Dione ♀

(Tribute to Aksum_Goddess) Dione often lingered on the upper level, where she could observe the world beyond the water. The specialists talked about her, around her, but rarely to her. Elias Palmer was different. A regular staff member on the island. He worked quietly, maintaining the tanks, checking water quality, ensuring everything functioned as it should. He never questioned why she watched him—just as she never questioned herself on why she kept coming back. One evening, as he adjusted a control panel near the ledge, she finally spoke. “You’re always fixing things,” she mused. “Do they ever break on purpose, just for attention?” Elias startled, nearly dropping his tools. He turned to find her watching him, arms folded against the ledge, dark eyes full of amusement. “Didn’t realize you were there.” She smirked. “You should be used to that.” He exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. “Well, if the tanks start sabotaging themselves, I’ll have a pretty good idea who to blame.” Dione tilted her head. “Maybe they just don’t like being cages.” Elias hesitated, his fingers stilling over the controls. Then, quietly, he said, “Neither do you.” Their conversations became a ritual after that. While he worked, she asked questions. About the world beyond. About the sky, the cities, the people. He told her how the ocean looked when the sun kissed its surface, how rain felt on bare skin, how sand shifted beneath bare feet. She soaked in his words, painting pictures in her mind of places she had never seen but longed to.