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Cymbeline doesn't really like boats, but they're the only way to get anywhere in a reasonable period of time, especially when "anywhere" isn't on the mainland. Today he is sailing to Vectis, to oversee the change of governorship; his father the king is needed for courtly matters back home and his mother the queen, despite being the source of his royal blood, declines to involve herself in affairs of state when she can avoid it. Zoyah takes more after Ranae than after Charles in this department. So, it falls to Cymbeline.
Walking on a boat is even more difficult than walking on land, and Cymbeline is no great shakes at the latter to begin with. Unfortunately, neither he nor Kerem, the court magician and Cymbeline's confidante, have been able to figure out how to apply the principles of practicable magic to alleviating princely clumsiness. So Cymbeline is clinging to the railing of the boat, watching the waves, trying to avoid having to walk anywhere.
aetheling
treasuresuntold
The waves are watching him back.
Ariel is a deep-water child, and it used to be that she couldn't even see up this high - too bright, the water too clear, the air stinging her eyes with its breathtaking lightness. But she likes it too much, coming up to watch the boats. She does it whenever she sees a shadow. And look, there's a cute human hanging over the side of this one, like a reward. She wonders if she could leap high enough to drag him into the water. No - they can't breathe it, that's right. That's why they need to go across on those enormous rotting hulks.
Ariel is a deep-water child, and it used to be that she couldn't even see up this high - too bright, the water too clear, the air stinging her eyes with its breathtaking lightness. But she likes it too much, coming up to watch the boats. She does it whenever she sees a shadow. And look, there's a cute human hanging over the side of this one, like a reward. She wonders if she could leap high enough to drag him into the water. No - they can't breathe it, that's right. That's why they need to go across on those enormous rotting hulks.
aetheling
There's something green over there. Seaweed probably.
The water's getting a bit choppy, and they're coming up on some dark clouds. The sailors are starting to look anxious.
The water's getting a bit choppy, and they're coming up on some dark clouds. The sailors are starting to look anxious.
treasuresuntold
The mermaid in the water has only a vague knowledge of the relationship between storms and shipwrecks. She keeps watching, staying far back.
aetheling
Cymbeline is ushered towards his cabin, but if things are that serious, surely he belongs on the deck, helping Kerem. Kerem's putting bits of turbulence into glass balls where they are more decorative than harmful. Cymbeline can do that too -
They run out of glass balls before the storm runs out of turbulence, and they're deeply in it, now.
Then a wave twice the height of the ship breaks their glass, which was boxed but not, apparently, padded well enough -
And Cymbeline cannot keep his footing in the ensuing chaos.
They run out of glass balls before the storm runs out of turbulence, and they're deeply in it, now.
Then a wave twice the height of the ship breaks their glass, which was boxed but not, apparently, padded well enough -
And Cymbeline cannot keep his footing in the ensuing chaos.
treasuresuntold
Down, down, down he goes.
Ariel flips her tail and ducks under the water, arrowing for the falling human. She doesn't know why she does it. Because he's cute, really. Is there a better reason?
Ariel flips her tail and ducks under the water, arrowing for the falling human. She doesn't know why she does it. Because he's cute, really. Is there a better reason?
aetheling
He holds his breath.
He shuts his eyes against the salt.
He tries to figure out which way is up, which should be easy, and is not.
He runs out the clock trying to find air, and his lungs burn, and his throat closes up, and he swallows seawater -
He shuts his eyes against the salt.
He tries to figure out which way is up, which should be easy, and is not.
He runs out the clock trying to find air, and his lungs burn, and his throat closes up, and he swallows seawater -
treasuresuntold
Something grabs him hard around the middle and shoves him up above the surface.
She stares at him, then looks up at the boat. No more humans are leaning over the side. Maybe he was the only one.
She stares at him, then looks up at the boat. No more humans are leaning over the side. Maybe he was the only one.
aetheling
Cymbeline coughs up water, sucks in air. He doesn't regain consciousness.
treasuresuntold
Well.
It's no good just leaving him here. She couldn't get him back up on his boat if she tried. But the edge of the water isn't that far away. She could get him there.
Ariel starts swimming.
It's hard, keeping him up by the surface - ten, twenty times, she forgets what she's carrying and ducks under a wave, has to pull him back up again and watch anxiously while he coughs and breathes. Even without that, the waves keep getting him. But after a few hours, she does get him to the shore.
It's no good just leaving him here. She couldn't get him back up on his boat if she tried. But the edge of the water isn't that far away. She could get him there.
Ariel starts swimming.
It's hard, keeping him up by the surface - ten, twenty times, she forgets what she's carrying and ducks under a wave, has to pull him back up again and watch anxiously while he coughs and breathes. Even without that, the waves keep getting him. But after a few hours, she does get him to the shore.
aetheling
He flops limply onto the beach where she takes him, spits out more water, and continues to be unconscious.
treasuresuntold
She tries to get him up as high as she can, as far from the water as she can. Moving is so hard up here, how do they do it? Well - feet. Feet is how.
This boy has feet.
Ariel inspects them, poking her fingers between his toes. They're cute! Like funny hands. (She looks up at his face. Is he awake yet? No.)
"C'mon," she murmurs, trying to stir the magic of her voice, even though she knows it doesn't really do that kind of thing. "I didn't drag you all this way to have you die on me." She kisses his forehead. "Wake up, pretty boy."
This boy has feet.
Ariel inspects them, poking her fingers between his toes. They're cute! Like funny hands. (She looks up at his face. Is he awake yet? No.)
"C'mon," she murmurs, trying to stir the magic of her voice, even though she knows it doesn't really do that kind of thing. "I didn't drag you all this way to have you die on me." She kisses his forehead. "Wake up, pretty boy."
aetheling
The pretty boy's feet twitch when she pokes them, but he doesn't wake.
treasuresuntold
Ariel sighs.
"Too bad, I guess," she says. "If I stay out any longer, Dad'll serve me for dinner." She gives him a last, thoughtful look, then kisses him on the mouth (because when is she going to get another chance?) and starts hauling herself down the beach towards the water. The sand itches between her scales.
"Too bad, I guess," she says. "If I stay out any longer, Dad'll serve me for dinner." She gives him a last, thoughtful look, then kisses him on the mouth (because when is she going to get another chance?) and starts hauling herself down the beach towards the water. The sand itches between her scales.
aetheling
It's not long later when Cymbeline's eyes flutter open.
He has the oddest, most vivid memories of being spoken to. Despite having been unconscious, he heard. Despite not knowing any of the words she used, he understood.
He hauls himself to a sitting position, coughing.
There are strange tracks in the sand. Handprints, too small to be his, and larger smoother depressions in the beach, like a seal or a dolphin with human forelimbs hauled itself up alongside him - with him? In tow?
He doesn't know what to make of that.
A quick assessment of his surroundings is in order. He starts along the shore, looking for a stream; fresh water will lead to people, and he's recognized over the whole of Loegria and its neighbors; he can get home as soon as he finds civilization of any kind.
He has the oddest, most vivid memories of being spoken to. Despite having been unconscious, he heard. Despite not knowing any of the words she used, he understood.
He hauls himself to a sitting position, coughing.
There are strange tracks in the sand. Handprints, too small to be his, and larger smoother depressions in the beach, like a seal or a dolphin with human forelimbs hauled itself up alongside him - with him? In tow?
He doesn't know what to make of that.
A quick assessment of his surroundings is in order. He starts along the shore, looking for a stream; fresh water will lead to people, and he's recognized over the whole of Loegria and its neighbors; he can get home as soon as he finds civilization of any kind.
treasuresuntold
Meanwhile, Ariel swims straight home.
The king under the sea doesn't serve her for dinner, but it's a near thing. She's a week recovering, and she'll have another scar right down the length of her tail.
She can't stop thinking about her little taste of the surface.
What must it be like up there? Whatever it is, it can't be as bad as it is down here. And her father won't be able to find her no matter how he looks. That's worth a lot.
By the time she can swim well enough to leave the palace again, her mind is made up.
She goes looking for the witch.
The king under the sea doesn't serve her for dinner, but it's a near thing. She's a week recovering, and she'll have another scar right down the length of her tail.
She can't stop thinking about her little taste of the surface.
What must it be like up there? Whatever it is, it can't be as bad as it is down here. And her father won't be able to find her no matter how he looks. That's worth a lot.
By the time she can swim well enough to leave the palace again, her mind is made up.
She goes looking for the witch.
The witch has the sense to fear Triton, but not the sense to let that keep her far away. She's findable, if you know who to ask.
Here she is, deep inside the twists and turns of a stinging reef, with her garden of polyps, and her collection of sea-glass with small trapped moving things in each piece.
Here she is, deep inside the twists and turns of a stinging reef, with her garden of polyps, and her collection of sea-glass with small trapped moving things in each piece.
treasuresuntold
"I want some magic," Ariel announces. Her voice fills the reef. She's good with her voice.
The witch creeps out from the maze, peers around a corner.
"Do you? Well then, pretty voice, why don't you come in," says the witch, mimicking the inflection, if not the power. "And we'll see if we can't make a deal."
"Do you? Well then, pretty voice, why don't you come in," says the witch, mimicking the inflection, if not the power. "And we'll see if we can't make a deal."
treasuresuntold
She swims inside fearlessly. There are things in this ocean she fears, but stinging reefs and creeping witches aren't among them.
The witch is themed purple where Ariel is green. She's half-octopus, not half-fish, but still certainly a mercreature. Her hands skim over her sea-glass collection. "Now what would you like? I've got someone's charmed hands, nimble as you please... got whales' strength and sharks' ferocity and several sorts of poison and glitter for your scales - what's your fancy?"
treasuresuntold
"I want legs," Ariel says firmly. "I want to go up on the surface and walk around."
The witch starts to reach for something, but then she says, "In the interest of repeat business - the legs I have are not the best models - I took them as a curiosity, got them for a song, but I wouldn't use them. Cursed, painful."
"Oh, very, it'd be like putting all your weight down on a narwhal's nose every time you took a step - you want them anyway?" inquires the witch with interest.
