Blood of the Sea, Chapter Eight

Chapter 8: Endearment

Astrophel

The firm ground transitions to the squishier clay of the beach and Astrophel scans automatically for Ryju’s silver body near Iska’s dappled hide. His ‘urga’s mate is nowhere to be seen and though he is disappointed, he knows it hurts Dionne as her arm brushes closer against his and he catches the sound of her sigh. “He’ll show.”

“I know,” Dionne whispers, her jaw working in a way Astrophel knows means she is warding off tears. He brings her closer, kissing her temple and inhaling the way she smells under the saltwater clinging to her hair. She smells like home to him.

“I’ve got you.”

“You’re tired,” she murmurs, “I’m supposed to ‘have’ you right now.”

“I’ve still got you.” He kisses her head again, leading her toward Iska. The ‘urga’s nostrils puff as her side heaves with a deep exhale and she rolls upright, clay rub marks sticking in the fur on the side she was laying on. Iska shakes her head and the muscles in her neck stand out as the ripple travels down her body. Snorting, she pulls herself onto her flippers and sways from side to side as she slips along the clay back toward the water. Astrophel and Dionne catch up to her where the surf shurrrrrs around their ankles. Astrophel climbs on, settling behind Iska’s shoulders before offering an arm for Dionne to grab as she climbs up onto the ‘urga behind him.

Sulien and Ender dive under the water and Dionne wraps her arms around Astrophel’s waist before Iska barks, the sound sharp but warm, as Astrophel knows from experience. The rumbly not-quite-purr which follows causes Dionne to slide back off the ‘urga with excitement, splashing deeper into the water, throwing her arms around the silver ‘urga which surfaces in Ender’s place. Dark flippers lead into the water, a scar slashes across the muzzle, and the ‘urga tucks his head against Dionne’s back as she hugs him tightly. Ryju. Iska scoots closer, the deeper water dampening Astrophel’s pant legs, making them stick to his skin once more as his ‘urga butts her nose against Ryju’s, exchanging smells and stories before she bites affectionately along his neck. A squeaking bark makes Astrophel smile and close his eyes, thanking the gods before he opens his eyes, immediately finding Iska’s pup. Steel grey fur, a little darker from the water, leads down to leopard-spotted flippers. Scenting the air, they are curious, but the obvious affection from their parents puts them at ease.

“Ryju, you brought your pup,” Dionne’s voice is soft with wonder as she holds her hand out for the young ‘urga. Scenting her, the pup flicks their tail, moving closer and putting their soft muzzle in her hand. Astrophel imagines he can see Dionne’s heart melt as she stands there, waist deep, with their new pup.

“You should name them,” he tells her.

“Iska bore this pup. You should name them. It’s tradition.”

Astrophel leans over Iska’s shoulder after contemplating. “Pyxis, here.” The young ‘urga raises their head at his voice, glancing at Iska for reassurance. Iska lowers her muzzle to bump against the pup’s side, giving a little nudge, and the pup swims over to boop their muzzle against Astrophel’s palm as well. It helps I’m smothered in Iska’s scent. “That’s it Pyxis. Good job.”

“Pyxis? How cute.” Dionne leans into Ryju’s shoulder as her ‘urga huffs, resting his large head atop hers playfully.

“I think it fits. They will grow up to be powerful like their parents,” Astrophel reasons. “May as well give them a good name.”

Pyxis swims around their parents with Astrophel and Dionne watching affectionately. The pup was a good sign; the ‘urgas were healthy and Iska and Ryju had bonded strongly. Astrophel glances at Dionne, only to find her already watching him. ‘Urga bonds usually occur before or after the bonding between their E’len. Astrophel knew this. Dionne knew this. And here before them was a pup, already as long nose to tail as Astrophel stood tall. The expectation was there, whether or not they acted on it.

Astrophel breaks the moment first, shifting on Iska’s back so as to be closer to the laying-seat he would need in the water. Dionne smiles a small smile and climbs aboard Ryju, patting his neck affectionately as the silver ‘urga turns oceanward. Pyxis surges forward, butting their head against Ryju’s side as the bigger ‘urga dips underwater, heading for the sea tunnel. Astrophel nudges Iska and she scoots deeper into the water, the tide lapping up around Astrophel’s hips and then higher on toward his shoulders before he sucks in a breath of air and Iska dives under, following after her mate and pup.

~

With Pyxis in tow, Ryju and Iska travel at a slower pace than the one Iska took getting to Caladija. The ‘urgas, with great affection for Pyxis, take turns nudging them up to the surface for a breath, their muzzles riding under Pyxis’ belly before diving under again, E’len in tow.

Throughout the ride, Astrophel and Dionne exchange smiles and fleeting glances as Ryju and Iska dance around one another in the water, happy to be reunited after the long and busy morning apart.

Surfacing as they arrive at Asos’ shores, Lleida and Qora are sunning themselves on the exposed rock, reassuring Astrophel that Nox made the trip. Ender’s soft grey-white hide shines in the shallows as the male ‘urga rolls, splashing water as his flippers wave through the air. Sulien stands outside on the sand, hands folded behind his back as Iska and Ryju waddle up onto the beach. Iska turns her head back to blow air at Pyxis, who hangs back in the gentle surf. Astrophel slides free of her back and pats her neck, pushing his mount back toward the pup. Iska gives him a warm look and gallops back into the water, the wave cresting over the ridge on her back as she pulls Pyxis deeper once more. Ryju’s attention remains fixed on his mate but gives Dionne an affectionate headbutt when she dismounts. Astrophel offers his hand to Dionne as she tucks stray hair behind her ear. The offer makes her smile, her eyes soft as they meet his, and she takes his hand as they walk to meet Sulien.

The tower of Asos slants toward the beach as though investigating the newcomers itself. The sun beats down on the rough hewn stone, shrinking it from its original girth as the noon sun makes its shadow hide rather than luxuriate in one long stretch along the beach. The sand sinks under Astrophel’s feet, fatigue pulling at him, now that he has reached his destination, almost as much as the water shuuuuuring around his ankles. Little bits of shells and time smoothed pebbles wash up on the beach before being furtively ushered back into the shallows by the waves.

Sulien claps Astrophel on the shoulder, taking up residence on his other side as Astrophel gestures for Dionne to ascend the dipped stairs ahead of him. “A pup. You two are fortunate.”

“She knew it would come this season,” Astrophel remarks, his heart warm in his chest as he follows after Dionne.

“Yes, but the bond is forged now. You have proof. Astrophel…” Sulien catches Astrophel’s arm, making him turn to face his redheaded friend. “You know how these things work.”

“Just because Iska and Ryju gave us a pup doesn’t mean…” Astrophel drops his voice, “I won’t push her.”

“You know how she looks at you.”

“Sul, leave it.”

“I’ll leave it when you have a pup of your own,” he grins, wiggling his eyebrows. “You know I’m right.”

Astrophel sighs and turns back to the stairs, “We’re still young, Sul.”

“It’ll happen.”

Khalil, Sulien, and Nox head out after sitting with Astrophel and Dionne for an hour. The five of them cracking jokes, reviewing the events of the selection, cheering Nox on their new ‘urga, enjoying each other’s company, and taking the time to decompress after the shoal. When the others leave - Khalil and Nox wishing Astrophel well, and Sulien smiling around a comment about him resting - Dionne spreads out the blanket Nox brought, shedding the waterproof bag they brought it in, and adjusting the material so the midafternoon sun warms into the chosen nap spot. Patting the blanket, Dionne stands up as Astrophel sits down, but he catches her wrist before she can move away.

“Sit with me.”

“You should rest. The mental plane is taxing…”

“Dio, sit with me. Please?”

Dionne sighs and rolls her eyes, but the smile softening her features, and the way she sits so that their knees are touching tells Astrophel she is pleased. Astrophel shifts to lay propped on his forearm, picking up a corner of the blanket and wrapping it around his back, holding it open for her to lie with him.

“You need to rest, Ast.” Dionne puts her hand on his raised arm.

“I’d rest better knowing you were with me.”

Dionne smiles, the expression reaching up and touching her eyes as they sparkle. “You can rest without me.”

“Suit yourself. The sunshine will be awfully comfy though.” Astrophel teases, closing the blanket, “You’re missing out.”

Dionne considers him before she leans forward and kisses his head, standing up and crossing to the map table, “Rest. You still owe me that sword.”

When Astrophel wakes, it is to the realization that the sun is no longer warming his face. Blinking open his eyes, the melting darkness of dusk greets him, shadowing the inner room of Asos in the murky grays of early night. Rolling over, a bit stiff as he moves from where he was laying on the floor, candlelight greets him, haloing Dionne as she sits cross legged in a spare chair, nose buried in a book.

Voice raspy with sleep, Astrophel asks, “What’s that?”

“A journal from Asos’ raiding years,” Dionne’s eyes flick to him, her brows furrowed slightly from concentrating. “How’d you sleep?”

“Fine, fine.” Astrophel stretches, working his shoulder. Getting to his feet, the hide-blanket drops away, leaving him to the startling cold of the room. Shaking himself, he crosses to Dionne, glancing at the text as she angles it for him.

“It speaks of people south of us.”

“South. That’s Tiberius’ reef…”

“No, south. A ship’s voyage beyond the islands. Beyond the boundaries of Magellani.” Dionne points to a line in the scrawled handwriting, “It talks of what the author refers to as ‘people of the wing’. A lot of the rest of it I can’t make out - the dialect has changed over time - but a couple parts are clear. There’s more out there, Ast.”

Astrophel folds his arms, warding off the chill trying to take away his body heat. “A ships’ voyage? They aren’t talking about the boats we have now, are they.” He phrases it rhetorically, but Dionne still shakes her head.

“I gathered that the ships they’re talking about can hold people and provisions for at least a fortnight.”

Astrophel rubs a hand over his face, “I’m not awake enough for this.”

Dionne laughs, “You were pretty out of it.” She cups his cheek in her palm. “We can talk about this more later.” Moving from the chair, she grabs the waterproof bag Nox brought the blanket in, stuffing the material back inside, and slipping the book in as well, before drawing the bag closed. Swinging the strap over her shoulder, she extinguishes the candle and grabs Astrophel’s hand, “Ready to show me this sword I’m getting?”

Moving through the darkened room, they descend the stairs, hand in hand, and hit the beach. Dionne brings a hand to her mouth, whistling. Astrophel stands quietly with her as they wait. It isn’t too long, as the surf crashes and breaks against the shore with the shifting night tide, before the waves erupt with first Ryju’s head, fin cresting above the water as he shakes his head, water flying off of him. Pushing through the froth of the ocean, he turns his back to the E’len, slapping a flipper in the water expectantly. Iska’s head crests out of the water as well, as the next wave breaks. Pyxis’ smaller head popping up beside their dam. Dionne pulls Astrophel with her towards Ryju’s fish-silver form, swinging her leg over his back and waiting for Astrophel as he joins her. When they are both settled Dionne kisses at Ryju who rears up on his tail, leaping into the water and lashing his tail as he dives under, body torquing as the ‘urga turns toward Astrophel’s home island of Gytheio.

~

Surfacing by the breakwater, Ryju snorts, sides puffing with the breath of fresh air. Beside him, Iska surges out of the water, landing on the breakwater itself, rocking the barrier with the force of her body. Pyxis chirps from the water, protesting the actions of their dam - being too small to know the trick to getting up there. Iska chirps back, diving into the water on the opposite side with hardly a splash. Dionne turns Ryju away from the longhouse, skirting around the shore. “Where to?”

“The forge. Riven should be done by now.”

Dionne twists to peer back at him over her shoulder, “How long have you been planning for this?”

Astrophel kisses her shoulder, a smile playing across his face, “Ryju, go.” The ‘urga snorts but since Dionne doesn’t protest, he moves forward, chest pushing aside the water as they weave towards the stretch of rock which backs up to the blacksmith’s forge. Ryju slides the upper half of his body onto the stone, waiting for the tide-riders to dismount, before slipping backwards into the water, head bobbing to watch Dionne for a moment longer as she raises a hand for her ‘urga before he sinks underwater once more.

Climbing up the stairs carved into the rock, Astrophel leads the way, rounding the open air forge, careful not to touch anything as his eyes scan over the quiet hearth. Tools lay organized along the one wall of the forge, made out of stone, which leans up against Riven’s house. Fireproofed, their house is a mix of stone and carefully treated wood. Water buckets line the back wall leading to the door, the long vertical handle covered in black hand prints from years of work. Astrophel inhales, the abundance of metal and stone filling his nose, as well as grease and ash, and the ever present salt of the ocean drumming at his back. Knocking on the door, he folds his hands, skin prickling with a sort of excitement. He glances at Dionne, seeing her hand come up to fidget with a damp lock of hair.

He smiles, “Excited?”

“Nervous?” Dionne laughs. “It’s one thing to imagine it, it’s another to know it’s on the other side of this door.”

“I think…”

“Shouldn’t be nervous. Our prince knows how to treat a lady.” Riven’s voice greets them as they swings open the door. Hair pulled back in a single plait, a smear of oil across their cheek betrays their otherwise groomed appearance. “Custom orders are special, but this…” Riven trails off, a happy-go-lucky smirk gracing their features, “Come in then. I shant spoil it.”

Dionne raises an eyebrow at Astrophel and walks into the house, Astrophel trailing after her, clasping Riven’s forearm and thanking them quietly.

“You haven’t even seen it yet, my prince.” Riven smiles knowingly, a sparkle of mischief in their eyes.

“No, but I’ve seen your work time and time again.” Astrophel claps them on the shoulder and chases after Dionne. Spinning her around, he beats her to the door to the presentation room. Backing up, he pushes the door open and takes her shoulders in his hands. They walk into the room like that, her hands coming to rest on his forearms, just holding onto him, and the door closes behind her.

Focused on Dionne, Astrophel ignores much of the room, but he knows it’s a small room with cases lining the walls for various weapons, blades, bows, or other projects Riven has on display from prior orders, or completed pieces yet to be picked up. The floor is wood throughout the house, though it is often covered with a layer of sand or dirt from Riven tracking it in. This room, however, is free of that. Riven keeps this room clean as a point of pride. There’s one window on the wall to Astrophel’s left which would normally let in the daylight, but right now, the light of Thrys, the smallest of the three moons, is glowing through the glass pane instead. The room isn’t dark, however, considering Riven knew they were coming. Candles are set up in the corners of the room, and behind him on the table carved out of a single slab of stone – the centerpiece of the room.

Astrophel stops close to the table and caresses Dionne’s cheek, looking into her eyes as she searches his, excitement leashed in her posture as she refrains from peeking around him at the table dominating the center of the room. Smiling softly, Astrophel leans in, his mouth almost brushing against hers as he says, “Close your eyes.”

Dionne’s eyes flutter shut, her lips parted on a voiceless gasp as Astrophel turns to the table behind him. The greatsword lies next to its sheath, the leather inlaid with designs patterned similarly to the ink he would imagine might decorate Dionne’s skin some day, speaking of victories and happiness. Days full of the crash and pull of the water. A life lived alongside the ‘urgas they tend to. It’s a beautiful work, but the sword makes all that pale in comparison. Gleaming in the light let through the shutters, the sword has a rope like crossguard, an anchor carved into the pommel, the grip covered in bone with grooves fit just right for her hands. The metal of the sword is a beautiful swirling mix of black and a dark grey, the layers of metal interwoven and folded over on itself many many many times. Astrophel’s smile grows, fingers hovering over the blade. He sharpened it himself, the whetstone and rag still sitting in his room. Carefully, he picks it up, the heft of it a reassurance of its make. He turns, finding Dionne watching him, a sunset pink staining her cheekbones when she meets his eyes, but when her gaze falls upon the sword in his hands, her mouth drops open and she takes the last step toward him, reaching for it with reverence. She meets his gaze once more. “The sword…”

“It’s yours.” Astrophel swallows around the lump in his throat as he watches her. Her hair draping around her face in loose waves, pulled tight in braids on one side of her head, the length of it spilling over her shoulders and down her back. Her eyes shine with happiness, the corner crinkling, but there’s something else too. Something that doesn’t allow him to look away. But he wouldn’t even if he could.

“Ast…” she breathes, “put the sword down.”

Breaking their eye contact to put the blade back on the table, he barely turns back to her before her fingers are winding their way into his hair, tugging his face to hers, their mouths meeting in the middle as his hands find her hips and pull her closer, their bodies line up from knee to chest and he kisses her with everything he has. Her kisses in turn demand more from him, tongue exploring his mouth as they both gasp for air and devour one another. His fingers may leave bruises, her teeth marking his lip, her hands telling him closer, closer. The press of their mouths moves from hungry to playful as Astrophel kisses along Dionne’s jaw, planting a kiss under her ear as she breathlessly giggles, before kissing her again, their lips soft but firm against one another. Each breath full of the smell of her, wild like the ocean but warm like home, drives him wild, his heart pounding in his chest as he dips her, her hands still tangled in his hair.

The door at the other end of the room creaks open like an apology, followed by a burst of laughter which forces Dionne to break from the kiss, hanging as she is above the floor in Astrophel’s arms. Astrophel ignores the intruder for a moment longer, kissing Dionne’s neck again and again, a smile in the kisses as Dionne pants out, “Ast… Ast.” Her hands tighten almost enough to make his eyes water as she tugs on his hair, but he pulls her back up into his chest and brushes his nose against hers before looking up to see Riven, a broad grin stretched over their face as their laughter dies down.

“I see the sword was well received.”

Dionne runs a hand over her braids self-consciously even as Astrophel keeps her in a hug, her back to his chest. “Yes, Riven. Thank you for your masterful work.”

Riven bows, a fist over their chest. “You both honor me. You have a beautiful bond and it must be celebrated.”

Dionne goes still in Astrophel’s arms and he kisses her temple, addressing Riven again, “Thank you. I’m afraid we’ve kept you late.”

“Oh, not at all, my prince. Your presence is a gift in my home.”

Dionne pulls out of Astrophel’s grasp, sheathing the sword and cradling it in her arms. Her eyes are soft when she mouths thank you to Astrophel and, out loud, says “Thank you, master blacksmith. This is truly a gift.”

Riven bows again, “My lady.”

Astrophel leads the way to the front door, Dionne on his heels up to the point where the night air greets them as the door swings shut behind. Astrophel takes Dionne’s hand in both of his and looks her in the eye, “You do like it, yes?”

“The sword? It’s incredible. Caleo steel is always so elegant.”

“Beautiful and utilitarian. Sharp, graceful,” Astrophel smiles, “Like you.”

“Utilitarian?” Dionne’s face mimics a taunting sort of laughter, the sound catching just shy of the air in her throat, “How boring I must be.”

“Far from it.” Astrophel tucks some of her salt-water-wet hair behind her ear, brushing his fingers lightly over her cheek, “You are miraculous. Hard working, not utilitarian. A piece of art. The strength you wield casts a wide net of awe upon those gifted enough to see you swing.”

Dionne shifts her grip on the greatsword, letting that hand hang by her side as she pulls her other hand out from between his and fists the front of his shirt, pulling him in as her lips crash against his, the ocean roaring in their ears. Astrophel’s free hand finds the small of her back, pressing her into his chest, welcoming the sensations rocketing through him from where they touch as he kisses her back, meeting her fervor. The night air blows cold against their wet clothing, prickling against Astrophel’s skin, making the two of them blush under the wind’s lashes, yet the warmth they find in the connection of their mouths, their hands holding each other close, casts a spell on them which the elements dare not break.

Coming up for air from Dionne’s demanding kisses feels like a loss, though it makes him realize that they are still outside. Still cold. Still dripping wet - their clothes crusting along the creases and folds which hang long down their frames. Dionne’s dark hair has started to crystalize and Astrophel can only assume the same can be said of his own. In the light of the moons, Astrophel can’t imagine a more beautiful sight than Dionne, blushing, mouth parted, lips slightly puffier than normal, eyes glossy with want, hair absolutely wild from the swim and the kisses. The silvery moonlight highlights her nose and cheekbones, making her eyes out to be dark gems glittering in her face. The curve of her jaw is highlighted next as she turns her head, breaking eye contact, her shoulders shivering as she sucks in a deep breath. Astrophel gathers her in his arms again, pressing a kiss to her forehead and turning them both towards his home.

“It’s getting late, Ast.”

“It’s too cold to swim back to Thiene at this time of night. If you were already in the water, sure, but…” he rubs his nose against her temple, “let me be selfish and keep you a while longer.”

“Ast…”

“Tell me you hate the sword and you can’t stand the sight of me, and you can go.”

Dionne pauses.

Astrophel catches her chin softly between his forefinger and thumb, guiding her eyes back to his. “Tell me to stop.”

“I’ll never tell you that.” She kisses him again, throwing her arm around his neck. Kissing her back, made more difficult by the smile already upon his lips, he scoops her into his arms, sword and all, and carries her across the shrubby grass and well worn dirt path he knows by heart to the longhouse he helped build by hand. Pushing open the door, the whistling wind dies down as he steps inside, carrying Dionne over the threshold. Not built for a great gathering like his mother’s house, his is still spacious enough one has to walk through three rooms to reach the other end. Built for a family. Built with room to grow.

The beams are sturdy and raw, though stripped of bark so the whorls and lines of the wood shine through. Underfoot, the thatched flooring is covered in rugs and pelts. Astrophel sets Dionne on her feet, making sure she is steady before stepping from her side in search of a lantern. Lighting one, he sets it on a low table by the door and brings Dionne a change of clothes. “There should be water in the back if you want to wash off. Otherwise, you have the bed.”

“Ast, I’m not kicking you out of your…”

“Dio, take it.”

“I…” Dionne’s hands fist in the clothing he handed her.

Astrophel leans in and rubs his nose against hers before pulling away. “Let me take care of you.”

“But you shouldn’t have to sleep on the…”

“The floor? I did in Asos, and let me tell you, this is going to be more comfortable.” He taps the rugs underfoot with a smile. Handing Dionne the lantern, he says, “Sleep well, Dio.”

She takes the lantern, stringing the sword belt over her shoulder so she has enough hands to carry the lantern and the clothes. She kisses him on the lips once more, the kiss soft and lingering, reaching inside his chest and circling around his heart. She smiles when she pulls back and walks into the other room calling, “You too, Ast.”

Stripping out of his wet clothes, he hangs them in the corner over a basin which will catch the water as they dry overnight, and pulls on a fresh pair of pants which flirt with his hipbones and brush around his heels, just over the floor. Grabbing a rolled hide from a stack, Astrophel plops it down in the corner of the main room, settling down and pulling a pelt over top of him. Closing his eyes, he pictures the way the moonlight danced over Dionne’s expression again and again until sleep catches him in its net and pulls him down into the dark.