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The birds called near the edge of the temple, accented only by the crashing of waves against the shore. In the distance, Connie was rounding the cliff face, her feet sinking into the sand as she moved hastily across the beach. She had grown much taller, much stronger, much older since they had first begun her training. Steven had celebrated his 19th birthday the last moon with Connie already leading him in age. Both had surpassed everything Pearl had thought them capable of. Pearl didn’t know when it started. Maybe it was not long after Steven had thrown a party for her coming of age. Maybe it was after the party for her acceptance to the local college. At any rate, it had persisted since then; the casual flirting that she used to ignore, pretend it all went over her head, anything to avoid the endless flirting Connie would shoot at her during their training. She had even been so bold to do so in front of Steven who only encouraged her.
It had gotten difficult for her to continually deny, often firing back in moments of misguided judgement and pride. Her words would clash like the metal of their swords, meeting each other in the heat of battle, eyes locked with smiles crinkling their edges. It was a dangerous dance, one they practiced with pristine footwork, never once straying from the pattern. Pearl often prided herself on this; these graceful movement, this precise plan. But Connie wasn’t precise. She was unpredictable and unmatched next only by Pearl herself. A bubbling crescendo to her ever constant melody.
The brush of her lips was sudden, unannounced after a particularly fast paced match. Pearl let her guard down and Connie was warm and soft, smelling of clean sweat with faint traces of cinnamon. They stared for only a moment before they were upon one other again, Pearl initiating this time.
The woman’s calloused hands wrapped around her waist, drawing Pearl into her. She explored Connie’s face with her fingertips, running over every small scar, any minute interruption in the soft skin that Pearl could find. Connie took it upon herself it explore the curve of Pearl’s back, arching gently upwards in her arms. Her breath was hot, mingling with hers as Connie inhaling in small pants between kisses.
It was when the ghost of a hand ran along her waist, cupping her hip bone ever so carefully that she remembered. Remembered when Rose used to do this, so gently, tearing down everything Pearl had built up. How she had been her everything, how Pearl had been her everything. Even after she had taken interest in new lovers, it was always Pearl she came back to. Until she didn’t.
Pearl pushed Connie away, a small part of her mourning the loss of the heat against her skin, but she shook her head. The pinprick of tears caught in the corner of her eyes, her throat closing up from what, she wasn’t sure. Pearl looked up, the hurt and anger apparent on Connie’s face, both warranted. In shame, Pearl turned her head down as the woman stared at her. They stood like that for a while, small tears falling heavy from Pearl’s eyes and against the ground.
“So, is that it?” Connie asked, her voice broken and wavering slightly at the end. Pearl lifted her gaze, seeing Connie’s face riddled with tears, much more then her own was. Her posture was defensive but assertive, staring her down with everything she had. “I,” Pearl turned away again, images of Rose flashing in her mind, followed quickly by the solid of Connie’s body under her touch, the ripple of muscles, and heat of her breath. Both blurred together in her mind, only distressing her further. “Yes,” she managed, rushing around her and out of the training area. Her footsteps echoed through the training area, accented only by the sobs of Connie that wracked her body.