Atem x Reader ☆ In the Twilight

Chapter 6

The tides move in softly, bringing waves from afar. They wash across white sands and break at your toes. When the oceans ask for their return, they slip away—only to find their way back, again and again. Saltwater—the smell of it tickles your nose, and though sharp, the winds soften the scent into something light and airy and remarkably fresh.

You were fond of the seas—the effortless nature they possessed to rush peace upon all who gazed across them. The waves knew how to quiet the voices of the elves.

It gives you time to sort out your thoughts, and you have—mostly. Looking back, you understand that it was not the elves who stole your wandering feet to come and seek. You were not under any spell or enchantment when you chose to follow their voices. Under that twilight sky, you were a child fascinated by creatures lost to myth who wove magic in the depths of the forest and sang to the stars. It was hidden and secret.

You were not meant to get swept up in their allure, nor to take the silence of a little boy and spin it into promises of more. The elves did not mean to hurt you, but their world was their own and they did not wish for you to find them or give chase. It was not fair to blame them for wanting to stay a mystery—for feeling safest as something only born of dreams.

Though you do not know why they might wish to keep to themselves, you have come to understand that it is for you to only accept that they do. And you do not wish to muddle the whimsical memories of starlight dances with bitterness or misplaced anger. After all, the only elf you ever met was rather nice.

Now truly, your only wish was for the oceans to carry their songs away into mist. For when the winds carry their words to you, it almost seems as if everything that you've come to accept and believe might really be—

Purple flashes in the ocean.

Your breath catches.

There, in the water, under the bright glittering sun shining upon the tides it is unmistakable.

There is something purple in the waters.

You chase after it, following deep into the waters until they're lapping at your thighs in the waves. It's right at your feet, buried in the sand beneath your toes—you reach for it and the waters break as you grasp and wrench your hand free.

Drops of water run down from your hands to your elbow and fall away. It's cold and the wind bites, but all of that goes unnoticed because—

In the sun, free from the seas, it was even more clear.

Bright and beautiful purple painting a smooth and pretty shell—perfect and unbroken by the waves.

All you can do is stare entranced by the color.

Until—

A hand touches your shoulder and you almost jump from the shock, tearing your gaze away to stare at your father. He smiles at you.