MERMAIDS ARE REAL

"So I️ was right, huh? That is what that means?"

He grins with a sense of accomplishment after she pops back up through the waves at his beating on the bottom of the boat.

But then she starts poking and prodding, and she seems like she's trying to say something, but Shand has never been good at reading lips. She's looking at his shoulder, where the red cut is visible through the thin, ratty old shirt and he nods in understanding.

"Ohhh, yeah, it's just a cut. Sometimes the nets get really heavy and pull us around and the rope can cut when it drags across your skin. It happens all the time, it's fine."

He waves her off, seeing how she pulls back whenever he reacts to the pain.

"With all the saltwater though, they always clear up super fast. A few days, really."

He smiles, like he's still in awe and will never get over everything amazing about saltwater, like he wants to jump in and never get back out like her.

But she's still staring at his face, her head tilted to the side in confusion. She's even touching her own cheeks now, trying to communicate.

He reaches up to touch his cheeks, not understanding, and when his fingertips press into the skin, and his fingertips feel so cool and his face feels on fire, he finally gets it.

"Ahhhhh. Okay, yeah, I'm super red."

He laughs a little bit, slightly embarrassed but his blush can't show anyway.

"I️ stay pretty sunburnt, occupational hazard I️ guess. A lot of the other guys slather themselves up with zinc oxide on days it's going to be really bad, but."

He shrugs his shoulders, redistributing his weight in the rowboat and making it bob a bit, and Luna with it, rested on the side.

"Just between you and me, it's really expensive, plus it looks and smells gross, so it's a lose all around."

He leans in and winks at her as he talks, like he really is sharing a secret.

She's not sure why but she smiles at his so-called secret, nodding like the information is relevant to her but this red hue is something she's never experienced a day in her life. He seems more than pleased to tell her though and that's good enough for her.

The boat shifts with his movement, more than she's ever seen one of the bigger ones move, and it demands her attention. She presses down where she leans over the edge but nothing really happens so she tries again, getting her tail involved this time which rocks everything a little more than either was expecting and she falls right into the boat, the flowing wisps of her large fin out of the water, pressed against the side of the boat.

With a huff, she flings her long wet hair out of her face and sits up, looking around from the floor of the boat. It's hot out of the water but she sits taller than she usually does which pulls a small smile to her face as she pulls herself to look out over the ocean from the dry piece of glorified driftwood.

The awe doesn't last long, she remembers the pack she left here for him, reaching to the side and pulling out the now dry seaweed bag. Her eyes widen and she pokes the leaves, listening to them crunch with obvious surprise, but she sets her new amusement to the side, offering him the small sack.

"Oh, are you okay up here? Are you sure-?"

Shand seems a little flustered by her sudden flop into the boat, but moreso because it seems like the type of thing that would be bad for her. Strangely enough, it feels nice to have her sit in the rowboat with him.

No one else ever really has. There are sailors on the ship who are friends, and ones who are at least tolerant of each other, but Shand doesn't really fall into any of those categories. He's more or less alone, just like he's always been, but it hasn't really bothered him.

However, seeing her here sitting up beside him and admiring the new view, the strange, new feeling, makes him miss the companionship retroactively.

Then she hoists a makeshift sack of some sort into the boat- make out of seaweed? He touches all over it before it gets too crisp to not break.

"You've gotta teach me how to make one of these."

He says in an admiring tone. And he really could use that skill on his dives. Which reminds him, he would love to go diving with her, provided that she not go too deep and not leave him too far in the dust-

When she opens the bag, it's full of perfectly round, glimmering pearls. And especially with the way the sun is going down on the water, the light cast right at them makes them glow.

They take his breath away at first.

"They're beautiful."

His tone is hushed, like he can't bring himself to speak normally in the presence of something so beautiful and valuable. He wonders if pearls are like gravel or sand to her.

"Do you see these down there all the time? Do they look, like-"

He tries to come up with the right words, and they take a few seconds to come to him.

"Like boring and mundane to you? Are your streets made of pearls? Wait, do mermaids have streets? You probably don't, sorry, that's dumb. And even if you did, I️ bet you don't know what streets are to be able to compare them, huh?"

He laughs a bit at himself, then shakes his head.

"It must be so different living under there. I'd love to just be like you for a day."

Luna shakes her head quickly at his proclamation about living in the sea, about living the life she has, suddenly very serious in comparison to the creature that just flopped unceremoniously up into his boat with him. How is she supposed to explain that the sea has its own terrors, it's own evils? It's not something anyone could understand if they haven't lived it.

The best she can think to do is shake her head at his last question then point to her throat like she had last night when she told him she couldn't speak. It's not like she was born this way and it's not also any terrible accident that did this to her so, no, he's much better off staying out of the sea if he can.

She sighs, shrugging her shoulders. Pearls aren't ultra rare treasures by any means but they're not as common as sand either. Well, she supposes that's all dependent on how far one can dive. It's a long trip down and not usually one humans can make, so maybe these are valuable to them, to him. She should go find more.

Her hand finds his sleeve again, tugging on it as her free one points to the water, asking him if he wants her to show him what she means.

Shand does a bit of a double take when she points over the edge of the row boat.

"Wait..we can go? That's okay?"

He gets this light in his eyes that makes him look years and years younger than he is, and like this is his version of playing.

And really, it is. He's on the ship working all day, mostly every day, so he doesn't have much time to swim, to dive like he loves. And when he's done for the day, he always tells himself that he's too tired, he needs to get a good night's sleep, he'll be too cold to sleep if he gets wet now.

None of those things really seem to matter tonight. Who is he to pass up doing his favorite thing with a mermaid. Although he's a little afraid to see how much more of a klutz she'll make him feel like underwater, where he's supposed to feel the most graceful of any other place.

But that doesn't matter much either.

"Let's go, let's go right now."

He's smiling so wide it covers his whole face and he shimmies a little bit in the rowboat like he can't wait.

Luna grins, using her tail against the side of the boat to flip herself back into the water with ease, allowing the cool saltwater to, oddly enough, rehydrate her and protect her from the dry, warm air above. She can see how her action made the small boat rock and how he barely manages to keep his balance.

She should probably feel bad but the noise he makes and the look she sees on his face when she shyly peeks above the surface is priceless. For once in her life, she's glad she can't speak so that way he can't hear her laugh as she watches him.

Once he looks like he's gathered himself together again, she motions for him to jump in, pointing at a new reef below them. Well, new for him, but she's been playing around this one all day waiting for him to come down from deck. Luckily, that just means she knows all the good spots for exploring and all the spots that she doesn't think will be too deep for him.

Then again, what does she know about how long a human can or can't hold their breath? She very pointedly motions to a certain spot where the reef is the closest towards the surface, still a little ways down, wanting to try there first to make sure he's okay.

Shand pulls his shirt over his head first- better to keep it dry for the night- and then dives in after her.

He's been diving for years, for fun and for pearls and everything in between, so this is something he knows. He lets some exhaled air out of his nose in a stream of bubbles, enjoying the coolness of the water around him and how it makes everything light and soft.

She's further down waiting for him, watching him intently, her hair floating around her like clouds of smoke, her tail slowly batting back and forth.

He's reminded of how cumbersome it is to swim with legs and arms stroking, flailing, when he watches her swim with such ease. It's beautiful and calming and mesmerizing.

Down here, they're on equal playing ground, him without his voice, too. But when he nears her, he points down at the reef and nods, he's okay to go down further. He wants to see where all the pearls are.

She arches an eyebrow at him, judging him to make sure he’s actually okay to do what he’s saying. He seems alright, comfortable and confident floating in the ocean beside her so she decided to trust him.

Further down on the next level of the reef, she points to different spots, different miniature coves and indents in the ecosystem, moving herself to one as an example. Several fish swim past in a rainbow flurry, a few staying to move around her, familiar with the sight of her.

A particularly bright yellow one stays around eye level, swimming circles and she pokes the side of it as it makes another lap around her head. It shimmies at the touch, scales glistening in the light filtering down from the surface, but it stays somewhat in place, just turning to look around. Luna waves Shand over and takes his hand, holding it up to the fish. He’s stiff like he doesn’t know what to do so she positions his hand for him, creating a small half-circle with his fingers that the fish almost immediately swims into like its another cave to hide in.

She laughs, a few bubbles escaping her mouth rising to the surface, patting his arm as she pushes away, gliding to a high concentration of various different types of coral and underwater flora and wildlife, floating above it, looking down intently, searching every little inch and fold.

The fish darts out of Shand’s hand and burrows itself into a waves plant nearby, out of sight. By that point, she’s moved on to a wider area of the natural ocean city they’re exploring, not having found anything in the other area. Finally, tucked away at a wall of the structure, is a pile of washed away shells, stuck by the current, and she gently digs through them, setting each one down gently, organizing them in a neat line as she goes. She finds a particularly beautiful glistening blue one that she keeps in her hand but, aside from that, she keeps flipping shells over.

Under the stack is a small mound of sand that she brushes away and, buried below it, is a pearl, lodged in the creases of the coral. It takes a little force but she manages to pluck it out, holding it out for him to see.

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Shand is still a little mesmerized by the fish's trick, and even after it's long gone, he keeps his fingers in the circle she'd arranged, and just stares like he's still trying to comprehend what had happened.

She's beckoning him over now, holding something out to him, and he swims over to her, like a lanky frog in a pond, holding onto a sturdy ledge in the reef floor to steady himself.

In her hand is a beautiful pearl, a good size, with a swirling peach color that takes him by surprise in its uniqueness.

He lets out a few air bubbles as if he's gasping at it a bit, reaching out his finger to touch it, to brush gently across its surface like its a ridiculously fragile thing.

When she turns to keep looking, he's mesmerized by something else. Her tail is darting lazily back and forth to keep her from being swept by the current as she searches in that one spot.

The fins are thin and translucent, but strong and powerful and although they keep her fixed in her spot, they ripple and curl like fabric unfurled in the wind.

He absentmindedly reaches down to let a finger trail gently across one of them now, to feel the soft and smooth skin that waves with the ocean and glimmers in the filtered moonlight from the surface.

Luna pauses her search, turning to look at him, head tilted, clearly not bothered by what he's doing but just as clearly confused. She can feel a line follow behind his finger long after it has moved to a different spot to feel her texture elsewhere.

Do humans do this often? He looks like a curious child exploring something new, learning a different trick, memorizing something they want to take with them for the rest of their life. What has fascinated him this much? It's just her tail and fins.

She brings her tail around towards him, lightly smacking his side with it, eyes widening at the size comparison. The fabric-like folds, even in moments that they're stretched by the current, still aren't taller than he is. How is that possible? She can hide herself away behind them, wrap herself entirely in them, but they don't completely cover him. No, they would look more like a short blanket on him.

Before he can have time to react, the waving ripples wrapping around him, trying to see how much of him she can cover at one time. It's not like he's the biggest creature she's ever met but she had assumed humans were smaller and he is when you add the length of her entire tail in, but comparing him to different sections of it finally brings to light how tall he is.

It definitely brings to life that, if her tail was out of the picture, it appears like he'd be taller than her altogether. Still working on measuring him with the tail he found so interesting, she pulls herself closer, stopping in front of him, and aligns her proportions with his the best she can, noticing how, like this, she's over a full head shorter than he is. She smiles up at him like it's the funniest but most intriguing thing to happen today.

Her tail, her fins brush against his skin as she wraps them across and around him, like some sort of game. They tickle his skin and leave thin trails of warm tingles across him as they pass and it makes him want to laugh.

But by the time she’s treading water right below him, her head right under his, her bright blue eyes looking up playfully into his, he starts feeling his lungs stretch and burn and he thinks no, he can stay longer.

She’s touching his skin now, too, like the darker color is still so foreign and the sun spots and scars and everything sitting his shoulders and back and chest are curious roadmaps and markers or constellations that she’s charting.

Her hair is still floating like it’s made of waves itself, pieces pulled here and there by the current, and he touches one of the shells that is tangled purposefully up near the crown of her head. She’s like nature, everything about her elegant and effortless and full of life.

He starts surveying all the shells in her hair, taking stock of the different shapes, kinds and colors he’s never seen wash up on the shore before, kinds that aren’t at the depths he can dive to.

When he thinks about trying to dive deeper, his lungs feel stretched even thinner and he can’t push away his need for air anymore.

She is absorbed in tracing the lines across his tanned chest when she can hear a noise from him, seeing that he’s looking up towards the surface. How could she nearly forget humans need air? Was she that caught up in studying him?

Her tail unwinds from around him, freeing him from the flowing fins, and she tugs his arm upwards with a frown, obviously worried for him, upset he didn’t “say” something sooner. Once they breach, she can hear him gasping for the cool night air but she’s more concerned with his dark wet hair. It looks longer now than when it’s dry which sparks inspiration.

She snatches her own hair up, unwinding a small spiraled green shell, pushing the bent strands away once she’s done. Before he can even question what she’s doing, she’s right in front of him, reaching up, gently trying to wrap his hair around the small shell, very focused on her task, fingers working quickly.

His hair is surprisingly soft, all things considered, and it frames his warm skin nicely. They’re very close and she can tell he’s not used to this by the way he tenses. Do humans not interact like this? Then again, she’s not even sure her own kind interacts like this, but something about him invites her in to express her curiosities and thoughts, the best she can.

She rests her tail under him, the folds brushing against his back, creating a small area for him to lean against and not tread water the entire time she’s playing with his locks, trying to make sure he doesn’t tire himself out like he had yesterday.

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He gasps for breath, and just like always, he's only aware of how much he needed to breathe now that he can again. His chest heaves in an uneven rhythm for a few seconds, trying to get back into time with constant breathing, like he's having to relearn what breathing is.

He's so focused on getting his head to stop spinning that at first, he doesn't notice her getting closer to him, her hands in her hair. When she reaches out and runs her hands through his hair, it catches him off guard.

That's an intimate touch he wasn't expecting, and it takes him a minute to get over the idea of it, the memory of hands pulling in his hair, and realize that her hands are gentle and it feels soothing, good.

It feels like she's winding something in his hair, and only when her hands come out and she pulls something else out of her hair does he realize that she's taking shells out of her hair and putting them in his.

The realization makes him blush and brings a boyish smile to his face, so he just smiles down at the water like an idiot while his face flushes, trying to hide how pleased it makes him.

He imagines her searching for all her shells just as she'd done when they'd dived just now, searching and picking her favorites, taking time to collect them and adorn herself with them. And now she's sharing this part of herself with him.

He wishes he had something, some way to do the same thing for her, but all he has is his pearl, and the thought of letting go of it clutches at his stomach and makes him feel a little nauseous. Maybe he'll come up with something tomorrow, he'll think about it while he works and maybe an idea will come to him.

"Thank you."

He says finally when she pulls her hands back to admire her work. He gingerly reaches up to pat around and feel, and his hands land on the two small shells almost immediately, tangled up in his hair. He hopes they're stuck in there good, because he never wants them to fall out.

As she stares at him in her silence, a million questions come to him. Things he wants to know, to see, to figure out about her.

"So where do you sleep? I️ mean, how do you sleep- does your tail anchor you wherever so you don't float away? And what do you eat down there? Are there others like you? Do you have friends? I️ guess it's lucky I️ practically live on the ocean like you live in it or I️ might never have met you. Sorry for all the talking."

He shakes his head to snap himself out of it, like he could keep talking forever unchecked, and just talk her ears off.

"I️ don't really get to talk to anyone else. And you're a really good listener."

He laughs a little bit at himself, hoping she'll take it as the compliment he means.

"It must be great to have a tail and breathe underwater and just go wherever you want whenever. I'd give anything to have that. I️ could just jump ship and never go back and just."

He shrugs, and it's clear that he means, just anything. And it's clear that he's enraptured with the idea.

He's asking a million questions a minute and it doesn't bother her, actually, she listens intently, eyes scanning over his expressions and then lips like she's trying to take in every single word he's saying in every way she can and pick up on any and every possibility they mean with how he's saying them. He's fascinating. Captivating. She wants to know him more.

But she can't answer every single question he has, not at once, her head reeling to keep up and think of every answer she needs at the same time. All she wants is to speak, to easily answer every curious thought he has, but she can't.

Her mind fixates on one question in particular: Are there others? Do you have friends?

Luna picks up some of her hair, playing with the ends of it, trying to think of a way to answer that, trying to think of how she can easily respond.

Are there others? Yes, somewhere, out there other mermaids and mermen exist, but she only sees and knows of one other, a beautiful sadistic creature.

Does she have friends? No, never. Not in any memory she can pull out of the depths of her mind can she think of a single friend... Well, until him, until Shand. She feels like they're friends at this point.

The only thing she can think to do is shake her head, averting her eyes, letting the waves slowly press her tail to his back as she hides her mouth within her hair so he can't see the frown on her lips.

But she wants him to say more and he can't really respond based on such a simple action to a list of questions. She needs to think of something else. Not really having another idea in mind, she lifts her hand above the water to show off that peach-swirled pearl from before that she's still holding on to, offering to let him take it.

When she shakes her head no, pulls her hair around her face to try and hide the face that it makes her sad not to have had any friends, he has the overwhelming desire to just pull her to him and hug her. But that would probably be awkward.

"It's okay, I️ don't have any friends either. Well, until now."

He smiles, watching her look like she has an idea as she pulls out the pearl and pushes it at him.

"No no, that's yours and you already gave me two of your shells. I️ can't take everything of yours."

She keeps holding it out to him in her open palm, the milky pure white color of her skin contrasting with the peachy color of the pearl and making both look so rich.

Then, he has an idea. Maybe he can pull this off.

"Just let me borrow it for a little while, okay?"

He takes it gingerly from her hand, running his finger along the smooth curves and holding it up to his eye level to examine it. He leans over the side of the rowboat and drops it securely into his shirt pocket.

"So what else do you do around here? How do you pass the day? Do you like play with fish all the time like before? Can you teach me how to talk to fish??"

Talk to fish? It's not exactly like she speaks to them, she doesn't speak to anyone, so the question seems a little out of place given the circumstance. But she can teach him to interact, to get to know what they want and what they like. That's as much as she can really teach him, though, but she hopes it's enough.

She motions for him to follow her and the two dive back under the surface, back down to the reef. The little yellow fish is still there, an orange and white fish swimming by its side, the two looking as happy playing around as their two new observers are to watch together.

Luna holds up one hand in a cupping motion, exactly how she had shown Shand but with more intentionality behind every slight angle of her fingers, and the yellow fish buries itself into her hand. With her other one, she makes a downward "C" shape to which the new fish quickly swims in and out of, brushing itself against her fingers and skin, wiggling exactly like a dog excited about being pet.

Every species of fish is different and, within the species, every single individual fish is different, too, and she's hoping she can demonstrate that this takes time to learn all the fish you can when you see them. No, her hand positions aren't much different from each other, but the slight differences, how one is closed at the end like a small cave and the other is open like a tunnel, but they are, at the end of the day, different and these little differences can have a huge impact on communication.

Shand watches her interacting with the fish like they're all friends of hers, the way she touches each one and knows exactly what to do to make it feel comfortable.

He knows all living beings are complex- it's true about fish and it's true about people- and it blows his mind how incredibly different each one truly is. The hard work and dedication it takes to know how to relate to each one well.

It makes him feel a little out of his depth, like he doesn't know what the heck he's doing, in a larger sense. But nonetheless, watching her stroke the fish, them nuzzling her hands like they adore her, is as motivating as it is heartwarming.

He holds his hand up and goes back and forth from looking at hers to trying to position his correctly, but something about it is wrong and he moves closer to her side so that he can hold it up for her help again without disturbing the fish that are so taken with her.

She looks back and forth between his hands and his face, watching him silently ask for help and, for the first few seconds after the request, all she can do is smile.

But she's working with the limited time he can hold his breath so she gets to work, taking her hands back from the fish which both dart away quickly, hiding in the coral. He seems upset by that but she shakes her head, telling him to be patient as she adjusts each finger of his with care, making sure his hands are near perfect.

He's stiff again, unsure of what he's doing but he generally allows her to position him the way he needs to be and that's all she needs to get it as close to right as possible for someone who hasn't been practicing for years.

The way he holds himself is much like a confused and curious child, arms out in front of him, looking at her face to make sure he's doing things right, seeking her approval, pouting slightly when the fish don't return even after she's assisted him. It all makes her want to laugh.

Instead, she swims around behind him, placing her hands on his back, gently pushing him forward in the water so he's closer to the reef. He goes to lower his hands once he's there but she reaches around from behind to catch his arms, keeping them in place, staying pressed to his back, hair flowing out behind and around them both.

After a long moment, the yellow fish swims back out and inspects his hand before nuzzling inside his grasp. The orange fish peeks out, keeping its distance but seeming very interested in the human silently offering another good pet.

Luna continues to reach around him, resting her hand on his, tilting the angle he holds it out slightly, but the change is all the fish needs and it instantly swims to Shand, wriggling against his palm.

She keeps her hand on hers as she watches with a patient and happy smile.

Shand's caught between the ridiculous joy he feels at watching these fish actually interact with him, feeling their scales brush his hands, and the strange warmth he feels at her pressed into his back.

He can feel all of her skin, can feel her tail and her soft fins rippling against him in time with the water's movements. Her hand is even still resting on his, and he can't get over how close she is, how soft and warm and comforting it feels to have another being, someone gentle and patient and sweet, this close to him, touching him.

She's even close enough that he can turn his head ever so slightly and see her hovering there just behind his shoulder. He has this strong, strange urge to just whirl around and kiss her. But he knows that would be wrong. That would make her uncomfortable, right?

As he's trying to sort through those thoughts, that familiar burn starts flaring through his lungs and he decides he won't let it go too far this time. He brushes his fingers against the friendly fish one last time and starts treading through the water toward the surface.

When he breaks through, he throws his wet hair back off his forehead and lets himself cling to the side of the rowboat as he catches his breath and she bobs up low in the water beside him.

"You're really beautiful, do you know that? Has anyone ever told you that? Well, I️ guess if you don't have friends maybe no one has. But you are."

It doesn't take but half a second after the words leave his mouth for her face to turn bright red and her eyes to go wide. She doesn't know what to do with her embarrassment other than shake her head and drop down into the water, keeping only the top of her head above the gentle waves.

Someone has told her that before multiple times but it had always felt... Wrong. It's not that she thinks the other person never means it, she believes that being means every slight sound of the words, but the tone and look in her eyes makes it seem dark. Without fail, it will always run a chill down her spine that she had to hide.

But this feels different. This feels genuine and pure, no alternative meaning or goals other than just to say it, to state fact. His honesty, his earnest eyes and happy smile, she's becoming quite attached to all of them, to him.

She peeks above the surface to look up at him, seeing that he's still watching her and she has the strangest desire to propel herself right out of the water and throw herself onto him, to swim around like children for hours until maybe even she can't swim anymore. Impractical as that may be, especially with how late it's getting, it's all she wants.

There's no time to play shy and bashful so she comes back out to join him properly but, before she can address the matter, she hears walking above on the ship. A few men are talking about some sort of plan, some idea to catch something new, stopping at harbor soon, docking their ships with some lovely ladies, and every single part of the conversation confuses her as she presses herself into the small shadow of the rowboat.

They mention something about coming across another ship tomorrow for a quick trade if their maps and calendars are correct. Something about that last part excites her, sparks her curiosity. This isn't the only ship she's ever seen, but it is the only one she's ever had anything close to interactions with and now she may get to see groups of humans talking and interacting together across several ships.

She looks to Shand, waiting for an explanation for everything.

Shand's face falls immediately, the excitement and curiosity of having been so close to her draining away.

Once the men have left the upper deck, once they're no longer within earshot, he lets go of the side of the boat and sinks in the water, down to his lower lip, letting himself hover and float there almost like she does.

"Meeting up with other ships means going to harbor soon. The same captain owns all the ships in this fleet, all the ones that fish in this part of the ocean, so when one goes to dock, it transfers nets and provisions and stuff over to the other until it goes back out. Sometimes after being out here a while ships can stay docked for weeks."

Shand clearly isn't thrilled with that idea, the youthful wonder and easiness gone from his face, his brows furrowed a bit and his lips in a tight, thin line.

"I️ don't like docking much. I️ don't like it at all, really. There's not a whole lot of point to it for someone like me."

And although he's been talkative the whole time since he's met her, he suddenly doesn't feel much like explaining that he has no one, that he is no one, that being on land is useless and isolating and more often than not painful. The only point worth being made is what he's already said, it makes no sense for him.

He doesn't want to launch into an explanation of how upset he'll be if he can't see her for weeks, either. Has he gotten so used to having someone who will listen to him only in the few short hours they've had together? He would miss the way her eyes search him, the way her hands, innocent and curious, reach out to explore whatever is new to her.

He sighs and grabs the side of the rowboat again, hauling himself over the side as it tilts and bobs and makes waves. He tousles some of the water out of his hair, shivering a bit now exposed to the cold night air.

He's up out of the water without a warning and it stings a little to see him leave so easily. It stings even more to think about not seeing him for weeks on end.

Luna flings herself up onto the boat, almost completely out of the water minus her long flowing fin, grabbing his arm and tugging on it a few times to demand his attention again. His near instant turn towards her eases some of her stress but she's still looking at him with wide-eyed worry and fear at the idea of the sudden thrust back into loneliness.

Why do they have to dock for weeks? Why can't it just be a few days? Maybe she could follow his boat to wherever the harbor is and stay in the bay, stay close enough to still see him. She's not sure how high up the docks will be but, if they're as tall as his ship, they won't be able to speak much but maybe she can toss shells and pearls up to him when no one is looking.

Something, anything, she can't go weeks without this. Hours with this is enough for her to realize how dull her life was before this and she doesn't want to go back to it.

She points to the bag of pearls as if asking if he wants more, asking if maybe that will help the entire trip take less time, getting a little frantic. She'll find bags more of them if it'll help.

He manages a little smile when she holds the pearls out to him, but his eyes are still weary and worn down.

"Hold onto those."

He can't bring himself to say much more, and he knows it seems like he's clamming up and all of a sudden has nothing more to say, and maybe he does feel that way. Once he has to go ashore, he can't expect her to be waiting around for him.

She's as good as said it- she travels the ocean, like he does, but that doesn't mean she's always going to travel around following him. He's not her entire life or her first priority.

He's sure that once he finally gets back on the ship and they set sail again, she'll be gone. And she has every right to be. His heart feels a little hollow at the thought of the loss of her, of going back to how things had been before, him in his rowboat and nothing and no one else.

But it's not fair to expect anything else, and it's not really fair to say much of anything else and steal anymore of her time. He sighs deeply and lets his gaze fall on the bottom of the boat, defeated.

Luna tilts her head as she watches him, seeing an expression on his face she's never seen before, and she can't help but move her hand from his arm, placing soft fingertips on his face to study it further.

It's sad, but it's also so much more than that and it makes her brow furrow as she tries to place it, but also because it doesn't suit him. She wants to see him smile again.

Not knowing what else to do, she kicks her tail up like she had last time, smacking the bottom of the boat like trying to remind him of their signal for each other and, while that brings a smile to his face, it doesn't last.

So she does the next thing she can think of, hoisting herself into the small rowboat, landing of the bottom of it with an unceremonious thud, tail kicking up and splashing water on both of them. He had seemed happier when she was sitting next to him before so she pushes herself up and around to sit here again, wet hair clinging to her.

She looks over at him with a smile, resting her hands on her lap, trying to appear as comfortable here as she does in the water, anything to fix the mood the men above had made.

He can't help but laugh at how funny it sounds and looks when she heaves herself up beside him, folds her hands in her lap all properly.

"You look ridiculous."

He chuckles at himself, the laugh wearing off.

"Still beautiful, but also a little ridiculous."

He rubs the back of his neck, trying to push the tension down along with the encroaching need for sleep. When he pulls his hand back, he feels the smooth coolness of the shells she'd put there earlier.

"I️ bet I️ look a little ridiculous too, huh?"

He makes himself smile, knowing that's what she's here for, why her slow, gentle hands had felt along his frowning mouth before.

"Do you..."

He pauses, thinks he can just let it go, that he needs to get used to not letting his thoughts out again, but dismisses that and keeps going.

"Do you ever feel like other people are the ones in control of your life and even though it makes you unhappy and miserable and it hurts you, you have to do what everyone else says and you don't even know why, but you have to. And there's no way out."

It makes the smile fade from his face again, and his lips twitch instead as he tries hard not to grind his teeth together.