Pella only opened her eyes underwater when she was lost, when the currently stopped whispering directions on her skin, and she had turned too many times in the water to remember which way she had come in.
Sand under her hands was easy; she only needed to push in the opposite direction from the silky stuff to break into open air. The stones she had memorized as well as she could. When her lungs started to ache inside her chest, threatening that they knew how to light themselves on fire and burn through her, she had to open her eyes to the salt. There was no way to feel the daylight.
It shouldn’t have surprised her then, that the shifting, dusky blue of sunsets and confining water pulled hard on her nerves, while the dark hummed to her peacefully.