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[ the surface is a perilous place, forbidden by her peoples, and not without reason. theirs is an ancient colony, hunted near to extinction and so to preserve the whole they must take care. it has been many generations since last they interacted with the land creatures in any formal capacity, commerce and communion with mankind strictly forbidden since time immemorial. so much time has passed that more than like they have become myth to any who do not know the secret of their existence, and that is just as they prefer it. long lived as they are, new births are rare and come slowly; it will be millennia yet still to replenish their numbers to what they once were.
but alisaie has ever had a taste for the forbidden, a curiosity for the unknown, and a fierce wanderlust. she loves her peoples and her home but it is not enough, it shall never be enough, and as she grows and comes of age she is more and more dissatisfied.
they cannot stop her visiting the surface. theirs are a free people, and the sea is vast, parties of hunters and workers always coming and going. no one tracks her, and she says nothing of her visits above, of how she peers at passing ships and lays on warm rocks beneath the sun to watch the waves roll over the shoreline. she does not fear mankind perhaps as she should, and the more she quietly, secretly observes them, the more assured she becomes of their goodness. their behavior is not so different from her own, from what little she can glean from the lives of the sailors she watches - they laugh and love and suffer and work together, and they build such strange, incredible things..
she has watched this ship for several days, following its path, blending with pods of dolphins to swim near the surface during the day, risking more under cover of dark, when she peers through the portholes and listens to their voices on deck. their language is foreign to her, but the tones of their words speak plenty, their expressions easy to read. it's a small group of men, few, but perhaps they are brothers, for how fondly they seem to behave toward one another, laughing and sharing food, roughhousing playfully, the small, fair-haired one especially, who seems always to be smiling about something.
storms at sea are common and set in quickly, often with little warning. it's late in the night when it hits, stirring alisaie from her doze nearby, the crack and groan of wood cutting sharply through the water, the shouts of human voices muffled, but discernible to her keen ears.
alisaie is off like a shot, darting through the waters toward the source, but there is little enough to be done - the ship is split asunder before she can even reach it, and her heart sinks for those on board; the sea is no place for man, who braves much to sail her waters. they have paid the price. ]
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.. she's never been a very talented artist, however. it should hardly matter much now though, when she's simply trying to get her point across. taking the offered pencil and pad, it takes her some time to maneuver her fingers to properly grip the pencil, before she begins to carefully trace the outline of a fish, her lines trembling and sloppy, but it at least is recognizable. she'll get to the photos soon enough.. ]
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Got it. Sit tight. I'll be back in just a jiff!
[ There is, at least, a market just across the street, so although Prompto doesn't have any fresh fish in his fridge, it's not too far away. He'll leave the photographs and the pad of paper, at least, to keep her occupied in the interim.
He points to the door, and then mimes walking with his two fingers. ]
I have to go. Will you be okay?
[ ...How does he even communicate "okay"? ]
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and then, for the first time in what feels like a thousand years she is.. alone. it's so quiet all around her, but in a way that is peaceful rather than menacing, a comfortable emptiness and at last she can.. relax. this tub is very small and uncomfortable, but it feels like luxury after that terrible tank, to be freed from that horrid collar and the constant probing from, terrifying, unfamiliar men. she still can't entirely trust him, it's difficult to allow herself to feel safe, but.. well, there's no arguing the results. this is one step closer to freedom.
and so alisaie reclines against the tub, tired and spent, and while she's intensely curious about - well, everything around her (what are these knobs? why is there a drape? what is that white roll?) she's simply too exhausted to go picking at much. instead, she rests one arm on the lip of the tub with her chin upon it, and drops her other hand to the box he had left behind, sifting through the strange little flat images. hmm.. ]
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Ah...and there's the toilet paper all over the floor.
Well, he can worry about that later. She seems to have gotten into the photographs, too, which the more he thinks about it, will make an excellent tool for communication, but they can worry about that more later. For now, he's tearing into one of his bags, a container of raw fish inside which he hands to her promptly. ]
Dunno if that's a kind you like...hope you do. I-if not, I can get somethin' different next time.
[ He smiles, encouraging her to take the fish. ]
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gods, it smells heavenly.
he's saying words, but alisaie hardly comprehend it - she all but dives onto the meat, lifting it with her hands and sinking her teeth into the soft, raw flesh and gulping down great mouthfuls - within moments she's devoured it right down to the skin, and is licking the fresh juices from her fingers. mmmmmm. ]
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Well, it would seem she doesn't indeed like the fish. The way she goes after her meal is a bit of a reminder about how dangerous and strong she can be when she wants to, and not for the first time, he counts himself very lucky that she didn't suffocate him to death right there on the laboratory floor.
Absently, his fingers trace over the marks on his neck, even as he hands her another fish. ]
...I'm sorry. I'm...I'm so sorry. You've been through so much, and I think it's my fault...
[ His eyes fall away, but the tears that hadn't fallen earlier return, slipping silently down his cheeks. ]
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and of course she's less distracted, better able to listen to his words, and she does not understand them, but she can nonetheless feel the emotion in his voice, the way it tightens and trembles. alisaie lowers the half-eaten steak, peering up into his face with clear curiosity that only intensifies when she sees..
.. what? what is that? a wetness on his face - had she splashed him accidentally? no, no it's streaming down his face, from his eyes, which is quite startling. has he injured himself? he certainly appears to be in pain.
carefully, alisaie lifts one hand to touch his face, the pads of her fingertips gliding gently through a stream of tears, her brow creased. ]
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He tries to explain. As best he can, anyway. ]
They're tears. I'm...I'm sad. For you.
[ He gestures to his tears, then presses his hand against his heart, before reaching out to just brush his fingertips over her neck. ]
I-I'm going to make it right, though. I'll get you back home.
[ He draws back to sort through his photographs for a moment before handing her one of the shoreline, so far from here, but where he will see to it she returns to somehow. ]
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but she feels inexplicably safe with him. the gentleness she had seen in him seems not to have gone, and slowly her suspicion is beginning to erode. perhaps he does not intend to do her harm.. but whether he plans to release her to the sea still remains to be seen. still, she feels far more safe in this tiny cramped tub than she had in that awful laboratory.
the photographs are mystifying, and she turns it over in her hands a few times before examining the picture on the front. is this some sort of art? a drawing like he had done? it certainly seems extremely realistic..
alisaie's expression tightens as she runs her fingertips over the image of the shorline; gods, it has been so long since she has been able to swim freely, it feels like another lifetime.. ]
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But he can't. It isn't safe. Not yet.
Not yet, but soon. ]
Soon.
[ He hands the photograph to her more fully then, so she can hang onto it, if she would like. ]
...I wish I knew what to call you. Do...do you have a name? [ He purses his lips, thinking, before pointing at himself. ] I'm Prompto. And you...
[ He points to her, hoping she'll fill in with some name she goes by. ]
http://78.media.tumblr.com/5d92e1eeee8d98fe66e04c8de8e1ab0a/tumblr_myt8qfcOqF1s3hm0qo4_250.gif
[ she parrots - what an odd name, but then she supposes that it not so surprising. her voice is still rusty with disuse, but it gets easier to speak with every word. he gestures to her, and alisaie smiles, placing one hand over her collar. ]
Alisaie.
i knew exactly what the gif would be before i clicked...
Alisaie...that's a beautiful name. [ Color touches his cheeks, but his smile doesn't falter. ] Alisaie...we're gonna get through this, together.
[ That is his solemn promise - the only promise - he can give her. ]
i knew you would :blush:
but she is here now, and more and more allowing herself to believe that he will help her, that his involvement in her torment was involuntary. perhaps it's the sweet taste of freedom coloring her thoughts favorably, but nonetheless she feels content as she eases down against the back of the tub, holding the small picture to her breast. ]