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"Fuck, why can I swim?" Rafayel surfaced, hoping that his voice might be some comfort while you choked for air in his arms. Your body was limp, heavy. The long dress certainly didn't help.
There was probably water in your ears, but lungs were more important right now. He needed to find some piece of debris you could lie down on, or maybe he could get you to spit the seawater out right here, right now.
"It would help if this were more of a team effort, you know." He was trying to provoke you, to get under your skin.
There was no response.
Not from words or insults or his palm smacking firm against your back.
Had it been too long? You hit the water at practically the same time. Though it took a while for Rafayel to find you, after swimming away from the debris that had pinned him down, even more fragments of ship and personal treasures and other passengers that he wasn't here to save. He needed you.
How you could sink so far so fast, or how he managed to catch up, and swim back to the surface without feeling out of breath… It must be adrenaline. Didn't you have that? Or some instinct for how to swim? After all, your prophetic dreams knew there would be an iceberg. A shipwreck stranded all the way out here…
He said that it wasn't your fault. And it wasn't. You did your part, and that hadn't been enough. Should have gotten more people to keep watch. Or… He was too distracted. Enjoyed keeping you warm that night in the Crow's nest too much. Why did either of you think there would only be one iceberg? God, it was so big. This should have been avoided easily.
Your hair hung down like heavy curtains, the necklace you loved so much caught on the strap of your dress and barely hanging on. He knew it was over. But still, he had to try, until the ocean took him.
Everything grew hazy after that. Your short time together flashing by. Maybe this was just another one of those dreams. Maybe he would wake up in a better one. Maybe you would have more time together. Maybe you really would meet the god of the sea, and earn his favor. Or stay far, far away from it.
As the stars began to fade, his body gave in. And yours became an anchor. So it was finally over, your bodies frozen, intertwined. Blocks of ice that would someday become snow on the ocean floor.
"Hey, cutie," someone leaned down to tap on your skull. "Is anyone awake in there?"
You blinked, taking in a pale face framed in touseled purple hair. The golden sunset was only a candle next to the colors in his eyes. Who was he?
"Come on! I saved the best spot." He held out a hand, and you took it. He seemed to know you. You didn't seem to know anything.
But it was like that, wasn't it? You had a feeling at least that bad memory followed you everywhere. Best to just go along with it. Plus…If you were honest, he was really cute.
"Alright, I want you to stand, riiight… here." With hands on your waist he guided your feet, then stood behind you against the railing.
The drop down to the sea below had you flinch back.
He laughed, "Don't tell me you're afraid of heights now. I won't buy that."
"Not heights," you pondered. "It's… the ocean. It's so close."
He snorted, "Yeah, sure," and laced his fingers behind yours. Raised arms together into a T-pose, the wind at your faces, the sky above, the sea below… It felt oddly like floating. And this man was your anchor. Or life jacket.
You didn't want to leave his side after that, feeling like all that kept you on deck was his body glued against yours. And he seemed to know you pretty well. Had memories that you didn't share, and always chose something good from the menu when you couldn't decide what to eat.
It didn't make sense. You invited him along to fancy dinners that a man of his status could never just walk into. So how did he know the food so well? Maybe he actually was a famous painter, and only pretending to be nameless to save the headache of being recognized.
He matched your posture, face squished on his fist. "Your table manners are terrible, miss. I'm having fun."
You sat up straighter and rolled your eyes, "So why don't you teach me then?"
"Oh, really? You want a dining lesson from little old me? Alright then. So the silverware comes out set like this. You always start from the outside, working inwards. And elbows off the table, if you're seated near anyone old or cranky. Saves the trouble—"
"Sounds boring. I'll change my mind."
"Good. Now hand over tonight's spoils of gold leaf."
"Show me what you've done with the rest of it first."
He groaned a little, thinking it over. "Alright." And he led you down to a lower deck, where the cheapest arrangements were. It was more crowded than you were expecting, for such a lofty ship.
"In here," he led you through a tiny door. Your dress hardly fit.
And the room itself hardly fit anything at all. In order to be a studio, all the furniture was pushed into one corner. Half the dresser drawers wouldn't even open in that position.
This guy was probably saving up all the gold leaf to sell later. It was a good plan, and you didn't see the appeal of eating it, so what's the harm?
"Never mind. I don't want to show you."
"What?" betrayal flashed on your face, glaring at him for a second, then diverting your gaze to the window.
Something about them being circular just felt… futuristic. This great mass of technology and the oceanscape so beautiful, even in the smallest of rooms. The view was more like an art piece, contained within its frame. This was how you liked it the best.
"Ugh, fine," he grabbed a canvas off the easel. "But it's not finished yet. So don't judge too hard."
Your face began to heat up, thinking he'd painted you naked. So you glanced around the room again, noticing a stack of odd junk. Shells from dinner that you hadn't noticed him stealing. They were very clean, and some half-beaten into a fine powder. How was he doing that?
Curiosity got the best of you, turning back to face the canvas. It was just a painting of the ocean. But you could almost see a golden city beneath it glittering and waving like a mirage.
"How the fuck are you doing that?" you squinted, trying to make sense of it.
Rafayel smirked, "Now hand over the gold leaf."
There was absolutely no better use for gold in this world. You couldn't believe it was being wasted tastelessly on stomachs.
"I knew it," you huffed, placing the leftovers in his palm. "You really are a world-famous artist in disguise."
Rafayel tilted his head with a warm smile. "Duh, of course I am cutie. But isn't it fun to stay in character? And we had such a good streak going, too."
The smile on your face faltered. Brows twitched, a look of utter confusion.
"Oh, no. Don't tell me… I've been alone this whole time?"
"Have you eaten something bad?" You felt his face, like he did in your first memory. Gentle, like the sunset. The backs of your fingers on his forehead, then down along the sides.
"Well, I hope not, cause we ate off the same plate. Do you feel alright?"
You shrugged. "Fine, I guess." He wasn't burning up. Not yet at least.
The truth was that your disorientation wasn't the temporary kind, set on by waking up from a nap. It was some kind of serious amnesia. And you couldn't run from that realization forever, even if this voyage was a sort of vacation. You didn't even know what waited at the destination.
"Rafayel… Did we board this ship together?"
"Nope."
You frowned. So you both came here alone?
He drew back the covers on a rather small bed. "You should lie down. I can either join you, or work on this painting."
"Join me." You kicked off your shoes and the heavy dress, leaving just a slip on underneath before crawling in. Maybe you should ask for a portrait. The gossamer fabric was certainly within his range.
Rafayel was already on the far side, the one closest to the ocean. Like he remembered your fear. Well, you did tell him. And now his fingers running through your hair, head on his chest, it felt like the most natural thing. Like it had been done a thousand times before.
"Was I… running from someone?" The jewelry you wore seemed illustrious. Like a life savings, a desperation to flee.
"Hmm, yeah. A bad man. You were supposed to get engaged with him… Or maybe you were. Can't remember," he yawned. "Buuut he isn't your problem anymore, cutie."
"Did he make me forget?" you stared out to the sky, fading into pink clouds over dark purple as the sun took its leave. Without a lit sky, this room would soon feel like a closet. It practically was.
"You're safe now." Rafayel held you a little tighter and drifted off to sleep.
You woke up to a harsh realization that soundproof walls were a luxury. It would have been better for this sleepover to relocate to your cabin. Rubbing bleary eyes, you groaned and shook Rafayel's shoulder. Or maybe you should leave a note, and not interrupt his sleep?
Either way, you smoothed the wrinkles out of your dress and put it back on. Then your shoes.
"You're leaving me?" he mumbled, stirring until his eyes snapped open.
"How can you sleep here? It's so noisy."
Rafayel grabbed his own jacket, but placed it on your shoulders instead. "The ship is sinking."
You blinked, "What?"
"We'll be fine. I promise. But just so you know, the ship has to be abandoned." So matter-of-fact, so calm, so certain. This wasn't Rafayel. He wasn't joking.
And you stumbled into him, the room tilted at an odd angle. Your heart dropped, knowing that he was right. So you reached for his canvas as it slipped from the easel. Paint was dry. Thank god you didn't let him work on it.
"Come on," Rafayel put an arm around your shoulders and guided through the crowd. There were life boats. It would be okay. The halls were so crowded, and so noisy. And so far below deck.
"You're not wearing any shoes. Or a jacket," you realized, looking down as you carefully stuffed the canvas into a convenient breast pocket. They were probably made specifically for this. He'd probably sewn it himself.
"Don't need them." There was an unusual focus in his voice. You glanced back and caught it in his eyes. Eerie. Dread began to drip into your heart.
Rafayel was aloof and dismissive and sometimes in a flow state. But this wasn't artistic expression. It felt like he was malfunctioning.
Or maybe it was you who was broken. The floor opened up, a chasm growing across the hallway. You wouldn't make it to those life boats.
"Do you trust me?"
"Yeah but not when you say that, now I'm suspicious, and a little scared."
He laughed, but it fell flat. "Scared of me? We've got bigger problems to deal with. Just hang on."
You closed your eyes, tightly gripping Rafayel as he descended further. At least it was quieter there, in the gap between ship and ship. But it was unsettling on your eyes. Opening up to crumbled kitchens and cabins, ballrooms, all lit by flickering lights and…
"What's this?"
Your knees were denting with something engraved. It almost felt like decorative flooring. But the ocean floor was many, many meters below. This was better. As long as it didn't capsize.
But Rafayel was in the water. You should be together. So close, but that could not feel good… At least his jacket was mostly dry. But your own was unlikely to be seen again. What the fuck were you supposed to do? Could he fit if you made yourself small enough in the center?
It was hard to think. Instinctively, you touched the canvas. His sunset wasn't finished yet. That had to be a sign, right? This wasn't the end. An S.O.S. call would be answered…
He could give you the ability to breathe underwater. That would be easy — in fact, you probably still had it. Just couldn't remember. You were always like that.
"It'll be fine," Rafayel nodded toward the sun's dying path. "Lemuria isn't far. We can make it!"
You shook your head, clinging to the wooden door of some furniture. "It's cold."
Rafayel sighed, "It'll be warmer when we get there. Come on." He grabbed the edge of your flotation device and started swimming. The sinking ship erect in the sky, and crushed life boats and ice bergs and extras behind him. And so was this incessant chattering, in your teeth.
"You're still cold above the water. It'll be faster if you join me."
You refused, dipping your bare feet further into the dress, curling up in a ball as if it were a giant bedsheet instead of clothing. "I can't swim, Rafayel. And besides… Your canvas." It was tucked away against your chest.
"I can paint other things, you know. Besides, I doubt that one is real. It can't come home with us."
He wasn't making sense. You still didn't remember that you were sat next to him in a movie theater, with salted popcorn in your mouth, not a taste of seawater. That's okay, you could cling to this illision a while longer. With a flick of his fingers, he'd… Where was the flame? No beating heart, no fire, no warmth. Actually… There was no evol at all here.
"Frick!" Rafayel wiped his hand on his collar, then began to swim faster. Idly paddling along was no good. He'd put all his energy into getting you to warmer waters safely. Then you could rest or cry over his painting or whatever. Probably would just wake up in the next few seconds, though.
There were no longer any lights in the distance besides stars. Constellations and cold winds were his only companions. Marine life was beginning to find him again, but when he asked about Lemuria, they acted like they didn't understand him. And the water wasn't warmer at all. Maybe a few degrees, but it still wasn't safe for humans. And his legs never turned into a tail. And…
Rafayel let go, treading water to turn and face you. The truth would have to come out. That all of this was just a bad dream cast by some wonky evol projector. Well, most of it was a good dream. You'd be laughing about it soon enough.
He sighed, deciding to say whatever words first came to mind. It wasn't that serious.
Ice coated your eyelashes. But you weren't blinking it away or complaining like usual.
"Hey," he spoke softly, drying his fingers on his own hair since there was no fire. "I'll get that for you."
There was no flinch. Your body swapped out with a mannequin's. It had to be. He wasn't paying that much attention. The set design here was immaculate.
"Hey!" he slapped the side of your face twice, gentle. Then again, panicked.
"No," his brows furrowed, taking your cold hands, trying to warm them up. But all he could offer was his own body heat, which wasn't much. And your digits felt like they might just break off if he was the slightest bit too rough.
"You can curse me out now, you know," he forced a joke for the last time. And then it broke. Heartbreak flooded into those gorgeous twilight eyes.
"Where is the sun? Where is the fucking sun when I need it??" he shook your shoulders, then put a hand behind your head to gently lay your body down. At least the wood was carved beautifully. You deserved that much from an open coffin.
Rafayel took shaky breaths, resting his arms on the door, laying his head down to watch your face. He'd be there when you woke up from this dream. He'd comfort you after knowing what it felt like to die. And tell you that you would never be cold again.
Time felt endless. He supposed that was the grief. Then a warmth began to grow and he realized why you stopped complaining. It felt good after a while. Perfectly content to stay just where he was. You could die together. He was fine with that. He'd be able to relate to you once the movie was over.
Thin layers of ice glazed over your vacant bodies. They glistened in the moonlight, like works of art. And when the sunrise came it might melt away.