Chapter Text
apricity
Kalliope crossed his sore knees, allowing the brush of the grass against the underside of his legs. Cassidy exhaled, blowing bits of seaweed from her bangs, her throat sore with screams. She raised her head from where she was looking down. Kalliope refused to look up, sniffling and clearly drunk from his previous episodes.
He had decided many times to get drunk without any regret, spent so many days outside falling on his face and refusing to do anything after his brother and nephew's death. He'd bitten the ground so many times out of regret of not doing anything; it was nonsensical, he looked stupid biting the soil and crying so many times that his dead companion—a sprited dryad named Lirael—had plunged him into depths from which few could escape.
Kalliope bit the cap so many times his tooth chipped. He found himself regretting that now. Cassidy of course had found his miserable self, her long dress, the popular bard who sang songs only so few people would pay for, and extended her hand. Months later Kalliope found when she fell asleep and her bandana that she had newly acquired slipped away and a dry scar on her neck showed exactly why she had lost the shine in her eyes. Kalliope scoffed, he'd thought that at first, but then he found out she didn't like singing at all. The reason for the scar... he didn't know. He'd ask.
They'd spent so many days spinning out of their minds that when he tried remembering what had happened the past few days, he blanked. He remembered the town hero, and that was it. A siren fight, and... he assumed that was what happened before they stranded on this beach. Blearily, he finally looked at Cassidy. His sore stomach didn't dare stop. If he hadn't been so depressed, he could've helped her. Saved her.
She pointed at his thin headband on his forehead, "What happened there?"
"Could I ask you something first?" Kalliope responded, hearing his own voice after a while. He outstretched his legs, and looked at her, waiting for Cassidy.
"Sure."
Nervously, he started, "I saw your bandana one night when we slept together," He paused. "Why do you have a scar on your neck?"
Cassidy yawned, looking at the sparkling waves. She remembered her previous temptation to drink salt water. "Someone cut my neck. I yelled at him, he deserved it, of course, and then..." She made a quick slicing motion. "He got angry. I don't regret it, I think."
He stared for a while. "It hurt, didn't it?" Kalliope recalled when he'd ventured a lot of times with Lirael and not often than twice, Lirael had branches spontaneously strike him until it left scars. He winced remembering.
She opened and closed her hands, "It did. At first I... I was furious. I remembered feeling like that bastard didn't get to show the damage he did to me, so I ordered Silpha to get me this." Cassidy pointed to her red bandana and pulled it down, showing her cut. "It's fading away now, but I feel like I've grown attached to this thing. It's weird."
He blinked, jolting upright when Cassidy waited for him to reply. "That's brave, I'd say. I mean if I got my neck cut, I think I would've died there," Kalliope laughed sheepishly, unsure of what to say. He hadn't remembered Silpha helping anyone before. He rubbed his hands on the sand, licking his chapped lips and tasting salt. "Why'd you go to Silpha?"
Cassidy grabbed a stick and drew circles around the sand, "Well, I got hurt protecting her. She sort of owed me in a way, I guess. Why?"
"Nothing against Silpha, sorry. She's just not so open, you know?" He looked up, "What are you drawing?"
The stick fell down, a strangely shaped figure on the sand. Cassidy pulled at her ponytail and exhaled, her shoulders hurting like they had carried a house. "I don't know."
Kalliope stood up and stretched, offering Cassidy a hand. She shook her head slowly, staring at the sand. The waves nearby crashed loudly on the shore, the smell of salt stronger than ever. Dead fish rose on the sand. He felt his heart pound with anxiety remembering the glow of purple, the clench she had on his heart, and the dripping that never stopped. Wounds reopened.
He shook his head and stopped shaking slightly. Kalliope felt strangely protective, "Sirens might be out there."
She peered at the ocean and nodded, taking his hand. He assumed she was remembering too. "I've been sort of out of it. Think I'm hungover,"
They walked together into a hut they built, "Know those are the worst," Kalliope said, lighting up a torch.