Celeste and Nat: A Jungle Adventure of Two Unified Hearts
May 17, 2021 13:26:47 GMT
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Post by Natasha Ebonlocke on May 17, 2021 13:26:47 GMT
It was a peaceful little bay. The most powerful waves were broken by a towering rock spire a few hundred yards dead ahead that one had to look up and up and up to see the top of, a smaller one off to the right that was home to the Anglers’ stilt village over the water, and rocky outcroppings to the right and left. What was left inside was a gentle lapping of waves along a large beach that stretched the several-hundred-yard width of the bay, and a couple hundred yards back to the start of the jungle that was the Krasarang Wilds. The treeline started on an elevated shelf, several feet in height, that ran the length of the back of the beach. From this shelf grew trees of several varieties: kapok and rubber and ipe and palm and many, many more. The canopies towered overhead, and the undergrowth looked nearly impenetrable in numerous places.
The smell of the salt sea mingled heavily with the sickly-sweet smell of fish from the Anglers’ stilt village and the thick, earthy smell of the jungle’s thick vegetation and rotting leaves and logs along its forest floor. Docile sea dragons stomped by in the distance, massive Pandaren jungle turtles with steel-hard snapping beaks and sleek, sharp shells, watching over their young as they hatched from the sand, protecting them from the viseclaw crabs that hunted them. Schools of brilliantly colored fish swam in the bay itself, darting to and fro, this way and that, their patterns erratic and their reasons known seemingly only to them.
Prominent among the features of the bay was an enormous statue at the back of the beach. A Pandaren astride a sea dragon faced the wide ocean with an excited look on his face. He appeared old, immensely old. His beard was long, his hair white. He held a parasol over his head in his left hand, and a lantern in his right. He was well-dressed in his Pandaren-style robe, and he appeared confident in his mount, sitting cross-legged atop the shell rather than hugging it with his legs. Two signs stood in front of the statue. One was an old Pandaren post, with Pandaren writing. The other was a more modern-style sign, though it, too, was written in Pandaren. The post told the tale of Lui Lang, the figure depicted in the statue, who had take off on the back of a turtle to explore the world. The sign advertised the Wanderer’s Festival, which took place weekly on Sunday nights, right after sunset.
It was near the water’s edge a young woman sat. Natasha Ebonlocke, clad in a black bikini with purple trim that threatened to spill her curves, sat at the water’s edge, a tear occasionally pouring from one eye as she saw, in her mind’s eye, her lover Celeste toting her around the surface of the little waves in the bay, the pair standing on an iceberg Celeste had summoned, fishing poles in hand. Spotting a school of reef octopi a bit further out in the bay, their inky blackness making them stand out from the bright schools of fish, another tear was shed. Nat remembered riding to one of these with Celeste on her iceberg, Celeste teaching her to let her bait sink to near the sandy bay floor under the water, and to hop the tip of her rod along a bit to tempt the reef octopus. She smiled through the next tear as she remembered how very right her master angler girlfriend had been, as her novice self had caught a reef octopus almost immediately, and then had landed a few more.
Her mind wandered after that. She remembered how weird it had been to fish off the top of a mushroom and into the sea on Draenor, Celeste’s portal magic having taken them both right to an alternate timeline in which the planet hadn’t been destroyed. She remembered cooking breakfast for Celeste alongside a breathtakingly gorgeous mountain stream in the Grizzly Hills, while Celeste caught fish from the stream to add to the breakfast for them. She smiled through another tear, remembering how aghast she’d been as she watched Celeste demonstrate cleaning and gutting a fish to prep it for a meal. The meal itself had been wonderful, as had Celeste’s company after. She remembered fishing under what appeared to be a magically enchanted weeping willow in Shadowmoon Valley on Draenor. Fishing in Val’sharrah, that beautiful, wonderful enchanted forest of the Druids and the Dream. Attempting to fish in the Grove of Cenarius, only to find the water too shallow to do so. The attendant conversation and meeting her mount Nosebleed, and listening to the story of how Celeste had acquired him. So many fishing expeditions, each one deeply beloved in memory. So many wonderful conversations, so many times in which the pair merely fished in silence, smiles on their faces, enjoying each other’s presence, each one seemingly glad the other didn’t feel the need to fill in every peaceful silence with incessant jabbering, though the conversations that did happen were always intelligent and stimulating and often funny and entertaining.
And this beach. This very beach… Fishing here in this bay, atop that iceberg of hers. The first time Celeste had brought her here, when the main goal had been to calm down a friend. The return trips. The stories. The time she was hurt bad, and had to spend a weekend here recovering. The stories of Pandaren adventures and business deals. Pandaren tea and cuisine. And Celeste, always Celeste… Including the rainstorm that one day…
Another tear squeezed out. How had she been so lucky to land this incredible woman, the best catch of her life? How she missed her already, how sorely she missed her, the sun of her world, the most perfect partner one could ever hope for. She clasped her dainty hands together, staring out over the gentle little waves rolling in towards her, sometimes tickling her feet when they made it in a little further.
Nat stood, contemplating just walking out into the waves, swimming with the little fishes…
She gasped suddenly, nearly leaping a foot in the air – a pair of arms was slipping around her waist without any warning at all!