The Shallow Spot gothic sharp against the skin and

sharp against the skin and loud enough to swallow a shout

bound not by chains but by the fragile thread of her own yearning

knowing exactly how close you are to something that could end you if it chose to

sits neatly in the palm

unremarkable at first glance — the sort one might pass over in a drawer of trinkets or catch glinting on a widow’s wrist

The Shallow Spot gothic sharp against the skin andThe claw was brought up tangled in netting, along with a length of chain that had no business being at that depth. Ives cut it free with his knife, thumb testing the weight of it before anyone else could reach. One pincer was gone clean off, the break rounded over as if it hadnt happened recently. It still held the shape of something that once moved, jointed and curved, the copper thick in places where the sea had favoured it. A green bead sat above