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A ship passed overheard.
Normally, Emmrich wouldn't mind. Plenty of ships traveled past this section of the continental shelf, and as one of the senior scholars of his colony, he's catalogued each one. Based off of the structure of the hull and rudder, this was the S. S. Rookery. It's a mercantile vessel that sets its course from the Waking Sea to Rialto Bay every season.
Off the top of his head, Emmrich knew that this was the right time for the ship to be doing its yearly voyage. But what concerned him was that topside, it was storming.
He watched as the ship rode the steep waves. He was due to return to the abyssal plain where his colony lived, but the current was too strong to safely travel down the continental slope. So he was forced to take shelter, shoving himself into a cramped, rocky nook in the reef. He shared the space with several wrasses that he kept a close eye on. Most fish minded their business, but wrasses were known to meddle. There's already been two that's tried to sneak a nip at his tail fin. He shoved them off, but the excitable twitching of their fins meant they were planning a second attempt.
Lightning flashed, the strike filling the reef with blue light. There was a violent crash before the subsequent thunderclap that shook through the water, scaring the fish in Emmrich's alcove. He closed his eyes, putting a webbed hand up to shield himself from the bright burst. When it was over, he peered back up to the ship. Pieces of wood drifted above, and Emmrich could see the broken tip of a foremast sinking heavily towards the ocean floor. The flames on the S. S. Rookery's deck was distorted by the water's surface, and he could see sailors plunging into the water to save their lives, their feet kicking frantically as they grabbed hold of anything to stay afloat.
Emmrich was aghast by the wreckage. The tide was still strong and from the amount of humans treading water, it would take almost his entire colony to transport them to the nearest landmass. He watched as the deck collapsed in on itself, the entire quarterdeck tipping into the ocean with a resounding splash.
Someone was in the bottom cabins. Emmrich could see it in the way the window just below the quarterdeck shook. He's not sure why the sight pushed him to act, but it did. Rock in hand, he swam over to the window and reeled his arm back to smash the glass in. It broke easily, and before he knew it there was a whole lot of human rushing into his arms. Instinctively, he clutched onto the person and swam.He knew of an island close by— he was certain he could bring the human there.
Emmrich rode the current, emerald scales glimmering with each subsequent lightning strike. The storm above raged on, making it hard to breach water so the land dweller could breath. The turbulence of the tides made it difficult to keep course, and his passenger weighed him down significantly. Still, he pushed through every resistance the ocean threw at him.
…
They made it to the island, arriving at shore in little under an hour. That was fast, considering how it normally took the same amount of time to catch a glimpse of the island from the reef. His tail ached as he struggled into a cave at the edge of the beach. He deposited the unconscious land dweller onto a sandy patch within, pulling himself onto the rocks to finally get a good look. Emmrich's only ever seen humans from afar; he always kept his distance, having grown up hearing horror stories of merfolk getting too close. From the neatly trimmed beard and the hard features, he assumed this one was a man.
The merman felt at the deep brown skin peeking from the man's open collar, releasing his magic into the his chest. There was water in his lungs— not enough to choke, but if left untreated could lead to complications. He pulled closer and took hold of the human's face, whispering an incantation before parting full lips with his own. He breathed his spell into the man's lungs and waited, lips still connected.
Suddenly, the man lurched forward, crouching to his side to cough up water. He hacked over and over, then wiped at his mouth with the sleeve of his drenched coat. Emmrich sat there and watched, feeling at his own lips. Despite his time underwater, the human's lips were still very warm against his own, and the beard tickled where it brushed against Emmrich's chin. The ghost of both sensations remained and the merman was fascinated by it.
"What…" The man mumbled. He looked around, movements disjointed, then twisted back. He caught sight of Emmrich and squinted at him. The merman tilted his head, twitching the fins at the side of his head curiously at the expression on the land dweller's face. This seemed to startle the man, whose hands immediately flew up to his waist belt. Nothing but an empty holster was there. "Stay back," The human warned, grasping behind him for anything to defend himself with.
Emmrich held up both of his hands; a pacifying gesture he once saw used on a mutinying navel ship. It didn't work for the sailor he observed— they got shot and fell straight into the ocean— but luckily, it worked for him. The man in front of him froze, scrutinizing the signal.
"I mean you no harm." Emmrich said. He was thankful for his extensive studies in human trade speech.
"What are you?" The human shot back. "A siren?"
Now this struck a chord with him. "A siren? Oh please, does it look like I have feathers?" Emmrich crossed his arms, his tail snapping at the water irritably. "Honestly, I don't understand why you humans get us confused. We merfolk have scales and fins; sirens have the bodies of birds! We're completely different species."
His retort shocked the human into silence. Then he rolled his eyes— goodness, how rude! "Fine, you're a merman. Where am I?" The man peered out of the mouth of the cave. The waves were still crashing against the beach rocks, and the palm trees further inland bent dangerously with the wind. "Where is my crew?"
"Your ship was destroyed in the storm. I happened to be taking refuge in the reef below when I saw the lightning hit it. The deck went aflame and caved in on itself. You were the only one I was able to break out of the wreckage and bring to this island." The human slumped back into the rocks, scrubbing a wet hand over his face. A few swear words escaped him before he glanced back to Emmrich.
"I wouldn't expect a thing like you to know this, but we humans believe that when a ship goes down, its captain should go down with it." The man grumbled.
Emmrich perked up, choosing to ignore the majority of the human's statement. "You're the captain of the S. S. Rookery?" He tried to crawl closer, but the human jolted back and held a hand out.
"Don't you dare move." His voice was stern and rumbled like the thunder outside. "How do you know the name of my ship?"
"In my colony, I'm one of the scholars tasked with maintaining our perpetual record of human vessels. I first recorded the name of your ship years ago, when you made your maiden voyage to Treviso. I've kept tabs on it ever since." The gills at his neck flared with pride. His work has helped many of his fellow merfolk to steer clear of fishing boats and whaling ships over the years.
The land dweller eyed him carefully. "That has to have been twenty years ago…" Emmrich sensed that the response was rhetorical, so he arranged himself more comfortably on the sandy patch to allow the human to think. What little light leaked through the cave's mouth caught the iridescence of his tail fin, shining greens and purples. The colors complimented the gold of his many arm treasures, which jingled against each other with every movement.
"What's your name?" The human said, regarding him strangely.
"Emmrich." He said, then asked "And yours?"
"Milos."
Emmrich thought it was a poetic name; one that he wouldn't expect a gruff man like the one next to him to have. "It's nice to meet you, Milos. I wish it were under better circumstances."
Milos shrugged off his coat and laid it on the driest rock he could find. "I wish so too."
Then the human laid down and closed his eyes. The merman figured this was his cue to give him some privacy, so he dove back into the water and settled in the soft beds of paddle grass below.
…
Days went by, and they formed a shaky comradery. Emmrich learned many new things about humans, like how they shivered when they were cold, and how they needed to consume water to stay alive. If a merperson's internal temperature went down, they'd just become lethargic. That's why they travelled to the continental shelf to sunbathe; so they could regulate themselves accordingly. And merfolk didn't need to consume water, they absorbed it through their skin. Seawater held vital nutrients and allowed them to breath, but they could also live a small amount of time on land if they wanted. A merperson could only last for approximately two hours out of water before they would need to wet themselves, or risk serious illness afterwards.
Apparently, humans were best when they were dry. That was the ideal state of a human: dry on the outside, but somehow wet on the inside.
Emmrich thought this odd. Why wouldn't humans hydrate their skin? Milos reassured him that they did, but they used something called 'lotion' to keep their skin healthy. When he asked if Milos needed to find lotion to survive, he said that it was less important than keeping his insides hydrated. Emmrich didn't get it, but he supposed that's what divided them as a species.
They spent their evening on the beach, Emmrich watching from afar as Milos built a fire. This was another thing that he learned was vital to human survival. Fire was what protected them from the harsh elements; what they used to char their food so it was safe for consumption. Almost everything Milos did was beside one, and he kept them going well into the night.
Currently, Milos was building what he called a bonfire. I was meant to be huge, so he needed to dig a small pit into the sand to contain it. The human spent the whole morning inland, breaking apart palm trees and picking up dried sticks. He now set to sparking a flame, first on a bundle of dried palm leaves and then onto the thin twigs that were stacked by the pit. He took out a device he'd made his first day: two sticks, one long and the other flat with divots chiseled into one side. Milos pinned the chiseled stick to the ground with one of his legs, then positioned a small dish of bark underneath a divot.
He fit the long stick into the notch and using the heel of his hand to the base of his palm, spun the tool in place. His large hands moved down the stick, quickly going back to the top when he approached the bottom. Emmrich marveled at how fast the wood began to smoke. Soon, he took the implement out and gently removed a black smoking chunk of ember. This, Milos told him, was the coal. It smouldered in its dish and continued even after Milos enveloped it in the dried leaves. He blew at the bundle, encouraging the fire to grow.
"You're quite good at that." Emmrich called, perched on a crop of slimy algae-ridden stones. The leaves in Milos' hands were now ablaze, so the land dweller placed it into the awaiting nest of twigs within the pit.
"Thank you." Milos called back. He continued to attend to the fire, stacking on bigger pieces of wood until the flames were very tall, letting out massive plumes of smoke into the air.
Emmrich pushed himself back into the water to escape the dry burning smell. "What purpose does this serve?" He shouted.
"If any ships come by, they'll see the smoke." The large man said, taking long strides back to his merman companion. "It'll signal to them that help is needed here."
That made sense; Milos couldn't stay on this remote island forever. He needed to return to human society, where he belonged. Emmrich needed to do the same; he's been away from his colony for longer than he should. He'd hate for his kin to think him dead, and the thought distressing his poor apprentice Manfred made him quite upset. If he didn't feel so obliged to help this human, he'd have already been back in his study, attending to his work with his beloved reanimated skeleton at his side.
"And that actually works?" Emmrich asked back in the beach cave. Since arriving on the island, Milos made a number of modifications to the space. Now there was a mat of dried woven palm leaves on the ground next to a circle of rocks that contained Milos' central fire. Everything was close enough to the water where the merman could easily wriggle over if he pleased. This was a recent development: at the beginning of their relationship, Milos insisted that Emmrich only interact with him outside of the cave. This, the human reasoned, was for his own safety. Who knew what the merman was capable of (Emmrich knew, but given how the human stood tall and firm like a mountain, he doubted he could do any real damage to him). He had no choice but to respect this, sleeping in the waters just outside the cave's mouth. If the human wanted to talk, he'd come out and put a great distance between them. Eventually these boundaries eased to where they are now, with Emmrich happily sitting himself next to Milos' makeshift bedding.
The land dweller shrugged. "I've picked up a couple stranded sailors before. They'd used that method to get my ship's attention." He sat back onto his mat, putting his hands out to capture the fire's warmth. "We can only hope it works."
"What will you do, if a ship takes notice?"
"I'll probably have them drop me off at the nearest port. Then, I'll see if I can catch a ship back home." Milos said, reaching over to a simple rod he'd made. It was about time for him to start searching for dinner.
Emmrich twitched his upper lip. "And where is home for you?"
"Right now, it's Val Royeaux. It's where my daughter lives." His face visibly softened as he hooked a piece of old meat onto the rod.
A daughter… If Emmrich remembered correctly, a daughter was a type of human child.
Milos walked out back to the beach and cast his line into the water. Near the cave, there were a number of fish that used the rocks as their home. Emmrich would help if he could, but he and his colony swore against eating flesh of any kind. His diet consisted of different kinds of algae and seaweed. He offered Milos a piece of sea lettuce once, but he declined. The taste wasn't appealing to him.
Emmrich stayed put, resting his arms on the rocks as he gazed at Milos' back. "So you've procreated?" He said.
"I wouldn't put it that way— sounds heartless." Milos pulled his rod, moving the bait alluringly through the water. "I'd rather you say I 'made love.'"
"'Made love?' What is love?" the merman said, cocking his head to the side.
"Do merfolk not love?" This had the man peeking back at him, eyebrows furrowed. His face was twisted in a way that Emmrich did not like.
"We might, maybe just under a different name. Describe it to me." The merman said, fins rustling indignantly. Whatever this love was, it couldn't be that important.
Milos' line tugged and with a strong motion, he flung a struggling surfperch onto the sand. Using the pocket knife he always keeps in his coat, Milos stabbed the fish through the brain. It stopped moving almost instantly. He took it back to his fire and began gutting it, speaking as he sliced through the meat. "Love is difficult to describe. To me, it means that you care about a thing or person deeply. For instance, I loved my crew. They were like siblings and children to me, and I would have happily died if it meant their survival was guaranteed. I also loved my ship, and I took great care of her when she was at port."
The man took a long wooden skewer he'd stripped of bark and impaled the filleted fish. He planted it close to the fire so the meat could cook. "Making someone out of love means that you and someone you love made the joint decision to have a child together."
Emmrich listened, arms wrapped around his tail fin in anticipation. He was thoroughly engrossed in this new insight into human society. Merfolk were different: they weren't exclusive in their relationships. Some would enjoy the company of many, while others would remain hermetic in their solitude. In his youth, Emmrich reveled in plenty of his fellow merfolk, but none were so significant as to be coveted by him. "So human procreation is motivated by this 'love?'"
"Usually it is." Milos said. "There are unfortunate exceptions, but ultimately we have children out of love for our partners."
That was also something to think about. Merfolk were a lot more pragmatic with their procreation. When breeding season came, all egg-producing individuals swam to the breeding grounds to lay their eggs. That would take about two days, depending on how many eggs were produced by each merperson. Then the sperm-producing individuals would go over and fertilize them. A sect of their colony was tasked with overseeing the eggs' growth, with only a handful of children hatching each year. Then, they were raised by the colony as a whole. Emmrich had laid many clutches in his lifetime and was certain that several of his spawn were among his colony today. He was positive that he'd mentored some of them, based off of shared features neither he nor his student cared to point out.
"How novel." Emmrich murmured, processing the information
"I take it merfolk don't do any of that?" Milos turned his skewer, exposing the other side of the filet to the flames.
The merman shook his head. "No, we don't. But it's an interesting concept; fostering children because you want to, rather than because you're biologically forced to." He shimmied back into the water for a little rehydration. When he came back up, he asked, "How do you know if you're in love?"
The human chuckled. "That's very subjective. Some people believe in love at first sight, but the love I had for my wife came gradually." He took a glimpse at the bonfire on the beach. It still burned strong. "We started as friends. She was a fishmonger in Denerim and I was a crewman fresh from Llomerryn. We talked and supported one another, and then one day we looked at each other and thought 'I love you,' and it felt right. Then we built our lives together."
"So your wife is your mate?"
"She was." Milos sighed. He took the filet away from the fire and flaked off some of the meat, inspecting its readiness. "She passed over a decade ago."
Emmrich felt… relieved by this?
This was not appropriate. The passing of a bonded mate was not something to be taken lightly, and it was beyond disrespectful to find relief in it. Emmrich knew this even if his own culture did not practice exclusivity in their relationships. In fact, this was an ongoing issue. Since their friendship started, he found himself wanting to get closer to Milos. Initially, it was purely for academic purposes. When else will he get the chance to safely talk to a human? He's jumped on every opportunity to learn, and already he's gathered enough information to write a whole series of journals dedicated to human culture.
Yet, something else brewed inside of the merman. It was a tinkling thing, like a trail of bubbles rising to the water's surface. Inside of him was a growing need to know Milos personally. His motivations, desires, and dreams— they suddenly became important. Every step he took to understanding the land dweller fed into a delusion so dangerous it made him physically ill: what if there was a place for Emmrich in this human's life. It was absurd and instead addressing it, he said, "I'm sorry," to cover up his internal panic.
"It's alright. She's at peace now." Milos chewed at his cooked fish, staring wistfully into the fire. Rather than responding, Emmrich slipped back into the water. He didn't resurface until the next morning.
…
Emmrich noticed Milos' beard got longer a month into their stay on the island. He also noticed that the human was getting thinner. Milos reassured him that this was to be expected, and promised to keep up his three daily meals of fish. The slight wasting did nothing to stunt the man's motivation, and he kept building his fires and hoping help arrived.
They continued to converse as they waited. Emmrich now knew that Milos' daughter, Yana, was his only spawn. The human said that she was learning how to make accessories like Emmrich's arm and hand treasures in Val Royeaux. They lived together in the city, and whenever Milos sailed she waited eagerly for his return. He missed her dearly and wished to see her soon.
Emmrich hoped that the land dweller's wishes came true, but something ugly within him reared its head. It begged for Milos to stay just a little longer; to have him all to himself for just another day. This voice was getting steadily louder with each day and Emmrich didn't like it at all.
One night by the fire, the large man murmured, "I want to thank you."
Emmrich glanced over to him, hands held neatly in his scaled lap. Lately, he's been having bodily reactions to Milos. Every time he spoke, an almost feverish warmth prickled at his pale cheeks. His fins would involuntarily flutter and jerk at the sight of Milos walking back from the inland jungle, most days shirtless due to the heat. The mass of tattoos on his chest and arms were horribly inviting, and the ideas they created in Emmrich's head were not to be repeated in polite society.
He's never felt anything like it. In all his years, he's only ever been preoccupied with his scholarly duties. This was a beast entirely new to him.
"Whatever for?" The merman eyed his companion, focusing on the human's arms which remained sturdy despite the weight loss. There was probably still more than enough strength in them to hold Emmrich down with ease. He refused to acknowledge why they'd do that, though.
"For staying here with me. If you weren't here, I think I would've gone insane by now." Milos stared off into the horizon. The sun had just set, leaving the sky a purpling bruise. "Fuck, I don't even know if you're real or a figment of my imagination. But you being here has made this experience less… Terrifying."
"Milos," Emmrich started. He was so grateful to have met him, and was thrilled to see him in such good health. It was right there on the tip of his tongue, but that awful something was stopping him.
An internal fight was fought, and the merman stood no chance. That abhorrent unspeakable part of him won out, and said, "Milos, I think I love you." He saw the human's eyes widen, still focused on that point where the sky met the sea. "What do I do?" He pleaded.
Milos opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. The sight didn't make Emmrich feel any better about himself. "You're sure you are?" Milos finally croaked. All the merman could do was nod. The man got up, running a hand through his scraggly curled hair as he paced. "Emmrich, love is a very serious thing."
"I'm perfectly aware of that." Emmrich snapped. "I've thought long and hard about it, but I can no longer deny the urges I've been feeling." He wrung his hands together and watched the human circle around the fire. Milos did a lap before kneeling down in front of him. "What kind of urges?" The human observed him closely. He felt like he was in the quarantine bay and the physician was inspecting him for gill flukes or velvet disease.
There were many urges that he told Milos of, so he started with the physical. He wanted to touch the human's skin, especially the areas hidden under his tattered clothes, and with each new tear in his pants and shirt his desire grew. He wanted to feel the itch of Milos' beard on his face again, and possibly other places he didn't think needed it until now. And the pink of the human's tongue made his heart thump erratically against his chest with every appearance, particularly when Milos is concentrating and it sits sweetly out on his bottom lip. Emmrich confessed that he'd like to feel it on his own.
His explanation soon devolved into the abstract. He told Milos of how he wanted to covet him; to interweave himself into his life so closely that neither one knows where they start or end. He wanted to be someone so essential to the human, like the fires he lights every day and night. He wanted his eyes only on him and no one else— barring his daughter who he knows Milos keeps close. The very idea of Milos leaving him for humanity had his teeth gnashing, claws sharpening, and poisonous spines shifting in their sheaths. It made him unmanageable in ways he's never experienced before.
The land dweller's eyes roamed over Emmrich as he continued to list his demands. It was an impressive list, and if Emmrich wasn't so distraught he might have been impressed by its verbosity.
… Or embarrassed. He's never been known to be so onerous.
Gently, Milos hovered a hand over his tail. "May I?" He breathed. Emmrich didn't even dignify it with a response. Urgently, he shut up and reached over to clasp the human's wrist, laying the large hand on his scales. It was like a brand, heat searing right to his bones. The touch had his mind momentarily going blank, and he gasped when Milos dared to place his other hand on him. His gentle hold moved higher and higher until it rested at his hips where his scales met his skin. Emmrich was certain that if he looked down, he'd see the human's thumbs almost touching as they grasped onto him. "Milos—" His gills fanned out, stuttering when the human got closer than he's ever been before.
"Are merfolk ever intimate with one another?" The large man was right at his head fins, teasing the delicate membranes with each exhale.
He felt dizzy, like when he's stayed too long topside and needed rehydration. Except his skin was still moist, and he'd taken a dip into the water only several minutes prior. "Pardon?"
"Do merfolk ever touch each other for pleasure?"
"Ah." Emmrich cleared his throat. "Yes, we do."
As breeding season neared, merfolk got a lot more handsy with each other. Sometimes a pair or a group would swim off to indulge, slipping fingers inside genital papilla or hooking their tails together and riding out the hormones as they pleased. Emmrich's been whisked away more than once by a close colleague to participate in the fun. He assumed humans performed similar activities, but never had he heard of a merperson delighting in a human. Were they even compatible in that way?
"Would you like to know how humans touch for pleasure?" Milos said, his hands staying dutifully in place. The merman figured now was better than never, so he wheezed out his affirmative. Milos closed the distance and placed his lips on his own; similarly to how Emmrich whispered the water from his lungs all those weeks ago. The press of his lips felt wonderful, better than the first time he clinically connected them, and the merman did his best to mimic Milos' movements. Then the land dweller licked the seam of his closed mouth. Emmrich gasped, and in doing so received a generous helping of human tongue. It tasted of fish and seawater and something he could only describe as distinctly Milos. He slid his own tongue against it, intoxicated in the slick exchange.
They broke apart, panting from exertion. A fragile line of drool connected them and Emmrich's lips swelled enticingly. Merfolk did not perform this kind of sexual ritual. Their mouths were considered sacred, representing them in diet, philosophy, and expression. So to explore another's felt like a borderline violation. Emmrich couldn't get enough, so he dared to wrap his arms around the human's neck to urge him back for more. Milos easily obeyed the silent command, resuming their peculiar debauchery. They were almost too preoccupied with each other to hear the distant horn droning outside the cave.
Milos tensed, then reared up and away. His movements were stumbling from the postural transition, but became more assured as the horn continued its bugling. Soon he was sprinting across the beach. His customary bonfire raged on, and when he stopped right in front he looked out to the sea.
Emmrich stayed in the cave and watched. He knew exactly what was happening. Milos was found, and soon he'll be gone forever. The merman wished he could join in the land dweller's excitement; if he had legs, maybe he'd be jumping and waving his arms on the shore just as Milos was. But really, this was just another grim reminder of the divide between them.
The human ran back giddily. "Emmrich!" He called from the cave's entrance, smile falling when he took in his companion's state. The merman was sure he looked catastrophic, hair and fins askew and slouched pathetically against the rocks. Milos stooped down, bringing a calloused knuckle under his chin to coax his gaze up. "Please, let's not have this be the end. I've grown to love you, too." This had him straightening, sitting at attention as Milos spoke. "You know where Val Royeaux is, right? Meet me there, on the breakwaters bordering the city's harbor and the Waking Sea. We can continue where we left off."
"You swear?" Emmrich murmured. Reluctantly, he helped Milos to collect what little belongings he had strewn about the cave. He handed him his coat, dirtied with cave grime and jungle dust. "I swear." Milos said. There was no room for argument in his tone.
With one final press of their lips (a soft affair, which lingered longer than was wise with a ship on its way), they went their separate ways. Emmrich dove back into the ocean and routed himself against the nearest cliff base to keep vigil over the encounter. It took a long time for the ship to get close enough to shore to send out a rescue boat, and even longer for Milos to be safely hauled onto its deck.
The merman recognized the ship. It was an old fishing vessel called La Tempèrence that set lobster traps along the Wycome coast. He'd seen it stall more than once on its weekly trips, so how it got to the island was beyond him.
He wanted desperately to believe that it would bring Milos home safely.
…
Emmrich had only been to Val Royeaux once; back when he was an audacious merling determined to prove his worth. He'd travelled far from his colony after overhearing a crewman on a passing ship talk about the city. Supposedly, its people and buildings were drenched in jewels and silks as far as the eye could see. He wished desperately to see it, to write every detail down and publish his own work for his colony's archives, but the port was too far out to see inside its pristine walls. He had to settle for catching a glimpse of vibrantly colored roofs and the occasional frilly drunk passed out on the fish barrels.
He cared for none of that now. What was most important was that he saw his human again.
It's been a little over two weeks since Milos was rescued. After ensuring that dingy trawler didn't sink as it left the island, Emmrich returned to his colony. He discovered that they'd sent search party after search party for him, and eventually pronounced him dead. Manfred was given full rights to his home, where he hoarded Emmrich's belongings with the ferocity of a mourning widow. He was mid-despairing wail when his professorial guardian opened the door. The skeleton was more than happy to relinquish Emmrich's property back to him, clinging onto his tail like his life depended on it as soon as he swam through the threshold.
The merman planned this visit meticulously, ensuring all his affairs were in order and he was packed for the long trip through the Waking Sea. The only person who knew of his true intentions was Manfred, who promised him numerous times that he wouldn't say a peep to any of his scholarly colleagues about who he was meeting. After much tearful reunion in the colony's educational wing, he told his coworkers of his upcoming trip to Val Royeaux. He told them he needed to document something absurd, like the local oyster population or the number of fishing vessels docked in a week's time. The reason escaped him in his impatience, but it was enough for the educational staff to dubiously agree to his appeal.
And that's how he ended up here: huddled just under the water's surface against the thick wall of rocks that made up the city's breakwater. Milos didn't exactly name a date or time for when they'd meet, so he quietly idled just out of sight of any incoming ships and listened for the familiar rumble of the human's voice. Hours flew by with nothing but the odd seagull call and ship horn.
Day turned to night, and Emmrich was about to give up and leave, when two voices approached. "Yana, I told you to stay on land!" The shout competed with the rising wind, but Emmrich recognized its timbre immediately.
Another shout, presumably Milos' spawn. "You've been walking down the breakwater every single day since you came back! You're not well, Papae!" Its higher pitch was stressed and sounded much farther down the breakwater than Milos' was. From the sound of the shifting stones that made up the massive coastal structure, his spawn's calls did nothing to stop the human from his quest. It got closer and closer, until it was at the tip of the breakwater overlooking the greater ocean. "Emmrich!" Milos yelled into the night. Behind him, his spawn protested for him to return to the city's port.
"Emmrich!" He screamed again, startling a shoal of trevally peering at Emmrich's tail. The merman decided to reveal himself then.
"I'm here!" He emerged excitedly out of the water, pulling himself up onto the haphazardly stacked rocks. The human spotted him and immediately hurried down the slope of the breakwater. "Papae! Papae!!" His daughter cried. From the sound of it, she was nearing their locale fast.
"Stay where you are!" Milos eyes were trained solely on Emmrich as he called back to his daughter. He straggled down to the breakwater's edge, pulling the merman up in a wet embrace. Emmrich cuddled up into the warmth, webbed hands holding tightly onto the soft linen of Milos' shirt. It was new and intact— so much different from the rag Milos wore on the island. They shared a kiss, deep and longing and well deserved.
The shaky breaths of Milos' daughter loomed over them. "Oh my— What?!" She choked when she saw her father with Emmrich in his arms. She was wide eyed and on the cusp of disbelieving frenzy.
They had a lot of explaining to do.