01-29-2018, 08:26 AM
Ashavari ran curious fingers over the puckered tentacles of the giant model kraken cradling the glass exhibition cases, wondering what such a creature - if such a creature existed - might feel like to her senses. Such enormity might eject her entirely from her own body, even the barest caress of such an inhuman mind. It made her shiver even as it fascinated her, staring into that giant and unfathomable orange eye.
She moved to press a finger to the glass of the exhibit, absorbing the actual specimen within. A squid tentacle taller than she was by almost a foot, and nearly fifty years old. "Oh, El! From the coast off New Zealand!"
Not that she expected him to be listening; she could see the dark reflection of him in the glass, turned away, a frisson of impatience leaking like ink as he waited for his contact.
She'd joined him sometimes on the river banks these past months, but never felt anything tugging at her from those grey waters, just the fleeting dart of fishes about their business. Hat jammed over her ears and hands tucked close to her body she usually watched and tried not to disturb the billowing darkness of his mood. He was blank to her while his gift lashed at the waters, but she didn't need her ability to sense his disappointment each time they found nothing.
Her gaze dipped to read one of the plaques, the words murmured aloud simply for the pleasure of the cadence.
"'Below the thunders of the upper deep
Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea
His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep
The Kraken sleepeth...
There hath he lain for ages and will lie...
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
Then once by man and angels to be seen,
In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.'"
Tennyson. She straightened, feeling those storm-tossed waves crash over her head. What beautiful, haunting words.
She moved to press a finger to the glass of the exhibit, absorbing the actual specimen within. A squid tentacle taller than she was by almost a foot, and nearly fifty years old. "Oh, El! From the coast off New Zealand!"
Not that she expected him to be listening; she could see the dark reflection of him in the glass, turned away, a frisson of impatience leaking like ink as he waited for his contact.
She'd joined him sometimes on the river banks these past months, but never felt anything tugging at her from those grey waters, just the fleeting dart of fishes about their business. Hat jammed over her ears and hands tucked close to her body she usually watched and tried not to disturb the billowing darkness of his mood. He was blank to her while his gift lashed at the waters, but she didn't need her ability to sense his disappointment each time they found nothing.
Her gaze dipped to read one of the plaques, the words murmured aloud simply for the pleasure of the cadence.
"'Below the thunders of the upper deep
Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea
His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep
The Kraken sleepeth...
There hath he lain for ages and will lie...
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
Then once by man and angels to be seen,
In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.'"
Tennyson. She straightened, feeling those storm-tossed waves crash over her head. What beautiful, haunting words.