Abaqua tells a story
Hammock rope pulled at her sides, bound her against the salty air. Those simple strands held her together. She listened to them creek through the dark part of the morning and felt their gentle swing as they kept her limbs from shaking.
Sometimes she was aware of Odeon close by. Mostly he was lost to that quiet section of her mind that kept her breathing- the part that was tied to the present. Booty Bay. They were in Booty Bay.
Her lips were stinging from the sea, from that short step out into yesterday's sun to wash the past month from her face. She couldn't wash the words. The demon's voice coiled like a snake. It nested in her ear and rattled at her.
“You were born quiet and still. Your mother was dying.”