Chapter Text
These two lingered in my thoughts so I wrote a one-shot with them. A first-meeting scenario, before the sketch above.
Sea and sky blurred into an angry gray mass. They were on a small rocky beach, under heavy rain and a high tide.
The storm lifted a whiff of human sweat mixed with brine, grass, and dust.
The mermaid glimpsed a shadow in her peripheral vision — something massive that struggled to remain quiet.
She sensed the heartbeats, the compressed sand under its weight. The man stood soaked and still, near the retaining wall and a set of slate steps that connected the shoreline to the docklands.
Too far to snatch her, too close for comfort. Human presence was too loud to stifle.
The mermaid rested on a vast formation of jet rocks. She glanced at the black, foamy waves that boiled around her. The water swirled with predators and she felt like easy prey: Hungry, sore, tired.
She started a shaky melody, still pretending not to see the human lurking. She sang about warm currents and whirlpools and a lightning strike, casting a net around the man's mind.
Those land hunters impressed her. Dirt sharks adorned with cruel-shaped tools and sailing war vessels with which they’d loot the ocean. Building forts near the sea to pluck from it every day. Slopping the digested remains into the same waters that fed them.
Some settlements seemed less hostile and poisonous, and over the years they’d form alliances and trade with the merfolk. They still scared her.
Her melody shifted with the rumble; raindrops became its percussion.
The man who watched the mermaid was on his work break. He enjoyed spending time on that part of the coast — as it was often vacant, save for gulls and crabs.
He forgot the work, the neighborhood, himself. First in awe at the visitor, watching her, then because the creature cleared his mind.
What remained was a feeling that something was ravenous, overwhelming, spiraling. That she shouldn’t return to the ocean now.
If he lifted the creature to his chest, her tail would reach no further than his thigh.
Stepping away from the wall, the man stood between the mermaid and the sea. The waves soaked his shoes and heels; the rain was indifferent to his hat — water dribbled down his face. He twitched at the cold pang, resisting.
She shivered at the beast fighting against her spell. Sang louder until he gave in, knees and knuckles sunk in black rock and sand, deep in icy waves.
His face was finally neutral, if not for the purple paleness and spice of fixation in the eyes.
"May I have your name?" the mermaid asked.
Seconds of downpour followed. She watched the man as her tail and fins contracted — she'd jump back in the water if he lunged at her. Take a chance with the tide and other predators, but not that one .
"Yes." the giant's hollowed-out voice rang. It ticked her ears and sounded like a sunken ship.
What sort of answer was that? Did he break free?
"Well?" she tried again. Her stomach rumbled, and it could be hunger, fear, or regret.
"Jacob." Tension.
"Jacob,” she mirrored.
He wasn't able to articulate that something felt wrong nor that he had forgotten himself, “Please release me,” he said simply, to the thunder.
“You scared me. I'll release you once you're far from me. Why were you sneaking? Can you climb back the steps towards your… what's the name of… all that?” She gestured towards the docklands.
He unhurriedly followed her gesture with his gaze. To part from her vision was painful. Stared blankly at the town’s railings, windows, and towers above; as if trying to understand it as well.
“That's the market, the docks and my workplace. The water plant. My home. There are many names.”
She saw no water plants , only palm trees. Those were, indeed, too many names.
The giant’s expression spasmed again as he stood up.
“Okay,” she jerked away from him, then recovered her tone, “so go back home, Jacob.”
He felt his mind clear up as he trudged away from the creature.
“We weren't expecting merpeople this week. I stopped to figure out if you were a trader,” he lied.
“I'm sorry about the rough treatment,” came the mermaid’s response, now from afar.
Jacob risked glancing back at her and caught the soft, slender figure among sharpness, stone, and foam. The long shiny tail curled around her tiny figure.
It seemed as if the rain could crush her, and the aftertaste of the spell pushed him to crawl to her side to shelter her with his own body if need be. He resisted.
He felt angry, freezing cold, and miserably weighed down by his soaked clothes. But then again, there were tales of man-markets selling merfolk in neighboring villages — no wonder the mermaid would react strongly to a stranger prowling.
Jacob shrugged. The mermaid pondered whether to offer him something, to make up for her reaction.
The giant’s voice interrupted her thoughts, but she didn't understand him.
She shook her head, “What did you say?”
“Do you like nuts? apricots? They're sodded now, I'll just leave them here.” Jacob took a handful of something from inside his clothes and left it on top of a slab before climbing back to the docks.
The mermaid waited until he was gone before gorging on the strange food.
Jacob would return weekly to the same shores. When the weather was clear, he’d pick flat stones and skip rocks on the seawater. On storms, he'd pray to the ocean goddess and leave apricots near the water.
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Long image description of this chapter's sketch:
Digital grayscale sketch emulating a pencil texture and a grainy paper. A man holds a mermaid close to his chest. She is only a few foot tall and leans against his body, her tail cascading from his arms and hands. The mermaid wears no clothing and has a side braid, plus small flowers and dots on her hair and pointy ears. The man wears a hat and a clear-colored shirt with rolled-up sleeves. His face is in shadow, barely visible. There is a rectangular shape around both characters. It has five-line musical staff and notes, like a song framing the characters.