07. spam

[godsays]

[ He builds you, in his mind, from the slivers of sight and sound that fall through the cracks of your world into his. He catches the curve of your hand, the glance of sunlight off of hat and hair, through the gaps of rope and rigging and rail. He goes still, and lets himself sink, and listens to the muffled half-sounds that hum in the water against his skin. He can hear your voice, from the dim-and-dullness, the quiet riot.

He is a patch of pale skin and a long, winding tail distorted by restless water. He is intrigued, but he is... shy? Cautious.

He will follow you anywhere there is water to swim. ]

[ ooc: Zane is a merperson who is spying on everyone, particularly people he finds intriguing or dangerous. This is especially open to people that we've plotted/discussed him stalking, but also open to... yep, pretty much everyone who wants to spot a mercreeper.

Also available for general interaction for fellow water-and-island-creatures! ]

Comments

[godsays]

I was just interested.

[ Somewhat defensive. ]

I'm not like a human.

[patheticvillain]

Right, you were interested. In me.

[He's smirking, now.]

I can see that, of course, you've got a spike in your chest. Plus a tail.

[godsays]

Better than your little forked things. Stronger, too.

[patheticvillain]

Well, I see that too, you threw me in the water. And it sort of hurt.

Have you ever wanted to walk on land?

[godsays]

I can walk on land. It's not special.

[patheticvillain]

Oh.

[And. Now he's sulking. Why can't he have a tail when he wants to? This is unfair.]

But you've never seen a city.

[godsays]

[ He can. It hurts, though. Every step, constant pain. ]

You've never seen a reef. Or breathed in salt-water.

Having a tail is better.

[patheticvillain]

What's it like? All those things.

. . . Don't show me, by the way.

[godsays]

What should I do, then?

I'm not good with your words.

[patheticvillain]

What are you good at?

[godsays]

Killing.

Swimming.

Listening.

[patheticvillain]

Ha. In that order?

[godsays]

I didn't put them in any particular order.

[ He pauses, and considers.

He shifts, then, sliding much of his tail into the water. ]

Come here.

[ And if Cassel does, he'll guide Cassel's hand to touch his scales, underwater. They are slick in the water, warm. ]

Swimming is like this. The ocean is smooth, and I am smooth when I move through it. I breathe it...

[ He touches his throat, and his gills flutter open. Right now, he uses his lungs. Otherwise he couldn't speak. ]

It moves through me as I move through it.

[patheticvillain]

[He does. That's how curious he is, and how stupid. The feel of Zane's scales are baffling, wholly new, and he frowns, unfocused with concentration.]

That's . . . not what it's like up here.

[Maybe he's right, maybe it's better.]

[godsays]

I know. The air is too thin to feel. Even when it's moving you barely feel it. And everything is so quiet...

It's like you're numb.

[ He doesn't knock Cassel's hand away. He doesn't seem to mind touch. ]

[patheticvillain]

[He traces the outline of one scale, still frowning.]

I don't want to be.

[Then he lifts his hand, lets it hover over the spike. A question.]

Do you like the sound of water pressed against your ears all the time? It doesn't make you feel - [What is that word.] Stifled?

[godsays]

[ Zane gives a little shiver; the edges of the scales are sensitive to touch.

His eyes are wary on Cassel. He keeps an eye out for any hostile moves, any weapons, but slowly nods. Permission. ]

No. Sound is better, down there. It carries longer. It hums - you can feel it inside you.

[patheticvillain]

[No weapons. His hands are bare. His eyes are honest.]

[The spike, when he touches it, is not as cold as he expected.]

Like a song?

[godsays]

Not like a song. You can hear the songs. Of dolphins and whales. It carries and echoes.

[ The metal is warm, from his body. But there's something odd about it, something unnerving, and not just in its placement. The longer Cassel touches it, the stranger he will feel. ]

[patheticvillain]

I heard a song last night. Not a whale.

[The blunt end of it's strange. After a few minutes he jolts, suddenly off-kilter and unsure why.]

[Doesn't move away, though.]

[godsays]

[ No one has ever dared to come this close, to touch the spike for this long. No one except, perhaps, Eliza, the other odd one, of the merpeople. ]

What, then?

[patheticvillain]

[He's unfocused again, remembering and trying to ignore the not-rightness in the tips of his fingers.]

Something . . . that I wanted. And couldn't steal.

[godsays]

What you can't steal...

What isn't yours to take. Why isn't it?

[patheticvillain]

Because I don't think she exists at all.

[He jolts again, forces a smile, and pulls away, trailing his fingers in the water. His knuckles brush against Zane's tail again.]

It's all right, I'm probably insane. Too much time at sea and all that.

[godsays]

[ The tail shifts, tenses, relaxes. ] The sea speaks the language of insanity.

I speak the language of the sea.