On the sun-scorched shores of Aethel, the morning was progressing at a frantic, highly unhinged pace.
Saira strutted back and forth across the damp sand near the tide line, her arms crossed behind her back like an elite high-society event planner inspecting a grand ballroom.
Her silver hair was still an absolute, gravity-defying cloud of static frizz, and her clothes were stained with sea-salt and sand, but her posture radiated absolute, unshakable triumph.
“Efficiency, Crabby!
We need maximum elegance and structural grandeur!” Saira declared, making a sweeping gesture toward her leaning pile of driftwood and dried palm fronds.
“He thinks he’s playing hard to get, swimming off into the ocean like a dramatic sea-guppy.
But I know divine body language when I see it!
A man doesn’t spoon a high-born woman all night unless he is deeply, profoundly smitten.” From his perch on top of a boulder, crabby clicked his tiny pincers once, lifted a scrap of dried kelp, and slowly chewed it with supreme, silent judgment.
“Now, when he returns with those big pink pearls-which he will, because quality suitors always follow instructions-we must have a proper romantic venue prepared to receive his formal courtship,” Saira explained, pacing toward a stack of dried palm leaves.
“We can’t accept high-value ocean jewelry in a rustic estate that lacks romantic atmosphere.
We need a nuptial pavilion!
A grand reception hall for an island owner and her aquatic prince!” She turned toward her leaning, structurally compromised palm-frond villa-the very one that had barely survived the previous afternoon’s coconut bombardment-and clapped her hands together with terrifying enthusiasm and determination.
“Crabby, as Head Architect, I am appointing you Director of Romantic Ambiance,” Saira said, scooping up the little crustacean and placing him gently on a flat piece of driftwood near the front entrance of the shelter.
“First task: floral arrangements.
We need passion!
We need natural elegance!” For the next two hours, Saira threw herself into the art of primitive interior design with the maniac energy of a woman possessed by a demon.
She marched up and down the beach, harvesting every piece of brightly colored flotsam, tropical flora, and questionable marine vegetation she could find.
She draped long, slimy ribbons of purple sea-tangle over the roof poles like a velvet curtains.
She aggressively shoved bright red hibiscus flowers into the cracks of the decaying driftwood walls.
She even lined the sandy floor with a “carpet” of dried, yellowing palm fronds, stomping them flat with her boots until dust flew up into her nose and made her sneeze three times in rapid succession.
Crabby, meanwhile, did his absolute best to stay out of the way.
He scuttled onto a nearby rock, his tiny black eyes tracking her erratic movements with what looked suspiciously like judgement while occasionally raising a pincer to adjust his coconut helmet whenever Saira ran past him screaming about “spatial symmetry” and “lightning.” Saira was utterly unstoppable.
She was a woman on a mission to build a romantic masterpiece out of literal ocean garbage.
“Now, for the centerpiece!” Saira announced, wiping a thick layer of sweat and sand from her forehead.
She retrieved the two original, indestructible brown sea-coconuts-the ones that knocked both her and Eagre unconscious the day before-and set them side by side on a flat rock in the center of the pavilion.
“Look at that, Crabby,” she breathed,staring at the two identical fruits with misty, sentimental eyes.
“The very catalysts of our union.
I shall call them our ‘engagement coconuts’.
I’ll ask Eagre to crack them open with his divine sea-god strength so we can toast to our future with fresh coconut water.” She took three steps backward to admire her handiwork with her hands on her hips and a proud smile gracing her chapped lips.
The shelter, which had previously resembled a sad pile of storm debris, now looked like a sad pile of storm debris that had been violently attacked by a florist and a sea-weed monster.
The purple sea-tangle was already beginning to dry out under the noon heat, shrinking and emitting a sharp, pungent odour of decaying reef.
The hibiscus flowers were wilting rapidly, and the leaning roof pole in the center was bowing dangerously under the added weight of wet vegetation.
“It’s magnificent,” Saira whispered, dabbing a tiny tear of self-delusion from the corner of her eye with a sniffle.
“A true masterpiece of romantic architecture.
The imperial courts of the mainland could never produce something with such raw, rustic passion.” CRACK.
A sharp, warning splinter sound echoed from the main support beam of the pavilion.
Saira ignored it entirely.
“Just minor structural settling!
Every great estate goes through a settling phase!” She walked down to the water’s edge, shading her eyes with a hand as she stared out over the turquoise horizon.
The sun was approaching its peak, reflecting off the calm water like a million scattered diamonds.
“Any minute now, crabby,” Saira purred, adjusting the collar of her torn blouse and smoothing down her wild hair as best as she could.
“He’s probably down there now, hand-selecting the largest, most radiant pink pearls in the deep sea.
Poor thing must be nervous.
Presenting a formal betrothal gift to a woman of my stature is an overwhelming responsibility for an aquatic entity.” On the rock behind her, crabby suddenly tilted his eye stalks upward.
A low, deep rumble began to vibrate through the sand beneath Saira’s boots.
The calm surface of the turquoise water fifty yards out began to bubble and froth violently, turning white as a massive, high-pressure swell rose from the depths.
“Oh, look!” Saira gasped, clapping her hands together in a delight while bouncing on the balls of her feet as she spotted a dark, terrifying shape shooting toward the surface missile-like speed.
“He’s back!
And he’s brought a grand entrance!
Such drama!
Such flair!
I knew he couldn’t resist me!” She stood at the tide line in a poise of graceful, aristocratic expectancy, her chin held high, her smile wide and her sapphire eyes sparkling, ready to accept Eagre’s glowing pink tribute.