12-20-2021, 04:18 PM
[[Continued from Wanderlust]]
On the journey to the shoreline, Thalia asked Tristan about his life in Iceland. She had been to Reykjavik before, but only on a tourist excursion with her sister (a birthday present), and that many years ago now. She remembered the beauty, though. She spoke a little about her own home in Moscow, her work, and her sister. Asked Sierra where she was from, and inquired if the dog-not-dogs had names. She never pressed deeply for answers if they were reluctantly given, but was curious about both of their lives, and soaked in every detail they chose to give willingly. In the lulls she meandered tales of the island’s history and folklore (especially pertaining to the lake and rock), and spoke with the genuine awe and enthusiasm of someone charmed by life’s mysteries; who was naturally inquisitive about, well, everything. And sometimes she was quiet, too, distracted by the scenery and the beribboned totems that dotted the path. For all that she was happy to fill the silences, they didn’t seem to bother her either.
She paused briefly once the broad, bright surface of the lake first came into view beyond the trees, much as she had done her first day here. Then she followed the incline down to the shingled beach. A few tourists milled, but it was early and peaceful still. Thalia let the others choose a sheltered spot before she dropped her bag from her shoulder. Perhaps it was just that the sun was barely up, but it was not as warm as yesterday, the wind biting a little bitter as she wiggled out of her borrowed garments. She envied the dog-not-dogs their thick pelts of fur. Her swimming costume beneath was still a little damp, though she had rung it out in the cabin, and it felt not exactly pleasant now the cold took nibbles from exposed skin. She folded Sierra’s clothes more carefully than she would have her own, and placed them with her things. Though she had left most of her belongings at her homestay in the village, everything important was in that bag; her wallet and money, her pens and sketches, and the pinecone in its burn box.
“Will you wait here or return to the cabin?” she asked Sierra. She was not quite sure if the woman actually disliked her, and it made her deeply uncomfortable as a possibility; especially as, whatever the other woman’s true feelings might be, she still made the effort to be kind. Thalia was warm in return, and perhaps a little more obviously so in fear of that rejection. She sat with her for a moment longer, staring out at the water, her hand snaking up over her shoulder where the first poppies bloomed a large design down her back. The voluptuous figure inked amongst the flowers there was an exorcism at the time, but it had been a beginning not an end. Not for the first time she wondered where Yana was now, or if it was just the point at which she’d left reality and never returned.
“There are more drawings of the Tuuru creature in my sketchbook,” she said eventually. “You are welcome to look, if you wanted. Maybe you will understand more of it than I did.”
After that she stood, and waited for Tristan to lead them on.
On the journey to the shoreline, Thalia asked Tristan about his life in Iceland. She had been to Reykjavik before, but only on a tourist excursion with her sister (a birthday present), and that many years ago now. She remembered the beauty, though. She spoke a little about her own home in Moscow, her work, and her sister. Asked Sierra where she was from, and inquired if the dog-not-dogs had names. She never pressed deeply for answers if they were reluctantly given, but was curious about both of their lives, and soaked in every detail they chose to give willingly. In the lulls she meandered tales of the island’s history and folklore (especially pertaining to the lake and rock), and spoke with the genuine awe and enthusiasm of someone charmed by life’s mysteries; who was naturally inquisitive about, well, everything. And sometimes she was quiet, too, distracted by the scenery and the beribboned totems that dotted the path. For all that she was happy to fill the silences, they didn’t seem to bother her either.
She paused briefly once the broad, bright surface of the lake first came into view beyond the trees, much as she had done her first day here. Then she followed the incline down to the shingled beach. A few tourists milled, but it was early and peaceful still. Thalia let the others choose a sheltered spot before she dropped her bag from her shoulder. Perhaps it was just that the sun was barely up, but it was not as warm as yesterday, the wind biting a little bitter as she wiggled out of her borrowed garments. She envied the dog-not-dogs their thick pelts of fur. Her swimming costume beneath was still a little damp, though she had rung it out in the cabin, and it felt not exactly pleasant now the cold took nibbles from exposed skin. She folded Sierra’s clothes more carefully than she would have her own, and placed them with her things. Though she had left most of her belongings at her homestay in the village, everything important was in that bag; her wallet and money, her pens and sketches, and the pinecone in its burn box.
“Will you wait here or return to the cabin?” she asked Sierra. She was not quite sure if the woman actually disliked her, and it made her deeply uncomfortable as a possibility; especially as, whatever the other woman’s true feelings might be, she still made the effort to be kind. Thalia was warm in return, and perhaps a little more obviously so in fear of that rejection. She sat with her for a moment longer, staring out at the water, her hand snaking up over her shoulder where the first poppies bloomed a large design down her back. The voluptuous figure inked amongst the flowers there was an exorcism at the time, but it had been a beginning not an end. Not for the first time she wondered where Yana was now, or if it was just the point at which she’d left reality and never returned.
“There are more drawings of the Tuuru creature in my sketchbook,” she said eventually. “You are welcome to look, if you wanted. Maybe you will understand more of it than I did.”
After that she stood, and waited for Tristan to lead them on.
![[Image: thal-banner-scaled.jpg]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/08/thal-banner-scaled.jpg)