Mythical Creatures, Part II
Were this in a book, or threaded on a board sometime, this story should come after slwatson's recent post, Always
It was a fact, unassailable.
Oh my god. I’m dead.
Perhaps not a fact, but certainly, it was the only logical conclusion. The second before she closed her eyes, she had been staring into an angry sea that had come, once and for all, to devour her. The leviathan had tried and failed, but the ocean had conspired, at last, to claim its wayward daughter. When Maia opened them again, there was light and warmth and the faint sounds of water and wind. Though the light was bright, it did not pain her eyes. More telling, there was no pain. Maia had never come to after battle and felt so well. Though, she had to wonder why, in the afterlife, she would still smell like...well, she still smelled vaguely like dead leviathan. Once this realization dawned, she began to get her bearings and another rather startling revelation followed.
Oh my god. I’m naked.
She sat up in what she surmised was a bed (however oddly shaped it was). The irregularly shaped bed had layered on it some irregularly shaped blankets. She clutched one around her and stood up to take in the room. Her bed had been in the very center of it, and the floor beneath her feet was hard and strangely, also warm. The walls stretched high and arced up in one long gleaming expanse. Maia had never seen anything quite like it. It was alien and beautiful. The room was roundish in shape and vast. The floor did not extend to those strange high walls, but rather, was surrounded on all sides by water, deep enough to swim in. Bed. Blankets. Indoor Moat. This place was surely weird. Maybe it was purgatory.
“Hallo?”
Her voice hit the walls and came back to her, but it seemed to elicit no response. The echoes bounced, the water lapped, and high above her from openings unseen, a wind wafted. The more Maia thought about it, the more she began to feel some genuine concern that she was not, in fact, dead. A person, upon discovering that death had been delayed might be joyful, but Maia was a sensible thing. Being a prudent thing, she would belay her joy until she received some substantial proof of her own life...and proof that her situation was not a completely undesirable one.
Carefully, Maia paced the perimeter of the room looking for some clue of her location, or some way out. She thought, as she did this, that she would feel infinitely more at ease if she knew where any of her things were, or where Ayrani might be for that matter. She knelt to sniff at the water and then gingerly touched it. Like the floor, like the room, it was warm. She tasted her finger and recognized the sea. This just got weirder and weirder. Nevertheless, that leviathan smell wasn’t going to take care of itself, and it would do well to solve one of her problems. Once she had determined that there was no lurking danger, she dropped the blanket and lowered herself into the moat to try to rinse the remaining monster gook from her person.
One big breath of air, and she ducked beneath the surface, and let herself sink a little. The weightlessness of water was a comfort; something familiar in this otherwise strange place, and strange it remained; beneath the surface, Maia thought she could hear something like muffled music. Song. A singer, perhaps? When she rose above the water to see if it was a sound in the room, the day got stranger, still.
Maia opened her eyes and turned, startled nearly to death to see a man some small distance behind her. More startling was the look of him. He resembled, oddly, someone she loved and lost, long ago. Bright blue eyes gazed out at her from beneath inky locks, and for a moment, she was sure again that she had died. Then, the freckled markings at his hairline caught her attention, and she followed the strange, dark markings down the expanse of his neck, bare shoulders and arms to see that beneath the surface of the water was a long black and blue tail.
“Touch me and I’ll kill you, fish-boy,” Maia stated flatly, as though there were no question that she could. Honestly, it had not escaped her attention that in her current state, she would be scarcely better equipped to fight anything aquatic than a deer would be to hunt a shark, but Maia could never drop that sharp-edged front. Said fish-boy blinked at her, expressionless, and then that face relaxed into something like a smile. His accent was thick, and strange, like he had spent a long while studying her language without ever hearing it really clearly.
“Oh, my Liege, I would never deign to touch you.”
Maia kept a wary eye on the interloper as she swam over to the side of the moat and pulled herself from the water then, drawing the blanket around her again. The creature in the water with her had been rather impassive about her absence of clothes, and seemed equally nonplused that she had chosen to cover up.
“Did you just call me Liege?”
“Is there something else you would be called, My Liege? I am not sure of the manner to which you would be accustomed.”
“That was a yes or no question, fish-boy.”
“I’m sorry, my Liege.”
“Yes, then.”
“Yes, my Liege?”
“Stop that.”
She snapped at the creature sharply, and as she did, he bowed his head, apparently supplicant. Weirdest day ever. She tried a new tactic.
“Tell me your name.”
“It is Tero, my Liege.”
“And what are you?”
“I am your Ambassador.”
“Right, but what manner of being are you?”
“I am one of the merfolk, my Liege, and I have come to do whatever you bid me.”
“Why is this?”
“As it was told, so shall it come to be,” said Tero. His eyes drifted closed, like he was reciting an often practiced passage from a beloved story. “When she comes to her throne, the winds will warm through the time of ice, and the greatest beast shall fall to her hand.” When he opened them again, he looked up at her, reverence clear upon his face. “We have waited ages for you, and now, just as it was foretold, you have arrived.”
“Me?” Maia coughed, incredulous, eyeing the horribly earnest merman.
“Yes. You are our beloved Sovereign. Give me any errand, and it shall be done.”
“My clothes?”
“Ah, yes. Your raiments were nearly destroyed in battle, and unworthy of your splendor. I shall bring your royal gown, posthaste.”
Yep. It was a fact, unassailable:
Oh my god. I’m in hell.
It was a fact, unassailable.
Oh my god. I’m dead.
Perhaps not a fact, but certainly, it was the only logical conclusion. The second before she closed her eyes, she had been staring into an angry sea that had come, once and for all, to devour her. The leviathan had tried and failed, but the ocean had conspired, at last, to claim its wayward daughter. When Maia opened them again, there was light and warmth and the faint sounds of water and wind. Though the light was bright, it did not pain her eyes. More telling, there was no pain. Maia had never come to after battle and felt so well. Though, she had to wonder why, in the afterlife, she would still smell like...well, she still smelled vaguely like dead leviathan. Once this realization dawned, she began to get her bearings and another rather startling revelation followed.
Oh my god. I’m naked.
She sat up in what she surmised was a bed (however oddly shaped it was). The irregularly shaped bed had layered on it some irregularly shaped blankets. She clutched one around her and stood up to take in the room. Her bed had been in the very center of it, and the floor beneath her feet was hard and strangely, also warm. The walls stretched high and arced up in one long gleaming expanse. Maia had never seen anything quite like it. It was alien and beautiful. The room was roundish in shape and vast. The floor did not extend to those strange high walls, but rather, was surrounded on all sides by water, deep enough to swim in. Bed. Blankets. Indoor Moat. This place was surely weird. Maybe it was purgatory.
“Hallo?”
Her voice hit the walls and came back to her, but it seemed to elicit no response. The echoes bounced, the water lapped, and high above her from openings unseen, a wind wafted. The more Maia thought about it, the more she began to feel some genuine concern that she was not, in fact, dead. A person, upon discovering that death had been delayed might be joyful, but Maia was a sensible thing. Being a prudent thing, she would belay her joy until she received some substantial proof of her own life...and proof that her situation was not a completely undesirable one.
Carefully, Maia paced the perimeter of the room looking for some clue of her location, or some way out. She thought, as she did this, that she would feel infinitely more at ease if she knew where any of her things were, or where Ayrani might be for that matter. She knelt to sniff at the water and then gingerly touched it. Like the floor, like the room, it was warm. She tasted her finger and recognized the sea. This just got weirder and weirder. Nevertheless, that leviathan smell wasn’t going to take care of itself, and it would do well to solve one of her problems. Once she had determined that there was no lurking danger, she dropped the blanket and lowered herself into the moat to try to rinse the remaining monster gook from her person.
One big breath of air, and she ducked beneath the surface, and let herself sink a little. The weightlessness of water was a comfort; something familiar in this otherwise strange place, and strange it remained; beneath the surface, Maia thought she could hear something like muffled music. Song. A singer, perhaps? When she rose above the water to see if it was a sound in the room, the day got stranger, still.
Maia opened her eyes and turned, startled nearly to death to see a man some small distance behind her. More startling was the look of him. He resembled, oddly, someone she loved and lost, long ago. Bright blue eyes gazed out at her from beneath inky locks, and for a moment, she was sure again that she had died. Then, the freckled markings at his hairline caught her attention, and she followed the strange, dark markings down the expanse of his neck, bare shoulders and arms to see that beneath the surface of the water was a long black and blue tail.
“Touch me and I’ll kill you, fish-boy,” Maia stated flatly, as though there were no question that she could. Honestly, it had not escaped her attention that in her current state, she would be scarcely better equipped to fight anything aquatic than a deer would be to hunt a shark, but Maia could never drop that sharp-edged front. Said fish-boy blinked at her, expressionless, and then that face relaxed into something like a smile. His accent was thick, and strange, like he had spent a long while studying her language without ever hearing it really clearly.
“Oh, my Liege, I would never deign to touch you.”
Maia kept a wary eye on the interloper as she swam over to the side of the moat and pulled herself from the water then, drawing the blanket around her again. The creature in the water with her had been rather impassive about her absence of clothes, and seemed equally nonplused that she had chosen to cover up.
“Did you just call me Liege?”
“Is there something else you would be called, My Liege? I am not sure of the manner to which you would be accustomed.”
“That was a yes or no question, fish-boy.”
“I’m sorry, my Liege.”
“Yes, then.”
“Yes, my Liege?”
“Stop that.”
She snapped at the creature sharply, and as she did, he bowed his head, apparently supplicant. Weirdest day ever. She tried a new tactic.
“Tell me your name.”
“It is Tero, my Liege.”
“And what are you?”
“I am your Ambassador.”
“Right, but what manner of being are you?”
“I am one of the merfolk, my Liege, and I have come to do whatever you bid me.”
“Why is this?”
“As it was told, so shall it come to be,” said Tero. His eyes drifted closed, like he was reciting an often practiced passage from a beloved story. “When she comes to her throne, the winds will warm through the time of ice, and the greatest beast shall fall to her hand.” When he opened them again, he looked up at her, reverence clear upon his face. “We have waited ages for you, and now, just as it was foretold, you have arrived.”
“Me?” Maia coughed, incredulous, eyeing the horribly earnest merman.
“Yes. You are our beloved Sovereign. Give me any errand, and it shall be done.”
“My clothes?”
“Ah, yes. Your raiments were nearly destroyed in battle, and unworthy of your splendor. I shall bring your royal gown, posthaste.”
Yep. It was a fact, unassailable:
Oh my god. I’m in hell.