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We all but stumbled through the door, laughing and tripping over our own feet or even each other’s. I could smell the sea on Mipha still, feel the water in my hair and the sand on… well, it felt like every inch of me. It had wriggled between my toes and coated wide swathes of my legs, arms, chest… name a body part, and I guarantee it had grains of sand all over it. Nothing was safe. It never is, when you’re at the beach.
It was worth it, though. It always is. For me, anyway. I don’t know where I was born, but I swear it must’ve been somewhere near the water, because my affinity for it is almost as strong as Mipha’s. And that’s saying something, because she’s a Zora. Water is like air for them. I sometimes wish I had gills and fins too, so I could swim as well as she does, breathe underwater… but then, I’d be a different person, wouldn’t I? I have no idea how our lives would have turned out if I’d been born a Zora. Maybe not knowing is for the best.
In any case, I treasure these days at the shore with her, splashing in the water, running around in the sand, looking for seashells and tiny crabs and whatever other wonders of the sea we can find. I don’t even mind getting a bit of sand in my teeth when we eat the meals we’ve packed for ourselves. It’s all part of the experience, after all, and I love even the annoying parts. We don’t get that many days off like this, not with our lifestyle, and eventually we’ll leave the coast again and head inland. I’ll miss the ocean when we do. Till then, we intend to enjoy every minute of the time we still have here in Lurelin.
Today we’d done just that. We’d risen as early as our bodies would allow us—not an easy thing after a performance night with multiple encores—and gotten everything packed up and ready to go, ordering food to go from the restaurant on the Seafront’s ground floor. By now it was well into the golden hour, the setting sun setting the world outside ablaze with autumnal-hued light glazing everything, but we’d spent several hours at the beach prior to the day beginning its descent into night. We were covered with sand, the sticky remnants of the protective elixir she applies to my skin to avoid sunburns, and who knew what else… but we were happy. Weary, but happy. The best kind of weary, honestly—the kind that comes from a long day spent doing fun things together.
“I will get the shower going.” Mipha pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Will you turn on the lights before following me?”
I nodded, and kissed her forehead. It too had sand on it—what didn’t, at this point?—and it got on my lips, but I didn’t care. Mipha smiled almost sleepily up at me, and headed into the bathroom. I stood and watched her go, my body swaying slightly. That happens sometimes after being at the beach; the echoes of the tides linger on in my bones, and for a while afterwards when I’m standing, or lying in bed, I feel like I’m still at the water’s edge, feeling them rush in and out, in and out, over and over. I didn’t realize it was nearly lulling me to sleep right now until Mipha closed the bathroom door behind herself, startling me into a series of thick, rapid blinks as if I’d started to doze on my feet. Laughing to myself, I headed towards the lamps on either side of the bed and lit them. Our bags had already been left where they wouldn’t get in the way, and we’d deal with them later. Or tomorrow, even. The important part was that we could get to the rest of our clothes once we’d been cleaned off enough to not get sand all over them.
I drew the curtains too, and then followed Mipha into the bathroom. She’d already stripped off her thin, gauzy cover-up and was waiting for me beside a shower stall gushing hot, steamy water. Her eyes caught mine, and we shared a smile; I then let my gaze drift to the nearby tub before going back to her. I gestured at said tub, and mouthed the word. “Bath?”
I meant, of course, for us to enjoy one after showering, as neither one of us would want to soak in waters grimed by the grit clinging to our skin and scales, nor the leftover traces of my elixir; Mipha would understand that immediately if she wasn’t too tired to think straight, as sometimes happens to both of us. She nodded. “Sounds good,” she signed, her hands moving a little sluggishly.
Understanding, I moved closer and opened the shower door for her, taking her hand as she stepped onto the slightly elevated platform. When Mipha gets tired enough, she stops feeling like speaking aloud, and talks to me exclusively in sign. We talk a lot in sign anyway, but I can always tell when she’s too worn out to do anything else. And as much as I love the sound of her voice, I also love it when she signs to me. There’s something… intimate about it. Like we’re even more in our own quiet world, even when we’re alone like this.
I closed the shower door behind us as I entered, and let out a sigh of relief as the water poured down over my body. It’s a strange, contradictory thing: I love the feeling of the salty water and sand on myself, love the familiar smell of the sun-protecting elixir, but it’s also a relief to wash it all off under a good shower like this. The temperature of the water was at that sweet spot, too: wonderfully hot without being too much so. Mipha shook her head, making her tail swing, probably in hopes of shaking some sand off. Laughing to myself, I stepped closer and took up the plumeria-scented soap the hotel had provided for us the last time we’d had housekeeping come through.
Mipha hummed as I lathered up my hands and applied them to her sand-coated tail; probably the most vocalization I’d get out of her till the morning, barring any laughter I somehow pulled from her. We’d stuffed ourselves on fried foods at the boardwalk just before packing up and returning here, so I doubted she’d want to go downstairs and order dinner after all that. Even I didn’t want to, and I’m pretty sure I ate less than she did. Mipha has quite the sweet tooth, so I’d been unsurprised when she’d ordered a second plate of fried dough slathered in chocolate sauce—made from cacao grown and harvested right here in Faron, so you know it’s good—and powdered sugar, and adorned with flaked palm fruit and wildberries imported from the Gerudo Highlands. Even now I could still smell the chocolate on her breath, taste it on her tongue when I leaned in to kiss her.
She sighed into my mouth, her body trembling with weariness or attraction or both. Neither of us had the energy to do anything more than share a kiss or two here and there, but there was no harm in doing just that. And no denying the heat that sprang up inside both our bodies despite our exhaustion. Even now my heart was pounding, from both the heat of the water and the feel of her sleek, soft form pressing close to mine, a familiar stirring awakening in me as we moved against each other.
It quickly fell back asleep, however, when we broke off the kiss and yawned in tandem. Amid the gushing water our eyes met, and laughter concealed by the noise of the shower spilled from our lips. I could just barely hear Mipha’s soft giggle, but my own expelling of breath was lost in the watery din. She ran a finger over my soaked chest again, and then took the soap from me so she could lather her own hands.
The feel of her bubble-laded hands on my body, washing every inch of me, should’ve excited me, banishing my tiredness. Maybe another day, it would have. It didn’t. Instead, I found myself slipping into that same dreamy haze I’d been in just a few minutes ago, standing in the main part of our room almost sleeping on my feet. The grit and film and sweat I’d been coated in sloughed away under her tender, careful ministrations. I sighed. Nayru, it felt so good; if I didn’t know better, I would be tempted to fall asleep right here.
That temptation only grew when she began to wash my hair as well, lathering up my long, salt-soaked locks and massaging my scalp. My eyes drifted shut and my knees turned to jelly, all my senses wanting to just slip into a deep slumber at her touch. It’s too small in here, I reminded myself. Too small and too wet and not soft at all. Wait for the bed.
Paradoxically, the promise of the bed kept me awake and on my feet. When she’d rinsed my hair out, letting free the last of the day’s grime into the drain, I opened my eyes and smiled at her. Mipha smiled sleepily back. I then took the soap from her hands and lathered mine, so that I could wash her body in turn. The sand slid easily off her, and there was no protective elixir to remove, as well as a lack of hair to wash, so she cleaned up more quickly than I had. Almost a shame, as it was tempting to take my time with her and stay in here longer… but the call of the tub and then bed was stronger still.
When we stepped out into the now-steamy bathroom, she looked towards the tub and then back at me. “Do you still want that bath?” she signed, her hands moving more sluggishly than earlier.
I nodded. “Do you?”
“Yes.” She smiled. “I will run the water, then.”
I grabbed a towel to tie up my hair in, watching Mipha as she padded over to the tub, her cute webbed feet making little squelching noises on the floor. She sat on the edge of the tub and turned the knob, the ruby veins in it lighting up as she stoppered the drain. Something about the sight of her red and white scales, sparkling even as they shed rivulets of water from the shower, ignited a thought, a memory, in the recesses of my mind. Seized by it, I turned my back reluctantly on the sight of her piscine beauty and fumbled with a nearby drawer. What I was looking for should be—ah! Yes! There it was! A grin tugging on the corners of my mouth, I seized the small object and turned round again.
The sound of the drawer must have roused Mipha’s attention, for she was now looking curiously at me. For a moment, I couldn’t say anything, so struck was I all over again by the way the waning light pouring through the window, filtered by the lacy curtains, played over her scales and caught in her sunset-colored eyes. How beautiful she was; how much I could drink in her loveliness forever, it sometimes seemed. That mood held me now, and while it lasted we merely stared at one another as the sun drew down outside the hotel we’d made our home in for the past couple weeks.
Then, after what felt like a spellbound eternity, I recalled what was in my hand. Holding it up, I grinned and pointed to the rapidly filling tub. Mipha’s face broke out into an identical grin, and she giggled as she had in the shower, nodding her head emphatically. “Yes!” she signed, still laughing.
By now, the tub had filled itself nearly to the brim; I helped her step in, and she did the same for me. We lowered ourselves into the steaming pool, and Mipha turned off the spigot lest it overflow onto the floor. The combined mass of our two bodies, small though they are, threatened to send the water sloshing out anyway, but by some miracle, it didn’t. Once we were settled, I dropped the object I’d retrieved into the bath.
It fizzed as it fell into the water, the processing of dissolving having begun noisily. Mipha giggled again at the sight of it. How it had stayed intact through everything we’d gone through that night was a minor miracle, even with the aid of the magic-infused pouches we used to carry fragile valuables out of the places we robbed. I wasn’t going to question it, though—I wanted to just enjoy the sight, the experience, of the cucco-shaped bath bomb filling the tub with color and scent.
Mipha nudged me, and I turned my head to look at her. “What do you think it will smell like?” she signed, her eyes traveling to the cucco head already starting to lose its distinctive shape as the hot water overtook it.
I made an exaggerated shrugging motion with my shoulders and arms. “No idea. Hopefully not a barnyard.”
She giggled again, her fingers fumbling a little in her mirth as she kept signing. “Ew! Why on earth would anyone sell a bath additive that smelled so foul as that?”
“You never know.” I shrugged again, grinning. “We’ve seen weirder stuff for sale, remember? Especially in some of those odd little towns.”
Mipha nodded, a knowing look passing over her face. That’s the thing about traveling extensively that no one can really prepare you for: you can find pretty much anything you want and need in a city, and they can be odd in their own ways… but sometimes, it’s the tiny little podunks in the middle of nowhere that are the downright strangest. They believe in yetis up in Hebra, for example, and have whole tourist trap towns centered around their belief that there’s giant, talking, ape-like beings in the snowy mountains. Even businesses that have nothing to do with yetis have been centered around them for no reason I can see beyond cashing in on this niche folk belief. “That is very true.”
“Yeah, remember some of those candies we saw in the shop in that little town in Akkala?” I shuddered exaggeratedly. “And those drinks, too?”
“Oh, how could I forget?” Mipha made a face, twitching her fingers in disgust. “If I recall, some of them were simply normal flavors labeled as gross things to shock people… but others were all too genuine.”
“Wish I could show the Brigade some of those.” My heart twinged with longing for our lost home, our missing friends. “Bazz would love the ‘Worm Ooze’ one.”
“And then he would dare Rivan into drinking the one labeled ‘Vomit’.” Mipha’s mouth curved into an equally wistful smile. “And Rivan would do it.”
“Not before complaining at always being the one roped into it.” I rubbed my thumb over one of her shoulder fins in an attempt to soothe us both. “I… I hope we’ll someday get to show them that stuff.”
Mipha is more pessimistic than I am about the chances of all our friends surviving, and I can’t blame her. We’ve argued about it before, and agreed to just disagree. I could see a flicker of that sorrow, that resignation to having lost everyone—or almost everyone—in her eyes now, but she spoke none of it. “I do too. In the meantime…”
Her eyes went back to the bath bomb, and I followed her gaze with mine. It was nearly dissolved by now, its familiar shape distorted as it melted, forming shimmery suds in stripes of white, yellow, and red, that mimicked that familiar comb atop a cucco’s head. The scent, I realized belatedly, now hung thick in the air; I sniffed. The threat of an unpleasant odor had been real, I supposed, but to my gratitude hadn’t been fulfilled. Instead, I smelled… palm fruit? And vanilla? It was rich and lush and tropical, and felt like it contained the very essence of Lurelin. Beside me, Mipha breathed deeply too, and we exhaled in unison, the sound brimming with utter contentment.
She snuggled closer to me then, and I welcomed her into my arms. I breathed in the rich fragrance of the cucco bath bomb, of her scales, as we embraced. Stroking her tail, I reveled in the sound of her releases of air, how soothed and sleepy she sounded. Mipha curled up against my chest, nestling herself against my body in the warm, scented water; bubbles obscured my view of us under the surface. By now, though, I knew every inch of her as well as I knew myself. Every scale, every fin, the curve of her tail and her hips and the webbing between her fingers, her toes. All of it had been laid bare to me more times than I could possibly count, and through that revisiting of her I had memorized all the beautiful details.
She’s done the same with me. We can find each other, find each other’s sweet spots, in the dark as well as in the light. I much prefer the light, though—it lets us see each other. Lets her see my face when she makes me feel that ecstasy, that otherwise would come in silence. That knowledge of each other, so deep and intimate, is both comfort and excitement at times. Often both.
Right now, though, I felt nothing but comforted. Content to merely hold her, to stroke her soft, supple tail, to feel her hands on my skin, the water enveloping both of us. Scented steam rose, filling the darkening room with the aroma of palm fruit and vanilla. It made me think of the fried dough we’d eaten, and even though my stomach was full, I found myself wishing I had the energy to go buy just one more. Tomorrow, I told myself drowsily. Tomorrow. Maybe even for breakfast.
The sky had gone blue again by the time we reluctantly rose from the tub, me pulling the stopper out while Mipha swayed slightly and rubbed her eyes, another yawn breaking free from her lips. It wasn’t the pale, clear blue of midday, though; rather, it was the deep indigo of nightfall. The eastern horizon, having been purpled by the sunset earlier while the conflagration of scarlet and gold lit up the west, had given itself over to the deeper hue. The bathroom window showed us slivers of that western sky, but the one in the bedroom displayed the nearly cloudless sapphire expanse that dripped down into a darkening ocean.
Too tired to dress, we dried ourselves off and shrugged on robes before padding back into our warmly lit bedroom. A rush of gratitude for Mipha’s foresight in asking me to turn on the lamps welled up in me; so did another yawn. This one was bigger than the others, and I caught Mipha smiling as it subsided. She had a towel in her hands, and gestured at me to sit down on the edge of the bed. I smiled back and obeyed.
She dropped onto the bed with me, scooting so close that our knees bumped. Letting out a yawn that might’ve been even bigger than mine, she then began to use the towel that she’d warmed with her magic to gently dry my hair the rest of the way. She combed it too, and worked through some balm we’d bought here in town. It smelled of lavender, my favorite, and served to make me even sleepier somehow. Or maybe that was just the effect of Mipha’s hands in my hair. Either way, I was dangerously close to falling over on the bed again and just not waking up for a while.
I didn’t, though. I somehow stayed awake long enough for her to braid my hair. Once she was done, she staggered back to the bathroom to wash her hands. My eyes started falling again as I listened to the running water, and I jerked back awake as she came back in, bringing with her another palm fruit and vanilla scented cloud. That was a nice bath bomb, I found myself thinking drowsily. We should buy some more to take with us before we leave. See who carries cucco-shaped ones next time we go out.
I meant to say that to her, but by that point my hands felt so heavy I could barely sign. I gestured to the bed, and made what looked roughly like the sign for the word ‘sleep’. Mipha nodded, smoothing my bangs and kissing my forehead. I pressed my face to her collarbone as she held me, breathing her in; her robe had opened, affording me a view of her gills as air seeped out. Pretty, I thought dimly. It was one of the last coherent thoughts I had as I moved in a blur to strip off the robe and climb under the soft, clean linen sheets. All I would remember, later, was the darkness settling around me as Mipha turned the lights off and settled into my arms again. As I drifted off, it seemed to me that I could still feel the tides around my ankles, and I smiled, my mind filled with images of Mipha and myself, ensconced happily in the waves as a cucco-shaped bath bomb drifted, inexplicably, beside us.