"Hit me with a song, if you've got one handy?"

"You really shouldn't have asked me that."

Her gold-flecked eyes pinioned him measuring him accusing him of a sinless offense, all the while festooning him with a smile that wasn't there at all. And in the next heartbeat, when the deadened sky was ripped apart yet again, she slipped off the rocks, gently wading into the waters again, without as much as another word or a ripple of concern, barely stirring the warm lichen in her wake as she slithered off; the scent of her hair was the salt in the air, the spume from the sea glistening on his bare skin.

She jilted her shadow, forsaking him for her own sea, leaving him for the wetness that was her homeland. Her undulating movements were vaguely amorous when the ever grateful sea swallowed her graceful descent, the sea gone insane, mad, the color of ripe green apple.

The weight of water consumed her and the waves turned vermillion like she had just slain the sea. He saw her sink into the known watching her reclaim her crown. He watched the sea eat her just as she ate his sadness, looking at her absconding for her heartland, he knew he was her tragedy.

And he found out it was possible to drown even with the promises kept and words spoken out in actuality, without the music of her voice.

To welk and ebb away even in the smallest of rainfall, despite standing there dressed in full chainmail out in the open, drowning, in the serein weeping down from the burnt skies.