"Come on, come on, come on! Are you being a slowpoke on porpoise, Finnick? There is not a minute to lose here!" Feferi's been goading and heckling him on the whole journey down to the beach, literally running effervescent circles around his much more relaxed gait.
"If you do not make good on your promise, I'll have a very difficult time forgiving you, you know," she says, her patience about as gentle as a sea urchin to the face. She giggles then, darting ahead of him. The air is soft and saline, that dull waking blue only present just before sunrise. That night had been long and moonless and now even the stars have melted into the sky as she leads the way to shore. On Alternia, it was only ever dark, the gloomiest of purples, or dim, browns and blues and grays that were nearly viscous. So Feferi has something of a undying affection for sunrises, that bright, dramatic turn of dark into light, of colors melted across the atmosphere. She's deemed it a good day to see this phenomenon up close, what with Finnick finally finishing his new ship. Made him promise that he'd take her out, pinkies and all.
(Even if her hand in the actual completion of the boat was limited to dubious moral support given from the warm sand and frothy surf.
"Your mast is crooked."
"Isn't that upside down?!"
"We should paint a guppy on it!")
But finished boats were much more interesting and useful than hunks of wood strewn about a baking hot beach. Finally she can see it, the dark silhouette lurching at its mooring space in the distance. She grins at him, eyes alight.
( maybe we shouldn't know where all rivers begin. )
"If you do not make good on your promise, I'll have a very difficult time forgiving you, you know," she says, her patience about as gentle as a sea urchin to the face. She giggles then, darting ahead of him. The air is soft and saline, that dull waking blue only present just before sunrise. That night had been long and moonless and now even the stars have melted into the sky as she leads the way to shore. On Alternia, it was only ever dark, the gloomiest of purples, or dim, browns and blues and grays that were nearly viscous. So Feferi has something of a undying affection for sunrises, that bright, dramatic turn of dark into light, of colors melted across the atmosphere. She's deemed it a good day to see this phenomenon up close, what with Finnick finally finishing his new ship. Made him promise that he'd take her out, pinkies and all.
(Even if her hand in the actual completion of the boat was limited to dubious moral support given from the warm sand and frothy surf.
"Your mast is crooked."
"Isn't that upside down?!"
"We should paint a guppy on it!")
But finished boats were much more interesting and useful than hunks of wood strewn about a baking hot beach. Finally she can see it, the dark silhouette lurching at its mooring space in the distance. She grins at him, eyes alight.
"Perhaps a race is in order, no?"