Prompts: Pansy Parkinson, ocean waves, and "My thoughts are always the loudest in the dead of the night."
He followed her out again. He knew she knew he was there, walking behind her. They had rowed about it once, years ago, the first time she caught him doing it. He'd refused to back down, insisting he would not allow her to be alone when she got in one of these funks. Since then, by unspoken agreement, he stayed a respectable distance back, while she chose to ignore his existence.
He wished she could chose to only do this on nights when plenty of moonlight shone to guide them. Life isn't convenient like that, though. The overcast sky made tracking her form down the beach difficult. The ocean waves created by the incoming tide washed away her footprints with cruel efficiency. She preferred the feel of the sea swirling around her ankles, moving up to caress her claves as the water undulated. There had been occasions when she came home wet up to her waist.
Tonight, he followed her for nearly three hours, pausing only once. She spotted something worthy enough of inspection to cause her to exit the surf. She walked a few feet up onto the sand, bent over and picked up an object. He never found out what it was that caught her attention – she threw it out into the water as far as she could before setting off again.
They didn't speak about what drove her to the sea. They didn't discuss what she thought or felt as she walked. The only thing he knew came from that one time, now so long ago, when they fought. Pansy had told him, "My thoughts are always the loudest in the dead of the night."