Other threads in this questline~
[Gunvorton, Surrounding Waters] New Waters I.
[Gunvorton, Surrounding Waters] New Waters II.
[Gunvorton, Surrounding Waters] Land Legs. 12th Ymiden, 722.
The fisherman's beach, a day or two's swim from Gunvorton.
Morning.
In the grey waters of the grey morning, Areia let out a long breath and descended a little deeper into the waves. Areia had gotten her land legs, and the long, lumbering legs lay out behind her now, light grey in the grey and green morning, while she lay on her belly in the low waves on the fisherman's beach.
Areia breathed out, descending in the waves til only her dark eyes and the pointed tips of her greyish ears were visible in the low grey waves. She had gotten her land legs ~she was in her land body~ and because of that she held her breath in the water, not breathing the water in. Low in the waves, holding her breath, she watched the fisherman load up his boat.
The fisherman did not see her in the low grey waves. Areia was wrapped loosely in dark kelp, her long dark hair blending in with the kelp's long fibers. The loose movement of the kelp in the waves obscured what little movements Areia made~ mostly the movements of her metered breathing.
Other than that, the fisherman did not see her because he was distracted. The little mer in the translucent dwelling was hungry, hungry, hungry and the fisherman had to go out on his boat to get the little mer its fish. Because of that, Areia watched him load up his boat, and then go out to the waters.
With the fisherman gone, his boat a dark blot on the distant grey waters, Areia rose out of the low grey waves. The dark kelp and the dark waters sluiced down the length of her lithe land body, and Areia walked onto the cool green beach.
It was not the first time that Areia had walked, but it might be the second time, and Areia walked lumberingly, stumblingly, up the slope of the green beach. Up in the sky, the grey morning split, and silvery-white light shone down in lovely, lonely rays. Looking up, Areia wondered briefly at the beauty of the sky.
Looking not at the fisherman's boat ~the distant boat was no longer of interest to her~ but looking at the transclucent dwelling the fisherman had built, the dwelling glinting green and silver and white with the cool morning light, Areia wondered at the fisherman's folly.
Inside the translucent dwelling, the little mer looked at Areia with the wild malice of the sixling~ the mer who were too little and too wild to be inducted into a mer tribe. It looked at her, and it gnashed its little pointed teeth, and it said to Areia in the way that it had said to the fisherman~
"hungry, hungry, hungry".
The little mer's words were not words, not in the way that older mer's words were. Its words were intent, but that was it. There was no language in its words, no mindfulness, no beauty. Its intent was base, and delivered with the gnashing of the little mer's pointed teeth.
Because it was the only response Areia would deign to the little mer, Areia gnashed her big pointed teeth back at the little mer. In response to Areia's gnashing, the little mer skittered at the translucent walls of the dwelling. In its gnashing and its skittering, Areia knew that it would like to devour her.
It was adorable that the little mer thought it would be able to do that.
Outside the translucent dwelling, Areia investigated the dwelling's walls.
Areia walked warily up to one of the translucent dwelling's walls, and ~seeing the little mer skitter at the walls in its malice, touching the walls~ she waited only a moment longer before touching the wall herself, gently, with one pointed hand. She did not know what to expect of the translucent dwelling ~whether its touch would be biting~ but its touch was not biting. The translucent dwelling was smooth to the touch, and green, and cool to the touch like the green beach beneath her pointed feet.
Inside the translucent dwelling's walls, the little mer gnashed and gnarled, skittered and snarled~ but Areia ignored it. She was busy investigating.
But the little mer would not be ignored.
"out, out, out" the little mer said to her intently.
"I will get you out," Areia said to it, "But you will wait because I do not know what this~"
"out, out, out" the little mer said, and Areia gnashed her pointed teeth at it.
Glaring at the little mer, who was swimming in wild circles in a whirl of chaotic, wild energy, Areia looked at it glaringly for long moments. She was busy investigating!
She glared while she investigated the translucent dwelling.
The translucent dwelling was big, Areia noted, big like the fisherman's other dwelling, the dwelling he himself lived in. It was mostly made of the translucent material, though there were other materials in its make~ wood, stone, metal, and other materials, besides. Its materials were land materials, and because of that they were materials that Areia did not know a lot about.
The translucent material of the dwelling was like stone, she thought touching it~ like crystalline stone. But, it was not like the crystalline stone that Areia had touched. The translucent material was like but not like crystalline stone, with the clearness of water, with the lightness of light, with the coolness and the color of the cool green beach.
It would have been wonderful, the translucent material, but it was of the fisherman's folly. Because of that, it was not.
Unbinding the little purplish blade that was bound to her lithe land body, Areia touched the blade lightly to the translucent dwelling's wall. The blade did not mark the dwelling's wall when it touched it. But there was a light sound when Areia touched the blade to the wall, like the sound of metal touching metal, but not like it, too. Momentarily interested by the sound of it, Areia touched the blade lightly to the translucent wall, once more, twice more, more times than that, listening to it. "out, out" the little mer said, but Areia said to it, "Quiet, sixling, I am listening to the~"
There was a gentle touch on Areia's arm, and whirling in shock of the touch, Areia brought the little purplish blade to~
to the fisherman's throat. The fisherman stood there, beside her, his soft gnarled hand touching her arm. He stood there, and Areia stood there, the both of them momentarily transfixed by the sight of the other.
Then the fisherman said, "Areia?" in his soft, spoken voice, and it broke the moment. Areia backtracked out of the fisherman's touch, the little purplish blade still pointed at his soft throat. "Areia?" the fisherman said once more, the shock of seeing her in his eyes. This time, though, he was not transfixed. He stepped toward her, his hand out.
"out, out" the little mer said, and this time Areia did not ignore it. Out! she thought to herself. She shifted on the fisherman's beach to run.
But the fisherman's soft gnarled hand was there on her arm, gripping it now, and the fisherman's beach was there, the sand of the beach shifting and slipping beneath her when she shifted to run. She spilled onto the sand, the fisherman spilling with her, the blade landing softly in the sand beside her. The fisherman was there, overtop her, near.
"Areia?" he said, still in shock. "Areia,
Areia thought of the time that she was trapped in the fisherman's gentle grip, the time that his gentle, gnarled hands had tended to her wounds, the time that he had healed her. She thought of the time that her life was held gently, inexorably in those old, gnarled hands. She thought of it, and she looked at the little mer skittering, and she looked at its little pointed teeth biting pointlessly and its little pointed hands gouging pointlessly at the translucent dwelling's cool and inexorable strength.
Mer's lives were not the fisherman's to hold.
"Do not touch me," Areia said to the fisherman, and his grip loosened on her arm.
"
[Gunvorton, Surrounding Waters] New Waters I.
[Gunvorton, Surrounding Waters] New Waters II.
[Gunvorton, Surrounding Waters] Land Legs. 12th Ymiden, 722.
The fisherman's beach, a day or two's swim from Gunvorton.
Morning.
In the grey waters of the grey morning, Areia let out a long breath and descended a little deeper into the waves. Areia had gotten her land legs, and the long, lumbering legs lay out behind her now, light grey in the grey and green morning, while she lay on her belly in the low waves on the fisherman's beach.
Areia breathed out, descending in the waves til only her dark eyes and the pointed tips of her greyish ears were visible in the low grey waves. She had gotten her land legs ~she was in her land body~ and because of that she held her breath in the water, not breathing the water in. Low in the waves, holding her breath, she watched the fisherman load up his boat.
The fisherman did not see her in the low grey waves. Areia was wrapped loosely in dark kelp, her long dark hair blending in with the kelp's long fibers. The loose movement of the kelp in the waves obscured what little movements Areia made~ mostly the movements of her metered breathing.
Other than that, the fisherman did not see her because he was distracted. The little mer in the translucent dwelling was hungry, hungry, hungry and the fisherman had to go out on his boat to get the little mer its fish. Because of that, Areia watched him load up his boat, and then go out to the waters.
With the fisherman gone, his boat a dark blot on the distant grey waters, Areia rose out of the low grey waves. The dark kelp and the dark waters sluiced down the length of her lithe land body, and Areia walked onto the cool green beach.
It was not the first time that Areia had walked, but it might be the second time, and Areia walked lumberingly, stumblingly, up the slope of the green beach. Up in the sky, the grey morning split, and silvery-white light shone down in lovely, lonely rays. Looking up, Areia wondered briefly at the beauty of the sky.
Looking not at the fisherman's boat ~the distant boat was no longer of interest to her~ but looking at the transclucent dwelling the fisherman had built, the dwelling glinting green and silver and white with the cool morning light, Areia wondered at the fisherman's folly.
Inside the translucent dwelling, the little mer looked at Areia with the wild malice of the sixling~ the mer who were too little and too wild to be inducted into a mer tribe. It looked at her, and it gnashed its little pointed teeth, and it said to Areia in the way that it had said to the fisherman~
"hungry, hungry, hungry".
The little mer's words were not words, not in the way that older mer's words were. Its words were intent, but that was it. There was no language in its words, no mindfulness, no beauty. Its intent was base, and delivered with the gnashing of the little mer's pointed teeth.
Because it was the only response Areia would deign to the little mer, Areia gnashed her big pointed teeth back at the little mer. In response to Areia's gnashing, the little mer skittered at the translucent walls of the dwelling. In its gnashing and its skittering, Areia knew that it would like to devour her.
It was adorable that the little mer thought it would be able to do that.
Outside the translucent dwelling, Areia investigated the dwelling's walls.
Areia walked warily up to one of the translucent dwelling's walls, and ~seeing the little mer skitter at the walls in its malice, touching the walls~ she waited only a moment longer before touching the wall herself, gently, with one pointed hand. She did not know what to expect of the translucent dwelling ~whether its touch would be biting~ but its touch was not biting. The translucent dwelling was smooth to the touch, and green, and cool to the touch like the green beach beneath her pointed feet.
Inside the translucent dwelling's walls, the little mer gnashed and gnarled, skittered and snarled~ but Areia ignored it. She was busy investigating.
But the little mer would not be ignored.
"out, out, out" the little mer said to her intently.
"I will get you out," Areia said to it, "But you will wait because I do not know what this~"
"out, out, out" the little mer said, and Areia gnashed her pointed teeth at it.
Glaring at the little mer, who was swimming in wild circles in a whirl of chaotic, wild energy, Areia looked at it glaringly for long moments. She was busy investigating!
She glared while she investigated the translucent dwelling.
The translucent dwelling was big, Areia noted, big like the fisherman's other dwelling, the dwelling he himself lived in. It was mostly made of the translucent material, though there were other materials in its make~ wood, stone, metal, and other materials, besides. Its materials were land materials, and because of that they were materials that Areia did not know a lot about.
The translucent material of the dwelling was like stone, she thought touching it~ like crystalline stone. But, it was not like the crystalline stone that Areia had touched. The translucent material was like but not like crystalline stone, with the clearness of water, with the lightness of light, with the coolness and the color of the cool green beach.
It would have been wonderful, the translucent material, but it was of the fisherman's folly. Because of that, it was not.
Unbinding the little purplish blade that was bound to her lithe land body, Areia touched the blade lightly to the translucent dwelling's wall. The blade did not mark the dwelling's wall when it touched it. But there was a light sound when Areia touched the blade to the wall, like the sound of metal touching metal, but not like it, too. Momentarily interested by the sound of it, Areia touched the blade lightly to the translucent wall, once more, twice more, more times than that, listening to it. "out, out" the little mer said, but Areia said to it, "Quiet, sixling, I am listening to the~"
There was a gentle touch on Areia's arm, and whirling in shock of the touch, Areia brought the little purplish blade to~
to the fisherman's throat. The fisherman stood there, beside her, his soft gnarled hand touching her arm. He stood there, and Areia stood there, the both of them momentarily transfixed by the sight of the other.
Then the fisherman said, "Areia?" in his soft, spoken voice, and it broke the moment. Areia backtracked out of the fisherman's touch, the little purplish blade still pointed at his soft throat. "Areia?" the fisherman said once more, the shock of seeing her in his eyes. This time, though, he was not transfixed. He stepped toward her, his hand out.
"out, out" the little mer said, and this time Areia did not ignore it. Out! she thought to herself. She shifted on the fisherman's beach to run.
But the fisherman's soft gnarled hand was there on her arm, gripping it now, and the fisherman's beach was there, the sand of the beach shifting and slipping beneath her when she shifted to run. She spilled onto the sand, the fisherman spilling with her, the blade landing softly in the sand beside her. The fisherman was there, overtop her, near.
"Areia?" he said, still in shock. "Areia,
it's you, isn't it? It's you
?" His hand gripped her arm tightly. Areia thought of the time that she was trapped in the fisherman's gentle grip, the time that his gentle, gnarled hands had tended to her wounds, the time that he had healed her. She thought of the time that her life was held gently, inexorably in those old, gnarled hands. She thought of it, and she looked at the little mer skittering, and she looked at its little pointed teeth biting pointlessly and its little pointed hands gouging pointlessly at the translucent dwelling's cool and inexorable strength.
Mer's lives were not the fisherman's to hold.
"Do not touch me," Areia said to the fisherman, and his grip loosened on her arm.
"
You speak
?" he said to her, but Areia did not know his words.