(no subject)

[thetenth]

And still he found himself drawn to the ocean. In the first three years of his reign in Narnia, he hadn't had as much time as he'd like to spend time on the water, but still those names had arrived - Seafarer, Navigator. He had comissioned the Dawn Treader built and those days, those first days before the green mist and the dragon, those were some of the happiest of his life. It had felt like freedom, pure and simple. It had felt like flying. He had woken to discover a small boat, its sail in green and gold, small enough for one man to sail comfortably, a cabin to be slept in, and, painted on the side, in gilt letters, was her name.

The Queen of Narnia.

He'd spent all morning in and out of the boat, and then decided to strip and swim. He'd spent a pleasant half an hour or so dipping and diving before he emerged, pushing his hair back from his face.

This place, he thought.
He could be happy in a place like this.

Comments

[victorofthe65th]

The rope had still been there when Finnick returned from his mid-day meal. Just as much of it as before he'd left. After a long few moments of internal debate, Finnick had finally taken a few of the thinner coils and, after inspecting them for anything out of the ordinary, had looped them over his shoulder and wandered back out in the sand.

He's spent the past few hours fashioning himself a net, one that's better and stronger than the vine one he's been using. His fingers are aching pleasantly as he finishes, spreading it out along the sand and testing its give.

Once satisfied, he gathers it in and squints out across the water, noticing the boat drifting along the waves and the man swimming near it.

He looks so carefree, so at ease. And something in Finnick's gut pulls tight.