The burning sensation in her throat grew more when Fleur pressed the cool glass rim against her dry, cracked lips. A single drop of water traced its way inside her mouth, she savored it. Thick saliva lined the inside of her mouth immediately sapping any moisture that may enter. The water was cloudy, chlorinated, and warmer than her hand. The surface lacked the usual tension, possibly from the weight of fine debris. Knowing what the dust around here was made from after the bombings it made her gag just to think of drinking it, but what else was there? She closed her hand tighter around the glass and raised it off the table toward her cracking lips. It's people soup. She lowered it un-drunk, her throat now leathery and coarse. Even if there was another person around to speak to she doubted she could utter a sound. Perhaps if she could make it to the mountains there would be glacier melt water, blue, clear, cold. She wouldn't make it like this though, not beyond thirsty and well into dehydration. In one motion she raised the glass and chugged it down before clasping both hands over her mouth to keep it in.
The leaves in the park had their first autumnal blush and though the tarmac path was wet from the night's rain the sky above promised no more. In an hour or so the path would be dry and the leaves would spring up, their water weight gone. Breathing in the fresh air and feeling it on her face is a tonic for Fleur after the oppressive summer heat. She stretched out her arms into the early summer morning, she always knew it would be a fine day when she couldn't feel the temperature of the air. Outside had the sweet fragrance of freshly cut grass and the birds chattered in the trees. The sky was blue with just a few stratus clouds making their unhurried way toward the ocean. The sun was already a friendly ball of yellow above, promising more heat as the day progressed. All in all she couldn't have asked for better weather. With winter banished to memory she left her thick jacket hanging in the hallway, walking out in a shirt louder than the new spring blooms. Her face radiated more warmth than the soft sun above and her sneakers moved almost soundlessly over the greyed tarmac sidewalk. Even without earphones her head was a jazz concert with sweet saxophone, giving her stride a musical rhythm.
Avery whispers into the breeze, her eyelids fluttering closed as she breathes in the briny aroma. Scrunching her toes, she feels the softness of the sand, still damp from the retreating tide. She wiggles as a shiver cascades down her spine and her eyes burst open.The sand blurs out in a blissful trance, the shore fading into liquid gold, vivid in the brilliant light. Her pale lips curve upward.
Avery bestows her gaze to the far off horizon, the flaring hues of the sun melting into the sky and ocean like a divine painting. The forever stretching sea is masked with an apricot color, that beautiful umber flowing into turquoise. Through narrowed eyes she watches as each wave overlaps one another, sending the white bubbling crests descending, masking the shore with the transparent fading water.
Jacob Fischer threw a big rant on the port where Fleur eventually made her way towards. She had no particular reason to be there, other than to check on the state of Hargeon before she left. But thankfully, Jacob gave her something to do. He wanted Fleur to accompany him to look for a mermaid that he claimed he spotted, though no one seems to believe him. Fleur ventured out with him and for half a day, waited on a boat with the boy in search for the mermaid. They found nothing and alas made it back to shore after hours upon hours of persuasion, they walked back but out of the corner of her eye, Fleur spotted a shimmer in the waters.
Word Count: 822