I'm Always In This Twilight

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Celia was on a mission. She had a new sea glass project she was working on, and she needed a specific color to fill in the missing piece. Unfortunately, she was out of that color, so she'd gone back to the place she'd originally found most of her supply of it. Celia, however, was regretting that decision with every step she took. She'd found herself kind of stuck on a platform rock by the opening to a cave, and though the water wasn't too deep here, it was fast and there were other sharp rocks around. She hadn't bothered to wear swimming clothes, which she wasn't sure was good or bad yet. On one hand, her rolled-up jeans would be heavy if she tried to swim, but they might also help offer some protection against the scratchy rocks. Great, she thought. I'm such an idiot. Celia sighed and tugged her hair out of her face into a messy high ponytail so she could see better without the salty air throwing it in her eyes every three seconds. She looked around for another rock to climb on, but was reluctant to leave her current perch. It was seemingly secure for the time being, at least, which Celia couldn't say for sure about the others. Rapids didn't make her nervous like depths did, but she still knew it was dangerous. Do I call for help? she wondered, disliking the prospect. The rock-hopping probably wouldn't be too difficult. Celia mostly just needed someone to advise her on which rocks to pick and keep an eye on her in case she chose the wrong one and fell in. "Is anybody there?" she called out half-heartedly after a few more moments of contemplation, scanning the nearby sea cave area for wanderers like herself who might have more experience with this type of situation than she did.

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Celia was surprised to hear a voice, and even more surprised to see a person barreling over the edge of the cliff. She immediately assumed the worst and carefully knelt down on the rock so she was closer to the water. Her eyes were wide with concern when a head popped out of the water. Celia let out a sigh of relief. "Are you okay?" she asked. Wait, I know that guy, don't I...? He called her by name and she nodded, the day at the beach with the dog and the kid and Grayson suddenly coming back to her. "Yeah, Celia, and you're, uh, Alaric or Al or something, right? I'm doing pretty well, except for, you know, the being stuck on a rock part." She laughed despite her discomfort. "I was looking for sea glass. Uh, are you sure it's okay to be swimming in that? The water looks kind of vicious." Celia did not totally trust the ocean on a good day, and now there were rocks to worry about, too. "I did not originally intend to go swimming or rock climbing, but I guess I got carried away. Didn't realize it was this far out." She straightened up again, keeping her balance, to avoid the water. Celia did not understand how Alaric could just float on his back without an apparent care in the world. Different people take to different things, she reminded herself. Just be glad you didn't get stuck somewhere deeper. Celia squinted in the sunlight. Even if Al had no problem with the water, hadn't he said something about bruises? "Sorry, did you hurt your back? That jump looked pretty painful."

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"Sea glass is, like, random pieces of glass and broken bottles and stuff that got swept away in the ocean and wash up all frosted and pretty. I kind of collect it," Celia explained with a chuckle. She'd worn her rope bracelet instead of the sea glass one she'd made, or she would have shown him. He turned to show her his back, but if that was supposed to prove he was okay, Celia was not convinced. "It looks red," she fretted. She was about to add something onto that when some ocean spray nipped at her feet. Right, okay, focus. If he says he's fine, you can postpone worrying about that until later. She scooted over as he climbed up on the rock with her, which Celia wasn't sure was the best idea due to its small size, but she wasn't going to argue. Al appeared to know what he was doing, or at least be willing to try and help. He questioned which way she'd been heading and Celia pointed back to land. "In, definitely. I mean, out of the water. Back to shore. The sea glass can be found another day." She shrugged and spread her arms out a bit so she'd have a better chance of not falling off.

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"Of course. I would be honored to have you tag along. Plus, you've already proven yourself useful, haven't you?" she teased. Celia sometimes worried that her hobby was a little boring, so it was nice to have someone show interest. She flinched instinctively when Al jumped back into the water. Maybe it's not as treacherous as it looks? she hoped. Celia knew that if she had kids or a younger sibling, she would probably never let them swim here, but Al's success in navigating the rocks was encouraging. He reappeared and  asked her about swimming in the jeans. Celia resisted the urge to bite her lip from the nerves. "I don't mind," she said with a shrug. "Not like I really have any other options anyway, right?" It wasn't getting her jeans all soggy that bothered Celia; it was the added weight her mind kept warning her they would bring. Stop it, she told herself. The water's shallow. You could probably see the floor if it weren't moving around so much. Even if they drag you down, there's not much down to go to. Suck it up and swim. Celia planted a bright smile on her face and crouched on the rock. Carefully, step by step, she made her way into the water, hanging on to the rock with her hands. "Okay!" she exclaimed. "In the water. In the ocean. Surrounded by sharp rocks. In jeans." The aforementioned article of clothing was indeed heavier. It wasn't too much to handle at the moment, though. Celia cleared her throat. "Shallow water." She couldn't quite touch the ground with her feet, but she had a feeling that she was almost there. "Um, lead the way, please? And thanks."

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Celia laughed when Al assured her that he'd carry her back if there was an issue, but she was genuinely touched. The fact that they hardly knew eachother and yet he could just say something like that so casually led her to believe that Al was a very sweet person. She clasped his hand tightly when he offered it, trying to rely on it as little as possible. It was nice to have a sort of safety rope, and it was a welcome reminder that she wasn't alone out here. An anchor. Celia kicked lightly under the water with her feet, guiding herself along after him and using her free hand to keep her head afloat against the weight of her soaked jeans. Celia knew that she might technically have an easier time treading water with both hands available, but she figured that the water itself wasn't as much of a problem as her fear of drowning. If she let go of Al's hand, she'd be surrounded by water and a few rocks, and she didn't like that feeling at all. That was the type of feeling that led to panic, so she kept a steady grip and hoped she wasn't dragging him back too much. She didn't like having to be rescued, but she'd rather damage her pride than drown. That was a mistake, Celia realized. Just maybe don't think about drowning so much. Or how your feet aren't touching the ground and it's like there's an endless empty abyss under you that just keeps going down and down and down... even though it's probably only a few inches past your toes.

Celia pushed forward, her free hand circling furiously to keep her head up. Al told her not to think about the ground and she would have grinned if she wasn't worried about accidentally swallowing seawater. "Okay, um, thank you," she  said, kicking so her mouth remained above the waterline long enough for her to finish speaking. He then asked her about her favorite color as a distraction and her eyes lit up. "Oh, I love blue. Maybe not so much dark, deep water, scary blue, but, light blue, maybe some green or purple. Cool colors. You should see the colors you can get on sea glass." Celia relaxed her limbs for a second so he could pull her over to the side of the cave. "What's yours?" She liked having something else to hold onto, but if Al needed them to stay close to the cave wall, that meant there must be deeper water coming up. Celia drew in a shaky breath. It was, what, eight years ago? Can't you get over this now? Just until we make it back to shore? Celia did genuinely believe that they would make if back to shore relatively unharmed, but there was always that nagging doubt in the back of her mind, and it got stronger with every stroke forward they took. "It's getting deeper, right?" She said aloud, surprised by how relatively calm her voice could sound in this situation. "But it's the same. It's just like swimming on the surface, when the floor is only slightly out of reach. There's just a lot more water and a much further way down." Lorcan's gonna be so pissed. She blinked a few times to clear her vision, and looked over at Alaric. "So, otters are great."

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Celia could only bring herself to give Alaric a weak smile in return when he said it was 100 meters. That sounded like a lot to her paranoid brain, but she knew it wasn't actually that far. But how deep is it? 15 feet? 20 feet? 50? 100? That was another thing that scared her, the not knowing. If she looked down and saw empty dark blue beneath her, Celia knew she'd freak out, but all she knew right now was that her feet were definitely not touching the bottom. It could be pretty shallow, 100 meters isn't that far, she tried to convince herself, but she couldn't help thinking that maybe it was deeper here, maybe if she stopped moving or let go of Al's hand she would just sink down, down, down, down, down forever. Celia shook her head, only the very top of which was still dry. Her ponytail had fallen out a little ways back, and most of her hair was dripping, a few strands of it stuck to her neck. "Just... very not fond of it," she corrected, kicking off the wall and swimming along after Al. Every muscle in her body felt tense, like her mind had convinced the rest of her that she didn't belong here. Celia kept her eyes on Alaric's face, though she didn't understand how he was easily swimming backwards, pulling another person along, while she was having such difficulty just swimming normally. She made sure not to look down, and was doing okay for about 10 meters when, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a blurry figure off in the distance, sitting on the beach. She remembered seeing something like that before, far away, a long time ago, and the random beachgoer suddenly morphed into her oldest brother. Celia froze. Her legs refused to move and she felt the water level rise on her face. The weight of her jeans tugged down on her, gently suggesting that she should slip underwater completely. Celia's fight-or-flight instinct roared into action, and she kicked desperately once she found herself able to use her legs again, but a heavy current shoved her backwards, and her hands were detached from Al's grip.

Celia gasped, having grown accustomed to the comforting presence, and the next thing she knew she was enveloped in water. Alone in the ocean, again. Her head was spinning, her pulse was racing, and she hadn't had time to take a proper breath before she went under. This time you're the one that gets left behind. She struggled to remember how to float up, and she'd only made it up for a second to get a half-air, half-water breath and a choked "Al!" when the water swept her under again. It's come back to claim you. You won't escape twice. Celia hadn't realized how much of her weight Al had been taking, or how heavy her jeans truly were, soaked with water. She flailed her limbs, her mind too panicked to think of any logical reaction. The most productive thing she could get was up, up, up. In her frantic state, she could only focus on releasing herself from the downward pull. Pants. Celia's hands flew to the waistband of her jeans, which she was pretty sure were now the most easily destroyed enemy, since she couldn't exactly fight the ocean. She pushed them down over her hips until they were hanging off her feet and sunk into the deep. Celia hadn't bothered to specifically put on swimsuit bottoms since she hadn't expected to get stuck, but luckily she'd preferred to wear boyshorts for comfort, anyway, which offered a bit more coverage, and her shirt was fairly long. Some swimsuits would have actually shown even more skin, though they would have been, at least, suited for swimming. She didn't care much about that right now though, seeing as the ocean currently seemed to be trying to eat her. Getting rid of her heavy jeans helped a lot, but Celia still was working on trying to remember how to swim. She flung her arms around in the water, but it didn't seem to do much more than prevent her from naturally floating. She didn't know which was was up anymore, until the tips of her fingers broke the surface and she propelled herself in that direction. The ocean *cough*Rainy*cough* apparently was reluctant to let her go, though, because drama is fun? another current sent her spinning and Celia lost her bearings once again.

#whatwasthatisaidaboutnotdrowning #becauseuh #whoops? #ididntevenintendthisoriginallybutwhatthehell #draaaammmaaa #awyisss #nopantsnoproblemxDD

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Outfit, currently without the jeans or ponytail and covered in saltwater

Celia didn't see Al through the water, but she felt something pulling her up to the air. Air, Celia's head broke the surface and she gasped, her lungs demanding oxygen. Her throat was burning, her muscles were exhausted, and her eyes stung from the saltwater. The feeling was, unfortunately, familiar, but she'd almost forgotten the actual sensation of having swallowed so much water that she could have sworn her throat was shrinking under her skin. Celia blinked several times, trying to clear her vision, and Al's face slowly faded into view. He was saying something, but her ears were ringing, and she could only make out a few words. Breathe, Celia's rapidly numbing mind echoed. Breathing is important. She twisted her head to the side to avoid Al's hand that was under her chin and coughed up water. She was already covered in water from head to toe, and she needed it to be out of her body. Celia tried not to lean on Al too much, seeing his head go under the water a few times. She wanted to thank him profusely or apologize or something, but her voice refused to work. Celia was phasing in and out of consciousness when she saw a familiar dog appear out of the corner of her eye, followed by a boat. She looked up, and some part of her brain recognized the other figure on it, so she forced one of her tired arms to latch on to the side. She turned to check on Al before even attempting to climb on deck, worried that basically carrying her had been too much for him.

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Celia was extremely frustrated with herself. Stupid, stupid drowning. Stupid ocean. Stupid sea glass, stupid rocks, stupid jeans, stupid Celia. She didn't know where this rush of anger came from, but although she didn't like it, she preferred it to desperation. She was tired of being desperate, tired of being afraid. Why do you even go near the ocean? You're putting yourself at risk, you're putting other people at risk, and you don't even like the water! It's stupid and pointless and if you're going to surround yourself with water, at least learn how to freaking swim when you're more than 12 feet deep. She suddenly realized she was on the boat, and that someone was speaking to her. It was all kind of a blur. Something hit her cheek and Al's face swam into her vision. She blinked, clearing the residue of saltwater from her eyes. Her lungs felt mostly free of water by now, and the only reminder she had of her water freakout incident was being sopping wet, cold, and exhausted. Celia took a harsh breath in before speaking. She'd missed oxygen. "Um, thanks. I think I'm fine," she said quietly. How were you supposed to face someone after that? "Where are we?" Celia lifted her head and looked around. "Gray?" she questioned, rather surprised at the familiar face. When had he gotten there? "Sorry." Celia wasn't entirely sure what she was apologizing for, but even disoriented, it seemed appropriate. She hadn't intended to hijack anyone's day, or this tiny boat.

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Celia waited for her head to stop spinning before she replied. Really? She thought in disbelief. Grayson just happened to be out on a boat in this area at the exact moment we needed him? She pressed her lips together, tasting sea salt. Today could have ended very differently. Just stop questioning it and appreciate the coincidence. Celia looked up at the mention of jeans. Al seemed disappointed that he'd lost them, but she hadn't even realized he'd got them back in the first place. She tucked her legs under herself more tightly. "Don't worry about it, I didn't expect for them to be anywhere but at the bottom of the ocean, but thanks" she said with a little smile. "Besides, they were probably last season or something, right?" Celia shrugged. She heard Gray question the lack of pants and crossed her arms, keeping her head slightly tilted down. She wasn't mad at him - how could she be, with what had just happened? She just felt sort of self-conscious. Oh, crap, she thought as something dawned on her. My brother really is going to kill me. "They were dragging me down, so we pulled them off," she said quietly.  "They were doing more harm than good." She glanced at the surface of the ocean, which looked so much calmer and more unthreating than it had a minute ago. She wondered if her pants would reach the bottom, or be washed up. Like a sacrifice.  Celia lifted her head again to face the others. This is more coverage than a swimsuit anyway, right? "Um, how far is it? Back to land?"