oh!” Gorugug said, “I think technically me ’n’ Fig were having a band meeting, although I can never really tell with her, and then I heard the screen door close and wanted to make sure you were okay. Didn’t know if I’d help much, but. Just wanted to check, either way.”
Adaine smiled as she felt her cheeks warm up against the cold night air. “You’re such a softie, Gorgug.”
Gorgug laughed lightly. “Takes one to know one.” He shifted so that he was sitting up on his elbows. “You wanna go back in?”
Adaine smiled. “Yeah. I think I’m ready to face my bullshit nightmares again.”
“Hell yeah!” Gorgug whisper-yelled, pulling her up.
The two walked back towards the house. When they got back to the stairs, Gorgug gave her a rib-crushing hug.
“You’ll figure it out,” he said. “That’s pretty much the only thing I know for sure. Adaine will figure it out, whatever it is.” He looked out the back window. “And that that fucking lawn won’t be mowed.” Adaine laughed, her heart so warm she felt like it would burst and her eyes threatening to spill ocean-spray tears.
“I love you, Gorgug.”
“I love you too, Adaine. Get a good sleep, yeah?”
“You too. Don’t let Fig kick you too much in her sleep.”
Gorgug smiled, groaning all the same, as he turned away to walk towards his room.
Adaine smiled, too, all the way up to hers.
A room that felt like hers, and a house that felt like hers, and people that felt like hers as far as people could.
What a concept.
Adaine was quiet when Kristen found her outside the next, sunbathing on the back porch of the mansion.
Kristen wasn’t quiet; Kristen was never quiet. Kristen, even when she was alone, talked to herself and tripped over things and hummed bits of Fig and Gorgug’s songs. Kristen, at this particular moment, was interspersing the lyrics of “Burn Towns Get Money” with what Adaine could only assume were the contents of a future letter to Tracker.
She was balancing a plate of avocado toast with fried eggs (a bit burnt, but overall okay) and an orange as she walked over towards Adaine, still presumably stuck on whether she should say “I love you so much, baby” or “love you tons, babe” but set to the tune of “BTGM.”
“Oh!” she said, tripping over a chair. “Hey, Adaine, do you think that I should say —”
“The first one’s better,” Adaine said, nursing her lemon tea to her chest.
“Oh,” said Kristen, humming a little as she sat down next to Adaine. “Didn’t know you could hear all that.”
“It’s all good,” Adaine said, scooting over on the porch to make room. Kristen nodded at Adaine, distracted. “I think you’re really getting better at this long distance thing, if it helps.”
Kristen smiled. “Thanks! It’s really hard, but I haven’t had to write an apology letter in almost three weeks.”
“Good for you,” said Adaine, still staring out at the overgrown yard in front of them. Jawbone was many things — a loving father and uncle, an incredible activist, a wonderful therapist, very good at making oatmeal raisin cookies taste better than chocolate chip ones — but he was awful at taking care of the yard. One of these days, Gorgug was going to get angry enough about it to go into a rage and cut the grass by accident.
“You okay?”
Adaine turned to face Kristen. “Hmm? Oh, fine.”
Kristen leaned back on her elbows. “You just seem a little — distant, I guess.”
“No, m’good.”
“Okay,” Kristen said, voice tinged with skepticism. “Cause, like. You’ve helped me with Tracker shit at least four times this week, so if you want me to listen to your problems for a sec I can.”
“Friendship isn’t a transaction, Kristen, but thanks anyways,” Adaine said, smiling weakly before going back to staring at the backyard. She sipped on her tea and tried hard to force her thoughts once more towards the uncut grass; who could she bother next to ensure that it would get mowed? Maybe Sandra Lynn had a lawnmower, or a weed wacker, or some sort of spell —
“Y’know,” Kristen said, interrupting Adaine’s thoughts. “I used to get like this, sometimes. Before I, like, met Tracker, and discovered myself, and all that.”
“What do you mean?” Adaine said, frowning as she set her tea down.
“Like, okay. I know y’all all know me as someone who talks all the time and goes on long rambling speeches where I figure out a million things about myself, but I didn’t used to be like that. I used to be a lot quieter, actually. I’d pray for hours to Helio to rid me of my ‘sinful desires,’ or whatever, and then I’d pray to myself to figure out some way around being the chosen one, and then I’d just lie in my bed and think about literally anything but what was going on deeper inside of me. I’d try to do that thing I’d heard of monks doing where they can just, like, totally turn off their brains and think of nothing. And then I’d always end up thinking about some pretty girl in my class and then I’d have to pray to Helio again and it would just be a big long cycle. So. Yeah,” she said, shrugging. “I know that kind of silence. I don’t know exactly what’s going on with you, or what you’re doing with your silence, but I know that kind of quiet, and I know that something’s going on.”
Adaine groaned and shoved her face into her hands. “Oh god,” she mumbled into her hands. “Am I that transparent?”
Kristen smiled. “Only to a former baby-gay, maybe?”
Adaine laughed into her hands, sudden and short, then lifted her face up to face Kristen, sighing. “I dunno, honestly. Last night I came to a bunch of realizations, and it was — really nice, and I felt really good and, like, almost giddy? And then I woke up this morning with just — just this pit in the bottom of my stomach. Like, Gorthalax, Nine-Hells, Bottomless-Pit-style dread. And I can’t help feeling like I’m spinning off into something I don’t really know for sure. Like, what if I make some big declaration and then I find out I’m wrong, later? But it’s too late, and I’ve already hurt a bunch of people? Or what if the things I’m not sure about — what if I’ll never be sure about them? What if I’m just a mess forever?”
Kristen tucked a piece of her corn-yellow hair behind her ear and then did the same for Adaine’s own white-blonde hair. “Okay, I’d love to hear about your realizations, but first I’ll say this: if it has to do with being gay — or even if it doesn’t, honestly — you’re never fully sure. Sometimes me and Riz’ll hang out and I’m like, fuck, what if I actually do like boys after all? And then Tracker comes in and my whole body reacts —” Adaine scrunched her nose “— not like that, just in the way that I love her, get your mind out of the gutter — and I know that no one matters to me as much as her. It’s not the same for everyone, of course, but your body knows. Even if your brain isn’t sure, your body can tell. Look at me,” she said, tipping Adaine’s chin towards her. “How do you feel when you think about me?”
“I dunno,” Adaine said, shrugging. “Happy? Like —” she closed her eyes. “Like warm, and comforted. And also like I’m about to laugh.”
“See? Your body knows that you like me, and what you like about me, and in what ways you like me.”
Adaine opened her eyes. “Huh. I’ve never thought about it like that.”
“We’re Team Broken Family, girl. I know what it feels like to not trust your emotions. To feel like you’re emotionally stunted just a little bit, and to overcompensate in one direction or another. But your body knows.” She smiled at Adaine mischeviously. “Okay. Now what does it feel like when you’re around Fig? Or Ayda?”
Adaine crossed her arms. “Shut up. How did you know?”
Kristen laughed, loud and all-knowing and a little evil. “Muahaha. I know all.”
Adaine stared at her, eyes narrowing. “Was Gorgug a snake?”
Kristen grinned. “Maybe.”
“That little fucking snake. I’m going to kill him next time I see him. Forget about the fucking lawn. I’m the oracle, and right now I’m seeing visions of Tasha’s Hideous Laughter all over that fucker’s face.”
“Don’t kill him too much, I need his advice on my next Tracker letter.”
Adaine sighed. “He really has gotten good at advice. When did that happen?”
“Dunno. He does seem wiser lately, but maybe that’s always been there.”
“Or maybe we’re all growing up.”
Kristen groaned. “Ugh. Don’t remind me,” she said, standing up. “Okay, I gotta go. Me and Ragh are planning for the first QSA meeting of next school year. I can’t believe we’re gonna be fucking juniors, Jesus Christ.”
Adaine smiled. “Say hi to Ragh for me!”
“Will do. I guess you could, like, come if you wanted. Now that you’re here and family and all that.”
“Nah, I’m all good for now. Not quite ready to make a declaration that big. I’ll come to the first meeting for sure, though!”
“Sounds good. See ya!” Kristen waved, almost stepping on her plate as she walked backwards towards the screen door. “Fuck,” she said, bending down to pick it up. “Forgot I had this.” She shrugged. “Oh well, guess I’ll eat it in the van. Byeeee,” she said, elongating the last syllable as she disappeared through the door.
“Byeeee,” Adaine mimicked, picking her tea back up. She leaned against the back of the porch and tucked the mug under her chin, contemplating. Maybe she’d see if Fig and Ayda were around to go to the beach. Or maybe she’d let it happen eventually, try to not rush it.
Either way, she knew that she could trust her friends to help her through it.
And herself. For once, she knew that she could also trust herself.
Fig squealed as she splashed water towards Ayda, then squealed even louder when Ayda splashed even more back, a big booming burst of water that practically sent Fig backwards.
“Hey! No fair! You can’t use magic on a water fight! What if we got attacked, or something, and you had no spells left?”
“It’s not magic,” Ayda said, deadpan. “It’s water bending. I’m water bending. Like in —”
“Avatar,” Fig said, sighing. “Why did I show you that again?”
Ayda shrugged, grinning, and sent another splash Fig’s way. Fig squealed, somehow even louder than the past few times, as she ran splashing further inland, towards Adaine. “Fine! I’ve got fire bending then, I guess, and I challenge you to an Agni Kai.”
“So we shall duel,” Ayda said, crossing her arms in front of her.
“Wait, hold up,” said Fig, turning around. “Adaine. Ref? Please? We need someone who likes us both equally, which rules out that fucking seagull over there.”
“Oh, so you were considering the seagull? Over me, your dear best friend?” Adaine said, raising an eyebrow from her place on a towel several feet away. “Even after it pooped on your sandwich?”
“And you considered eating it anyways?” Ayda added.
Fig dissolved into giggles. “Okay, fuck both of you,” she said, pointing at them in turn. “Maybe I will consider the seagull after all. It was just doing nature’s duty.”
“Okay, fine with me,” Adaine said, pushing up her sunglasses and going back to her book.
“No! Wait! I’m just kidding! Adaine, will you please please pretty please be our referee? I promise to never consider a seagull over you and also love you forever.”
“Thought you already were going to do that?”
“I’ll love you extra a lot,” Fig said, batting her eyelashes at Adaine, who felt her stomach flip on itself. “Please?”
Adaine smiled. “Fine. But don’t pretend I’m perfectly impartial,” she said, adjusting her towel. “And don’t get me wet before I’m ready to get into the water.”
Fig grinned, setting her sights on Ayda and mirroring her stance. “Fine with me. Ready, babe?”
“Oh, I’m extremely ready. You will not fluster me this time.”
“Don’t underestimate me,” Fig said as she sent a wave Ayda’s way. Ayda turned it around herself and pushed it right back towards Fig, who created a fireball in front of her face that evaporated the water as soon as it got near her.
Adaine, against her better judgement, swooned a little. She sighed. God, she was too easily swayed by these two.
As she half-read and half-watched the improvised Agni Kai developing in front of her, she considered going into the water again. When they’d first arrived at the beach, she’d felt her stomach churn, but something about the way Fig’s fingers pressing into her arm as she helped her across the sand and Ayda humming under her breath helped to calm her.
Soon, the steady rhythm of all three of their breaths syncopated with the sounds of the waves, and she began to wonder what it was she’d been so worried about. In her dreams, the waves matched up with her breathing as well, but in a way that felt ominous and menacing, like the sea was threatening to envelop her and use her breath to help power its rhythmic crashing. Like she was going to become a part of it.
But now, it just felt like they were all part of the same system that was already breathing and circling around itself. Like it was another reminder that they were all part of the same living thing. Like they weren’t too dissimilar, after all.
She still hadn’t wanted to get in right away; the ocean was just a little too forceful in its crashes, wanted her just a little too much.
She could relate, she supposed; watching Fig strip down into her bathing suit had done something to her, no matter how much Fig blushed and reminded them that the frilly baby blue one-piece was “a product of a different time and a different Fig.” She watched Ayda fly into the air and let herself fall, laughing, like she was weightless, and then watched the admiration-turned-competition in Fig’s eyes as she tried to find a way to do the same thing. She watched as the two of them pulled her closer, to each other and to the ocean, respecting when she said no but still challenging to go further, to be more.
Adaine figured that relating to the ocean was the first step in getting along with it.
Fig turned around suddenly, panting expectantly at Adaine. “So?”
“So?”
“I won, right?”
Adaine sighed. “I have to be honest, I really wasn’t paying attention that much.”
“You asshole,” Fig said, grinning and splashing some water vaguely Adaine’s way. “I promise not to forcefully add you to our Agni Kai if you join us now. Only if you’re ready, of course,” she said, tentatively.
Adaine looked at Ayda, fiery hair and determined eyes glistening even more in the sun, and Fig, drenched and wild. She felt her chest relaxing, a bright spot amongst her already bright insides. Felt her body warm in ways that the sun couldn’t ever hope to warm her. Felt her heart and stomach tug on her like the tides to move closer, closer.
Adaine smiled and stood up.
“I’m ready,” she said, and as she took her first baby steps towards the ocean, best friends watching excitedly, she felt ready to take on the whole entire world.
Or at the very least, herself.