the keening bell, alexia

[eli barrows]

Eli woke up that morning with the memory of the old herring fisherman he had saved. In his dream, he had swam through the ocean as if air. He breathed in the water, letting it fill his lungs and give life to him, and exhaled. It was a euphoric sensation – his nerves tingling and heartbeat strumming as he slipped through the water like a pale seal. He had woken up with the sensation of sandpaper rubbing across his palm and fingers. The old fisherman’s rough hand, calluses built upon calluses like barnacles, from a life at sea. Knotted knuckles, thick fingers and a broad palm had grasped so tightly onto Eli’s slender one, his fervor to live evident.

Eli blinked at the gray dawn and curled his fingers into his palm.

He never needed an alarm clock, growing up working early hours had instilled one within him. He had never been able to sleep past seven o’clock. He grabbed at his wristwatch on the nightstand and saw that it was just past six in the morning. Pulling off his blanket that Mrs. Tavernier had quilted for him, he rested the soles of his feet against the cold floorboards. His window was bare, allowing the early morning light to stream easily through the paneled window. He arose and walked over to open its squeaky hinges. He curled his arm to the outside of the window and raised a finger to stroke a glass pane, lifting a streak of grime and sea salt with it. Wiping the smudge against the window ledge, he stared out to the tumbling sea waves not far away. Gulls cried nearby, swooping and drifting overhead. Eli breathed in, the crisp air as it ran sharp across his tongue and into his lungs, awakening him.

He closed the window, the sound of the hinges scraping at his ears again. Quickly he threw on a white t-shirt and jeans overtop his swimming trunks. It was still warm enough that he didn’t need a wetsuit, but the cold air still nipped at his skin as he shoved his arms into his brown military jacket. Leaving his room, he left the room unlocked, as there had never been a need to do so. The home served as a bed and breakfast during the summer months, but for Eli it had always been a boarding house of sorts. Mrs. Moreau, the owner, had refused to call it a boarding house, saying it sounded too cold for her liking. There was fresh fruit and croissants on the laced parlor table as usual. He looked around for Mrs. Moreau who somehow always managed to be awake before him, but didn’t see the tiny elderly woman. Grabbing an apple, he crept quietly out the door.

The streets of Saint-Michel were barely beginning to stir. Golden threads of sunlight were dusting off the gray mist that clung to the stones and walls. A chimney or two had smoke curling out, but most of the buildings remained quiet. He smiled, taking another bite of apple. Small birds twittered atop a trellis, near the fountain that gurgled as he walked through the town square.

As he reached the coast, he inadvertently thought of Leah. His dreams had never wandered to her but he often had dreamed of that overcast day. Although in his dreams, he never sees her or is aware that she is waiting. Only when he awakes does he realize what he had been dreaming of. He cast thoughts of Leah away. He had promised himself a long time ago that he wouldn’t dwell in the past and what could never be. When he let her go, he had let go his memories of her as well.

Reaching the water’s edge, he stared for a moment at the swell of the waves and at the horizon where sea and sky mingled together in a blur of green-gray. He quickly kicked off his shoes and laid his clothes on one of the dark, craggy rocks. And then he rushed into the waves.

His skin tingled as he slipped through the green waters and away from the white crescents of waves that beat against black rocks. In the distance there was a buoy that bobbed to and fro, one that he swam out to every day. Being immersed in the seawater was like going home. His heart swelled like the tides, and beat like the crash of waves. He would stay here for the remainder of his days if he could, build a shack on the coast and be close to whom he loved. After he rounded the buoy, the swim back was always the hardest. Especially with the natural current of the ocean constantly pulling him back, refusing to let go of him. But as he swam back, he saw a smudge of yellow from the corner of his eye and he stopped swimming. A young woman with flaxen hair cautiously dipped among the shallow waters closer to the coast. Suddenly, she stopped, her body going rigid as she became aware of Eli’s presence. He treaded water for a moment, watching her lithe form drift with the waves. Tentatively, he rose in his hand in a small wave. He had never seen anyone else at this coast, especially this early in the morning. He couldn’t help but wonder who this girl was.

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[alexia kingston]

There had always been something about mornings that appealed to Alexia. There was an exhilarating kind of mystery that rose with the sun, a question of what the day ahead would hold. No matter her plans for the day, in the dim light of early morning it always seemed that anything was possible.

For as long as she could remember, she had been an early riser. Perhaps it was simply the necessity of waking early in the morning for school that had instilled this habit within her. Alternately, it may have been a trait she had been born with, such as her stubborn nature or the head of wavy, blonde hair she had long possessed. Whatever the case may be, mornings were undoubtedly her favourite time of the day. Few things could bring her as much joy as sitting in silence, watching the sun rise. Particularly here in Saint-Michel, sunrises took on an ethereal quality, as though Heaven temporarily opened its gates to the world, shining down with a splendour that was, in all actuality, likely only a glimpse of what was to come. She liked to imagine, as she sat outside most mornings, a cup of tea grasped by the handle and her eyes trained on the horizon, that God, wherever He was, had poured out this sunrise especially for her. It was, in one way or another, her own daily reminder to live her life as fully as possible. She was still alive for whatever reason; why not take the time to appreciate it?

However much she enjoyed sunrises, Alexia did not always opt to spend her mornings out of doors—or near a window when the weather did not permit such excursions—watching the sun greet the earth with easy familiarity. Indeed, there were occasionally things to be done, or sleep to be caught up on after late nights. Indeed, there were times that she simply felt inclined to take herself on an adventure in the early hours of the morning. For whatever reason, she occasionally allowed herself to become so caught up in these excursions that she missed the quiet grandeur of the sunrise. And, as fate would have it, this was one such morning.

She had awoke to a sound that, upon her waking, had abruptly stopped. She was left wondering, then, what had woken her, with only a faint recollection, dim and distant within her sleep-clouded memories, of what exactly it had been that had caused her to drift out of her blissful state of rest. It was just past five-thirty in the morning when she slid from under the cover of her sheets and began to follow an impulse that quickly formed into a plan. Complex? Hardly, but the plotting of it brought a smile to her face. It had been far to long since her last ocean swim, and she could certainly use the fresh air. Her solid, teal coloured one-piece donned, accompanied by a pair of sneakers and topped by a pair of shorts and a hooded sweatshirt, she left her shared flat, carefully closed the door behind her so as to make as little noise as possible, and headed for the coast.

The first few pulls through the water were hesitant, uncertain. However, it did not take long for her body to find, once more, the natural rhythm of swimming. It was an activity she had grown accustomed to in the months following her surgery, a form of physical therapy that helped not only the left side of her body to recuperate from the surgery but her lungs as well. As her body grew stronger and her breathing improved, she had come to realise that she quite liked the motion of swimming. She would hardly be the next Olympic champion, but there was nothing that said she could not enjoy herself regardless.

She began her swim with a longer stretch, swimming further into the current than perhaps she should have after a long break from this particular exercise. However, what fun was being cautious? She knew that she was capable of swimming in such deep waters, provided the weather was nice as it was today. Regardless of her tendency to be slightly reckless, she did understand the limitations of her body, perhaps better than most considering her level of experience with being pressed to her limits. She swam this way until her body began to tire, then opted for the shallow portion of the water, where she swam lazily and enjoyed the feeling of the cool water surrounding her and the silence of the early morning. She was grateful, just this once, to be alone.

Her solitude did not last for long, however. She soon caught sight of another swimmer, much further in than she was. It was a curious thing, she thought, as she had expected the coast to be empty this early morning. She felt suddenly nervous at the thought of being caught out of the water in only her suit. The reason for this slight, momentary panic was long scar that curved along her left side, beginning roughly a quarter of the way across her chest and ending at the same distance on her back. It was long, slightly jagged, and a horrible spot of vanity for Alexia. She was not one to dwell on her appearance in the more general areas of hair, clothing, or even the occasional bouts with acne that had been far more common in her teenage years. If someone found her in any way undesirable, it was their loss. However, the scar was not a natural part of her appearance. It was evidence that her life had been spared, a fact for which she remained quite grateful, but it was far too conspicuous for her liking. And, while it was not typically an issue, it was now, and she was left treading water and wondering what to do.

Her answer came in the form of a small, seemingly hesitant wave offered by her fellow swimmer. She watched him curiously for a moment before a grin worked its way across her features and she lifted her hand to mirror the gesture. The morning was still and quiet despite the crashing waves long the coast. Tentatively, she called out a simple, “Hello!” Scar or no, she was not about to relinquish an opportunity to interact with a potential friend. No matter how great her vanity might be, her insatiable curiosity far surpassed it. She lowered her hand, still smiling, and began to swim toward him, hoping that he wouldn’t mind this sudden and unexpected intrusion on his morning.

[eli barrows]

The girl suddenly swam forward, the pale green waves sloshing against her figure. It was such a strange time of the day for a rendezvous - when the air was still stale with early morning, and night had only just fallen away. Especially for venturing further out in cold water that sunk to the bone. She had called back in greeting and for a brief flash, he thought he had known her. As if she was a person from his past, from England, who had swum across the channel to find him again.

But as quickly as the thought had flung across his mind, it disappeared. No one knew him in St. Michel – it was why he was here. He had never seen anyone in these frigid swells this early in the morning – he could already feel his feet cramping into a numbness. He swam closer, cupping his hands as he dipped them into the water for each fluid stroke. The slip of water along his hands made his skin tingle. There was hardly a feeling that could compare. But he remembered his fingers threading through Leah’s long hair, and the brush of her warm skin against his. He thrust his arms through the water faster, driving those light sensations away with each sting of the slap of water.

The girl was only yards from him. He didn’t understand why he was suddenly making contact with this stranger. He could of gone on swimming, gathered his things and left her to her own. Maybe it was his elation from swimming that made him wave, or the innate need to connect with someone his own age, either way he still didn’t understand why he had raised his hand and waved to someone unfamiliar. But she was pretty – he could at least understand that.

Why was she here? Her wet hair slicked back from swimming had the hint of fairness. He was here everyday at least it was routine. But she – her green eyes matched the viridian swath of water around them – she, he had never seen. Freckles dusted the arc of her cheekbones, falling to her shoulders and arms that sloped into the water. He found footing on the soft sand beneath him, the fine silt sifting between his toes.

”Hi,” he said a little more out of breath than he should of been. ”I’ve never seen anyone else here before. Just a morning swim?” She instantly felt familiar, as he eased his way into conversation like the dive into water. The pull of the tide kept swaying their bodies, each swell bringing them close and dragging them back again. The ache of cold drifted away for a moment as Eli’s skin tingled for another reason.

ooc:: THREE HUNDRED YEARS LATER. geez.

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[alexia kingston]

As the stranger swam toward her, Alexia’s small bout of anxiety began to ease. Unless he was coming over here to tell her to get lost—which, under the circumstances, would have made very little sense at all—he obviously had not minded her greeting. In any case, he had been the one to wave first, had he not? She grinned to herself at this unforeseen turn of events. Who would have expected an impromptu morning swim to turn into something rather more exciting? She was grateful, this time, for a bit less sleep if it meant a new adventure. If this was the beginning, then who could possibly expect what the day might bring?

They met somewhere in-between, though she had the sneaking suspicion that he had swum further than her. His strokes were stronger, more confident, while hers were still rusty and inexperienced. It has been too long, certainly; she could use a fair bit of practice. She found herself stopping, allowing him to close the final bit of distance between them. She watched his hands dip and rise through the water and smiled at the grace she saw there. Perhaps she could match him, one day. Perhaps he would help her.

She shivered involuntarily as their gazes met. She was now aware of the deep chill of the water, where she bobbed up and down with the gentle waves, her toes barely reaching the sandy bottom. She moved her hands through the water, hoping that the slight movement might be an improvement, at least, to her previous stillness. Before she could think of what to say to this young man, he opened his mouth in greeting.

“I’ve never seen anyone else here before. Just a morning swim?” Alexia smiled gently in reply, nodding her head slowly. She was grateful for the cool, grey water that surrounded her, hiding her gruesome mark from sight. She hardly expected anything to happen between them, but, regardless, he was attractive, and her vanity kept her hoping that he would think the same of her, even if they were never to meet again.

Biting back the chatter her teeth so longed to break into, she replied, “Yeah. It’s been… too long.”

[/color] She felt breathless from the cold; her cheeks were flushed a gentle pink. “I used to swim, quite a lot. Back home, that is.”[/color] She paused, cocking her head ever so slightly as she silently studied him. “Do you come out here often, then?”[/color] Without much thought at all, her right hand drifted up out of the water, casting ripples in the rising of the sun. “Alexia Kingston. And you are?”[/color][/size][/blockquote]