The cliffs looked so much taller from below. Harsher, with their ragged edges and stones that gave way at some point to the sand.

Malachi sat beneath, tucked away in the shadows they cast where the temperature was only slightly cooler. Couldn’t say how long he’d been out there – only that he’d wandered down from the cliff’s edge some time before the sun came up, and he’d spent the hours in between watching the rising light glitter off the sea.

It was the sound of shuffling fabrics that alerted him to someone else’s presence. He turned his head, caught sight of what appeared to be a woman wading into the water, a little farther down the beach.

Was that… safe? The waters were tame enough, but swimming alone?

Finally he rose, dusting the sand from his clothes. For the first time in far too long, he’d forgone a cassock and Roman collar for more simple attire instead. A shirt, plain white, a loose thing he’d found in the church, tucked haphazardly into the trousers he usually wore beneath his robes.

He’d intended on reminding himself that he was just as uncomfortable in normal clothes as he was in those of a priest. It wasn’t working.

Malachi made his way down the beach, keeping a casual eye on the woman in the water.

“Careful,” he called, and then joked, “those harsh waves might pull you under.”