for jollyboat: anywhere you go

[whisted]

He doesn't quite fit.

Horatio had known, of course, that he wouldn't. Even if he had managed to make his way onto a ship years ago, everyone would have known he was odd. Perhaps it's for the best that he's clearly just a bit skittish, just a bit uncertain of himself unlike the other young men his age. Perhaps that would distract the human mind from looking to see just why, exactly, this one didn't seem to be quite entirely right.

It was, nonetheless, one thing to know and another thing to live. Being bundled in heavy unfamiliar fabric is surprisingly uncomfortable. The uniform is far more restrictive than the clothing he had forced himself to become accustomed to while hovering around the port. The sensation of being on a boat, despite the familiarity of the sea, is throwing his stomach through something of a loop. He can't shift and change direction. He can't twist along with the waves, comfortable and easy, or cut through below the discomfort of breakers tugging in the wrong direction. It's unnatural, here on a warped version of the surface. It's twisting something uncomfortable in his shoulders, almost dizzying as he tries to find his feet under him.

This is what he wanted, and it doesn't quite fit.

For the most part, feeling his skin in the sack slung over his shoulders is reassuring. His fingers can worry against the familiar softness with each odd rush of discomfort. This, after all, is the back-up plan. This is the fail-safe if everything falls completely to pieces and he needs to throw himself simply back into the sea. This is the piece of himself which will always fit properly, no matter where he is.

That's why it's resting at the top of his sack as he scrambles up properly into the ship. That's why, in the bluster of humanity, the young selkie doesn't notice that his skin has spilled out onto the deck.

Comments

[jollyboat]

He glances over his shoulder nervously before tentatively waving back. He leans in just a hint closer to Horatio to murmur the question.

“Can they— understand me?”

[whisted]

Even to human ears, Horatio is certain the bubbling noise Archie's wave inspires is clearly a laugh.

"They can." His own voice is barely a breath. He expects they'll be left alone well enough as long as they don't call attention to themselves. "The sirens teach them."

This particular pair might have been taught by Horatio, but that was neither here nor there.

[jollyboat]

“‘nd can they— hear us okay? Talking this quietly?”

He doesn’t want to risk much louder than this.

[whisted]

"They can." Which doesn't stop him from clicking his tongue at the creatures below to properly catch their attention. "They're just coy, sometimes."

With the amount he told them about Archie, Horatio suspected they would be too curious to be properly aloof.

[jollyboat]

“And— they’re the ones, right? That— killed him?”

His voice drops a little more at the second question, even as he steels himself to speak properly to the mermaids below.

[whisted]

For a heartbeat, his hand shifts to squeeze more properly at Archie's wrist. It's unconscious and entirely protective before his body can settle again.

"They are." They, after all, were the ones who asked after Archie--and who were fascinated rather than concerned about this most recent shift between the two sailors. "They wanted to meet you."

[jollyboat]

The squeeze helps considerably. The squeeze has him breathing a little more easily, his shoulders settling from where they'd tensed up at the memory.

"'ve wanted to meet them, too," he murmurs to Horatio, before his attention turns to the mermaids, "I wanted to-- thank you."

...i just reread this whole thing I'm not crying you're crying

[whisted]

There is, unsurprisingly, a certain coyness as the mermaids watch the pair at the rail. It sinks almost immediately into a wild sort of glee at the young man's words.

Their teeth are sharp. Their fingers are like claws. Their eyes, dark as the deeps, are nonetheless the most obvious sign of danger in them--and now, those savage orbs are glowing with a certain unrestrained glee.

Horatio has to duck his head slightly to hear the soft clicking and snarling of the mermaids, most of which blends seamlessly into the lapping of waves against the ship. "They were.. glad to do it."

it’s a fave tbh

[jollyboat]

Well. At least he doesn’t have to worry about any scars to the mermaids’ consciences. That helps.

What helps more is realizing how easily he means what he says next.

“‘s— good. He needed to be— gone.”

strong fave ;;

[whisted]

Archie has been free for some time now. This still feels like a new release.

"He did." Another rush of soft whispering noises from below, and Horatio hazards a brief flash of his own long teeth. "They heard what I told them about him, and... they said the same thing."

ye ;;

[jollyboat]

Oh. That earns a briefly uncomfortable shift. He trusts Horatio implicitly, but the statement can't help but make him wonder.

"What-- did you tell about him?"

[whisted]

"That he was worse than the rest."

The men who trapped mermaids in their nets and dragged them from the sea. The men who stuck wax in their ears to bring themselves close to sirens and steal their songs. The men who took skins and hid them so that a selkie always trailed behind them like a ghost.

"That he wouldn't even let-- other men be free."

The hiss from the mermaids surely needs no interpreting.

[jollyboat]

Oh. That's not so bad as he thought it might be. That has Archie relaxing considerably.

"'s-- definitely true."

[whisted]

They're secluded enough. They're as safe as they ever are on the ship.

It's an easy decision for Horatio to duck his head, nudging against Archie's shoulder with an almost animalistic gesture of devotion.

The mermaids seem much more pleased by that.

[jollyboat]

Honestly, Archie is much more pleased by that, as well. It earns a far happier hum from the young man as he ducks his own head to bump lightly against Horatio's. It's a brief gesture, but an entirely fond one.

"--Thank you."

[whisted]

That deserves the flicker of a smile. The brief expression is magnified as the mermaids chitter softly below, clicking their tongues and calling in soft voices like the gurgling of water swirling around the sink of an oar.

Horatio lets his face wrinkle, much more relaxed and mobile with signs of home clinging to the ship.

"They said to tell them. If you ever need more help."

consider: mermaids killin sawyer well before archie gets the chance to be a dumb

[jollyboat]

Archie can't help the soft gratitude on his expression, at that. His nod is directed down more properly at the mermaids.

"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you."

consider archie being the one to ask them for help

[whisted]

The next rush of language gets a huff from Horatio, his own voice briefly lost in a low little noise not meant for a human throat. The peal of laughter from below is likely recognizable, as is the light blowing of kisses before the mermaids sink away again.

"...well."

There's something hopeful lingering at the edged of Horatio's features.

he might tbh. would the boyf be mad at him, tho?

[jollyboat]

He can't help the brief wave before the mermaids descend. His hand drops after a moment to lightly catch at Horatio's shirt.

"That was nice."

not terribly or for very long

[whisted]

"It was."

Pulling Archie slowly and carefully into his world is more than nice, really. It's so much building proof that things really will slot into place for them.

"Thank you for talking to them."

that’s a good then :>

[jollyboat]

“Thanks for introducing me.”

He grins softly one last time, before he has to start to let go. They’ve lingered too long.

<3!

[whisted]

The sigh on Horatio's lips as Archie pulls back sounds utterly human. Part of it, of course, is settling back into being this self--something more solidly in the human world than introducing his shipmate to mermaids.

"The rest of their pod will be jealous."

:>

[jollyboat]

He hates having to pull away. He has to accept, however, that it’s something he has to do.

He does still linger a little closer than is strictly necessary, at least.

“I imagine they don’t— often get to meet a human.”

[whisted]

"Meet?"

There isn't a delicate way to explain that most humans that saw mermaids met Simpson's fate.

"No. Not often."

[jollyboat]

"'ll count myself as lucky as well, then."

Because he can certainly imagine mermaid and human encounters going much the way they had with Simpson.