000 ⇒ Dream
She's the most breathtakingly beautiful creation he has ever laid witness to, with hair the color of sapphires rushing down her back in waves, and an eye as wide and haunting as the moon on a bitter night. Her pale blue legs extend all the way to the horizon; her breasts roll with every intake of breath. Tall and thin, graceful. Deep. Deadly. He can do nothing but stare at her for what seems like days on end, helpless and entranced from the high rock that's been beaten smooth by her beauty.
"I'm going to kill you soon," she whispers in a rumble, almost like a storm. Or maybe a lullaby.
Whatever the sound, all he knows is he's in love.
"Or," she diverts with soft coyness, pulling at the front of her azure dress. "Would you rather...?"
"Yeeeeeeeeees, my goddess~!"
A chuckle. He thinks she finds him cute, and that only increases the flow of hearts that dance around them like children in the dark. She extends one of her delicate hands that could crush him in an instant, and heartsick, he takes it. Then he watches as she surges up to embrace him in one swift movement.
He can't breathe and wonders with seeping alarm if that should concern him. Ah, such a rough lady she can be.
But it's hard to be worried when all he can see are streams of light bending and reflecting her into different hues of azure and cerulean, as he drifts deeper into her body. Sinking further. The pressure increases. Is love meant to feel this painful, like you're about to drown? Even so, he's already decided that if he does die, he can't hold it against her. She's a woman, and he loves her: her grace, her fury, her compassion and her gentleness, each emotion that rolls against him and lovingly whispers him to sleep.
... No, not asleep. Awake.
The eye he didn't know was shut snaps open in sudden realization, like he's seeing for the first time. And it's not his lover he's focused on. The bounty of fish that fill each corner of her flesh hold a beauty of their own. Kinds he's never seen before but his imagination recognizes. His heart starts aching with new found urgency.
All... Blue...
That he's choking for air finally hits home. O-oi, he doesn't want to die! Not yet... because...
A voice cuts through the depths with an whiny impatience that makes the man twitch on instinct. "Is it lunch-time yet? I'm hungryyyyyyyyyy," it offers up helpfully. Annoying shit.
But he's right. Lunch. How could he forget something as important as that? Now he definitely can't die, or his kitchen will be raided down to the last grape. That simple truth strengthens his resolve, and his legs move of their own accord now, beating back and forth for the surface that is a lot closer than he figured. Distantly, he makes out the sound of his lover trying to sing him back, a roar of bubbles and water.
Only to be immediately drowned out by a chorus made of eight voices above the surface, happy and demanding and hungry.
Still submerged, he turns and bows in apology to his lady with a soft smile. He'll be back, he silently promises, like he always does.
But there's a crew that needs feeding, and they've always come first.