shallow tides → QUIL ATEARA ✓

𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄
— 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓈 𝓌𝑒 𝑔𝑜 𝑜𝓃 —

𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄, gentle with caressing hands that comfort the two individuals, settles over Quil Ateara's warm cottage. His imprint stares expectantly, awaiting the questions that undoubtedly swirl within his crowded mind. But if they could rest here, in this moment, the girl would find her peace. What lies beyond this property — the death, the mourning, the haunting — is dormant here, almost as if it never existed. And although she could easily get lost in the distraction, in Quil and his caring eyes, she still remembers the reason for her presence here. Because somewhere, perhaps in a space of nothingness while awaiting his next appearance in the world of the living, her brother is fading. And even if she wishes that he could stay forever, she needs to find the solution he's searching for. As much as she wants to avoid the truth, her business here is simple: Graham Torine belongs somewhere else, and there is nothing his sister can do to stop it.

Oakley's fingers brush the sofa as she braces her palm against it for support, her ember eyes finding his shirtless frame once again. She clears her throat abruptly, averting her attention and redirecting it to his wonder-filled eyes. "I'm sorry for intruding," their conversation continues without a hitch — though the silence would be awkward with anyone else, the quiet ambience that lies between them is soft, peaceful. "But I don't have anywhere else to be, anyone else to be around . . . now that I'm here," she chuckles under her breath and stares at the floor, "it sounds a bit desperate."

She does, in fact, consider this desperation: rushing to his home (on a day in which he planned to visit his other friends) in an attempt to gain his help. But what did she expect? What did she think she would say to him? Standing on his doorstep, finding his eyes so gently and spilling out her heart's deepest secrets — I see the ghost of my brother and you are the key to help him pass into the next life. My father believes I am crazy, and I think I'm falling for you even though we only met two days ago. Perhaps he, too, would suspect her mental instability once she spoke the truth. Maybe he would ask her to leave, or make an excuse for his sudden departure . . . or maybe he is different than everyone else, maybe he wouldn't judge her.

Maybe he has secrets of his own.

"Everyone enjoys my company," he grins, trailing down a hallway to slip a cotton shirt over his head. He notices the smallest of bleach stains on the hemline from a single time he attempted to take on a week's worth of laundry by himself; though his intentions of assisting his mother were pure, he failed before he had even begun. He bites his lip, hoping that Oakley won't notice. Then again, she doesn't really mind the small things that provoke his insecurities, does she? "It doesn't make you desperate."