Chapter Text
I.
—
“Saw it by the water
Doing all the things for the better.”
—
Soul sighs, readjusting the tote bag on her shoulder as she stumbles rather clumsily through the thick, scalding sand that’s somehow both pleasurable and painful to the touch. A tad too hot, but a welcome warmth against the swift sea breeze. Looking skyward, she raises her other hand to shield her eyes from the sun’s burning glare.
“At least the weather’s nice…” she mutters to herself, lowering her hand and continuing her trek forward towards the shore. A horde of squealing children dash by, chasing a flying frisbee. “...Though that means more people.”
Brushing away a stray white wisp that had managed to free itself from her ponytail, she alters her course just the slightest bit, heading for a more secluded section of the beach. Seeing just a few people of about her age playing volleyball in the sand some yards away, she decides that this is good enough and drops her bag, rummaging for her towel. She finds it with a hum of victory, unrolling it and laying it flat on the sand, its dark jade coloring stark against the pastel terrain.
Moving to sit atop it, Soul reaches for her bag once more and retrieves her worn but loved sketchbook, then her pencil case. She selects a stick of charcoal, twirling it between the fingers of her left hand.
“Coming your way, Aelita!”
Soul looks up as the shout reaches her ears, glossing her eyes over to the makeshift volleyball court. A girl with golden hair tied into a fluffy ponytail uses her hands to push the ball up into the air, a perfect setup for a spike.
“Got it!” comes the returning call, a woman with lilac hair pulled tight behind her head readying her stance. Her eyes, a shade Soul can’t quite see from this angle but that burn bright nonetheless, narrow in focus as she tenses her muscles and leaps high. She strikes the volleyball with a resounding thump, the force sending it clear over the net and to the ground before the other team can so much as blink.
“Damnit!” swears a woman with wild brown hair blowing free. She crosses her arms and scowls, turning to glare at one of her partners. “The hell was that?!”
“Chill out, Venam,” one of them sighs, shaking his head in exasperation. “It’s just one round.”
“Yeah, we’ll kick their asses this time,” promises a fiery woman with equally fiery locks, the red coloring blazing in the sunlight. She confidently puts her hands on her hips, a challenging smirk on her lips. “You guys are going down.”
“Good luck with that—”
Soul tunes out the rest of the conversation, her attention drawn to the lavender-haired woman who delivered the finishing blow. Her grin is blinding, big and bright and warm as she snaps her head back and laughs freely at something one of her friends says, her arms curling over the skin of her belly not covered by her swimsuit.
Soul’s fingers twitch around her charcoal, the itch to draw growing stronger by the second. She is— Aelita is, if Soul heard correctly— nothing short of mesmerizing; a siren on the sand, prose to a poem, a muse to Soul’s artistic eye. Next thing she knows, Aelita’s likeness is being etched into her sketchbook.
A smile, soft and curving as she catches sight of a child playing in the shallows some distance away, their happy squeals drawing out a laugh. A hand held to the sky as she high-fives her blonde teammate, the two girls celebrating yet another victory. Her foot digging into the sand as she playfully kicks some up at the foul-mouthed woman across from her.
The page fills with both devoted sketches and light-hearted doodles, the tips of Soul’s fingers smudging as she expertly shades and spreads the charcoal to her will. She’s so close, just a few more lines—
“Look out!”
The warning washes over her rather suddenly, breaking her focus. She snaps her head up to see what’s happening—
—Only to be met with a face full of volleyball, throwing her backwards and knocking her flat on her back with a quiet oomph, the air leaving her lungs.
“Shit—”
“Damnit, Venam! Look what you did!”
“Fuck off, Amber! It was an accident!”
“Will you two stop bickering? Someone got hurt! We need to make sure—”
The arguing swirls in and out of Soul’s ears, not fully registering in her dazed state. She finds herself staring up at the sky, so very bright and blue.
“Oh my gosh, are you okay?!”
A gaze of lilac enters her vision, pretty and purple and riddled with worry. Soul finds herself unable to look away, held captive by their coloring. She wonders if she could recreate it with paint, perhaps with flecks of white and azure to reflect the sunny skies and crystal waters—
“Oh man,” the other woman whines, gently reaching out to loop an arm under Soul’s shoulders and guide her up into a sitting position. “Guess the ball hit you pretty hard…”
The touch is enough to finally release Soul from her haze, her eyes widening in realization. She can’t help but stiffen, hyper aware of the muscled arm coiled around her shoulders, skin to skin as the summer heat burns its way through her; as well as the amethyst eyes locked with her own, the lithe body kneeling beside her and hovering to keep close, head tilted to look at Soul and only Soul.
“...I’m fine,” she manages to say, voice quiet and cool and so very different from the blood no doubt rushing to her cheeks.
Aelita sighs in relief, visibly relaxing. She stares at Soul for several heartbeats longer, a fact that certainly isn’t helping Soul’s flushed state.
Perhaps realizing that she is, in fact, blatantly staring; Aelita jolts in place, hastily dropping her hands from Soul’s body. She laughs a tad nervously, a dust of rose making itself at home on her cheeks. She distracts herself from the vibrant green of Soul’s gaze by turning her attention to the stray sketchbook and charcoal that had been knocked from the other woman’s grasp upon impact, reaching for them.
“I’m really sorry about that,” she rambles, the fingers of her left hand shaking as they curl around the charcoal, dragging it towards her and setting it on the beach towel. One item successfully retrieved, she reaches with both hands for the other, adamantly keeping her eyes away from Soul’s. “We got carried away and next thing I knew Venam was hitting the volleyball as hard as she could—”
She pauses, eyes widening as they focus on the still-open page of Soul’s sketchbook, her own face staring back at her. But not only that, a multitude of precise, smaller drawings of her in various poses.
And every single one is beautiful.
“Oh…” she breathes, brushing the tips of her fingers ever so gently over the sandpapery page. Her hot embarrassment vanishes in an instant, something softer, calmer, taking its place; like the crackling of a hearth. She picks the tome up fully, cradling it in her hands as if it’s made of glass. “This is…”
Soul’s head tilts in confusion and she follows Aelita’s gaze. She goes from pink to pale to red in mere seconds, sheer mortification flooding her veins. How is she meant to explain that?
“...Sorry,” she settles on, no justifiable defense coming to mind. Seriously, who draws random people at the beach? She probably looks like a creep. “I originally came here to draw the shoreline. But when I saw you and your friends…”
Aelita meets her eyes at that moment, shimmering like stained glass. Soul sees purple and blue and white and—
“...I guess you became my muse instead,” she finishes, feeling uncharacteristically shy.
Aelita smiles at the words, bashfully bringing a hand to the back of her neck in a nervous gesture. Still holding the art book in her other hand, she lightly pushes it in Soul’s direction, silently bidding her to take it, to which she does.
“It’s okay,” she reassures, a soft giggle falling sweetly from her lips. She flicks her gaze down to the artwork once more, lingering, before shifting back up to Soul’s. “I don’t mind.”
“Oh,” Soul oh so eloquently replies, caught off guard. Her fingers clutch tightly at the sketchbook’s frayed edges, the roughness acting as a balm to her frazzled nerves. “Alright.”
“Actually…” Aelita continues, sinking her teeth into the skin of her bottom lip. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself, and lets it go. “I wouldn’t mind, uh, being your muse again. I mean, if you want to, of course!”
Soul blinks, the rug pulled from under her once more. She stares at the other woman, drinking in her windswept hair, stray purple wisps flowing from her high ponytail; and the blush on her cheeks, the shy yet sure gleam in her eyes.
“Yeah,” she agrees, her muscles loosening from their subconscious coiling. She grabs the edge of her latest drawing and flips it, a fresh page looking back at her. “I’d like that.”
“Great!” Aelita chirps, her features lighting up brighter than the sun. It takes Soul’s breath away. “I’m Aelita, by the way.”
“I know,” Soul wants to say, the words lingering on the tip of her tongue, tasting sweet.
“I’m Soul,” she says instead, offering a rare smile. It seems to be well-received, Aelita beaming back at her and shifting closer, the two now sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, eyes locked. “Nice to meet you.”
“Soul,” Aelita repeats, her lips curling gently over the syllables. She finds herself enjoying the way it sounds, strange and new but somehow warm and familiar. Like a dream, like a memory.
“What a lovely name.”