intheheart (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
intheheart) wrote2014-01-01 08:44 pm
intheheart) wrote2014-01-01 08:44 pm
Entry tags:
Immersion
Title: Immersion
Rating: PG
Summary: Gina is the water.
Warnings: sexism, mention of abuse (nonspecific).
She always loved the water.
Her mother said she had swum before she could walk, paddling after her aunts in the great lake behind their house. It was cold, the others said, but she never felt it; it seemed like an embrace to her.
She could not drown. Other children avoided the water but she feared nothing there. She was safe in the water, whether lake or pool, buoyed up and protected.
It was odd, perhaps, this fascination for immersion that extended even to bathtubs, but it never felt strange to her.
Perhaps that was the oddest thing of all.
--
In Gina's family they did not speak of what they were, so she was wholly surprised when, on the day she reached the age of five, her mother called her into a room filled with her aunts and told her the truth.
"I don't understand," Gina said, for she had never heard the word rusalka before.
Her mother sighed, and shook her head. "You are young," she said, as she would speak of a disappointment. "Perhaps in time..."
But Gina's aunts, all of them as slim and beautiful as her mother, shook their heads and tsked, and Gina felt ashamed.
--
At seven she caught the first inkling of understanding, when a boy down the street took her doll, and rage bubbled up in her like a geyser. "Give it back," she said, and he only laughed, and she clenched her fists and snarled a noise she had never known she could make, and he dropped her doll and fled and left her wondering.
"It is your heritage," her mother said when she asked. "You must be very careful now not to hurt anyone."
Gina had never concieved of herself as someone who could hurt another. The thought was oddly exhilerating.
--
At ten she showed the first signs of the unearthly loveliness her mother and aunts shared, as her breasts budded and her hips began to curve. Her hair had always been blonde and her eyes blue, but now they seemed preternaturally so; her skin seemed to glow from within, and sometimes she felt she was made of liquid, flowing rather than walking.
She'd always loved to swim, but now it seemed everything to her; release and belonging all in one. Home. It was home.
"Be careful," her mother said, still. "Don't hurt anyone."
Gina shrugged, and returned to the water.
--
She was fifteen when she hurt someone.
She knew that he'd lied. She did not know how she knew it, but she did. She knew too that the girl he had lied to had lost and would lose much more than he had ever imagined, and that he did not care.
She nearly drowned him. He nearly died.
Her mother fussed, of course. Her aunts stroked her hair and told her she was a good girl. The police were suspicious, but they had no proof—they had to let her go.
Gina did not know how to feel about it.
--
She was safer in the water.
She could be a girl again, a child who knew nothing. An infant, who did not eye others warily, who did not fear her own power.
No, it was not even that. In the water she was nothing, no woman or rusalka or demon. She was liquid only, a part of the world, free in a way no one else could know. There were no names to call her because she had no name. She was as she had ever been.
She could not stay immersed forever, but oh, how she longed for it.
Rating: PG
Summary: Gina is the water.
Warnings: sexism, mention of abuse (nonspecific).
She always loved the water.
Her mother said she had swum before she could walk, paddling after her aunts in the great lake behind their house. It was cold, the others said, but she never felt it; it seemed like an embrace to her.
She could not drown. Other children avoided the water but she feared nothing there. She was safe in the water, whether lake or pool, buoyed up and protected.
It was odd, perhaps, this fascination for immersion that extended even to bathtubs, but it never felt strange to her.
Perhaps that was the oddest thing of all.
--
In Gina's family they did not speak of what they were, so she was wholly surprised when, on the day she reached the age of five, her mother called her into a room filled with her aunts and told her the truth.
"I don't understand," Gina said, for she had never heard the word rusalka before.
Her mother sighed, and shook her head. "You are young," she said, as she would speak of a disappointment. "Perhaps in time..."
But Gina's aunts, all of them as slim and beautiful as her mother, shook their heads and tsked, and Gina felt ashamed.
--
At seven she caught the first inkling of understanding, when a boy down the street took her doll, and rage bubbled up in her like a geyser. "Give it back," she said, and he only laughed, and she clenched her fists and snarled a noise she had never known she could make, and he dropped her doll and fled and left her wondering.
"It is your heritage," her mother said when she asked. "You must be very careful now not to hurt anyone."
Gina had never concieved of herself as someone who could hurt another. The thought was oddly exhilerating.
--
At ten she showed the first signs of the unearthly loveliness her mother and aunts shared, as her breasts budded and her hips began to curve. Her hair had always been blonde and her eyes blue, but now they seemed preternaturally so; her skin seemed to glow from within, and sometimes she felt she was made of liquid, flowing rather than walking.
She'd always loved to swim, but now it seemed everything to her; release and belonging all in one. Home. It was home.
"Be careful," her mother said, still. "Don't hurt anyone."
Gina shrugged, and returned to the water.
--
She was fifteen when she hurt someone.
She knew that he'd lied. She did not know how she knew it, but she did. She knew too that the girl he had lied to had lost and would lose much more than he had ever imagined, and that he did not care.
She nearly drowned him. He nearly died.
Her mother fussed, of course. Her aunts stroked her hair and told her she was a good girl. The police were suspicious, but they had no proof—they had to let her go.
Gina did not know how to feel about it.
--
She was safer in the water.
She could be a girl again, a child who knew nothing. An infant, who did not eye others warily, who did not fear her own power.
No, it was not even that. In the water she was nothing, no woman or rusalka or demon. She was liquid only, a part of the world, free in a way no one else could know. There were no names to call her because she had no name. She was as she had ever been.
She could not stay immersed forever, but oh, how she longed for it.