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────022, an eye for an eye.
WESLEY BENNETT HAD ONCE TOLD CLEO THAT WHEN YOU'RE RIDING A WAVE, and you're at your highest, there's only one way to go from there.
You'll fall━━whether you fumble in the adrenaline rush, slip on the board, stumble against the jolting wave, or glide to a smooth stop, you'll always fall. The high will crash, the glory will fade, and just when you think you can reach out and touch the sky, run your fingers through the clouds, it'll all stop. Just like that.
Cleo hadn't thought much of it then, albeit only because she hadn't taken a liking to surfing━━but, then again, that was because she couldn't get up on the board properly out in the ocean, uncouth little Cleo Bennett wobbling on the board beside a effortless Wesley. He had said it as words of encouragement, reminding her that even he falls in one way or another despite his masterful divinity for the sport.
What matters, he had said, is how you continue to ride that high; how you get back up.
They were words that seem to stick out to her now more so than ever before, the moment the magnificent and fantastical reality of the discovery of the gold had finally sunk in. Because this is her high━━the one she had been chasing all her life. A small worrisome thought nagged in the back of her mind, pondering what if this wasn't what she had been expecting? But it is. This much she knows for certain, the thrumming in her heart never once ceasing even after the Pogues' wild escapade the night before.
There was only up from here, Cleo had thought confidently to herself. The riches, the fame, the grandeur awaiting them the moment they finally had all the gold━━and it seemed easy enough. Or maybe that was simply just the eagerness of the Pogues, blinded by their thrilling excitement.
Still, Cleo finds herself amongst the group the very next day at the Chateau (really, though, the Pogues hadn't left it, instead too excited to leave one another's presence, sleeping the night), zealous yearning captivating her mind, body, and soul as she helps the Pogues plan their excavation.
"Hey, Cleo."
The red haired girl jumps at the sound of her voice. She'd almost forgotten she was alone with JJ now, elsewhere from the others in the shed of the Chateau. They had been put to work the moment the Pogues were all awake and gathered once more to wash the dirt and grime from the gold John B had managed to take from the night before. Whereas Cleo had thought he had only snagged one piece, she later had come to realize that he had actually taken three. Small and compact, though hefty in weight, the clean block shimmers alluringly under the summer sun as Cleo inspects one thoroughly in the palm of her hands. Embossed on the front of each brick is a wheat symbol, one that Cleo runs her thumb across again and again as she basks in her own little reverie. The plan to get more gold was set in motion, but in the meanwhile the Pogues were keen on trying to sell the three that they already currently have. Pawning it off was their best option in the smothering confines of Kildare, but no one would surely take it off of them when they were all marked. Kiara had been the one to suggest melding them together, positive that the symbol would fade under the heat.
