whisted | for jollyboat: anywhere you go

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

meonmyway2stealurgirl

He doesn't know where to go.

He's still bruised from Mariette's latest beating. He's exhausted from staying up so late to try and time it so he could sneak to steal the skin he's clenching to his chest now. He's shaking from feeling like he's actually whole, now-- that the pelt has helped to fill a gap he had known was there but didn't know what for.

He doesn't know where to go, exactly, but his feet are taking him towards the sea.

It's just that it's a rather crowded day on the beach. It's just that it's been some time since he's been out among this many people, and it's the first time he's been wandering with such precious cargo. It's just that he's convinced one of the swirling faces around him is going to be Mariette Reynolds, come to take him back to the prison he once called home.

It's just that he can't help being shoved into an older man walking by, and his skin is spilling out of his hands.

It's just that he can't help the absolutely terrified sound that escapes his lips, being separated from his soul again.

From:

midship

This one is far too young to be here alone.

It's always surprised Horatio that humans didn't notice when selkies slipped among them like this. Each of his own kind seemed so utterly distinct, so strangely vibrant, so magnetic in a sea of human faces.

This one is like a flicker, weaving in and out between taller forms. This one can barely be more than a pup, although Horatio expects his estimations aren't quite as sharp as they used to be. This one must have been plucked from the waves, because no one would have allowed him to come this far into dangerous territory on his own.

It would be better to approach slowly. In a perfect world, there would be a chance to crouch down and call softly, to let the frightened thing move closer on his own time. But the world is far from perfect.

Horatio knows he's moving too quickly as he ducks to snatch the pelt up again. He knows he's still moving too quickly as he presses the half-unfolded skin back against the youngling's chest. It's just that it's impossibly important for the poor thing not to feel even more alone in this swirling mass--and impossibly important that no human fingers reach the fur first.

The sound in his throat comes in a low worried whine. He had meant to say something soothing, and the thoughts had simply defaulted to the affectionate sounds his own mother used to soothe him with while at sea.

From:

meonmyway2stealurgirl

He's still shaking from the accidental separation when his skin is being pressed back into his arms. He curls it back up into his chest instantly, nearly nuzzling against the fur that is starting again to feel familiar. He glances up at the man meaning to stammer out an apology and a thank you-- and realizes upon looking up and hearing him that he isn't a man at all.

Elliot never got the chance to grow in his herd but he'd had, for as brief of a time as it was, Nadia. Elliot doesn't understand what the sound the selkie speaking to him just made means, but he remembers that it's supposed to be comforting.

He still can't keep himself from clinging tight to his skin. From being entirely nervous as he finds the words to respond because he doesn't know how to make the sounds instead.

"P-please don't-- tell."

Maybe he'll try to bring him back to Mariette. Maybe that's what his life is meant to be, on land.

He doesn't want it.

From:

midship

That's almost better. That's almost just an important lesson for a pup to learn, taught in the relative safety of an older selkie's attention.

But that shake in the voice isn't better. That repressed panic practically vibrating off the young one around the word 'tell' isn't better at all.

"...of course." Motion can be slower now. Horatio shifts his weight very gently to shield them both from the worst of the bustle around them, glancing down toward the shore. It's far too busy a day for the little one to be heading right for the water. "Come this way, hm?"

Herding isn't quite the same with legs and arms. Still, Horatio expects the instinct to maneuver the boy toward the crag without touching will ultimately come naturally enough.

From:

meonmyway2stealurgirl

"O-okay."

He'll follow the gentle direction easily enough, even if he is still glancing nervously at the man. It's easier to trust him than Mariette, because a part of him recognizes his own kind-- Even if it's been years since last he saw one.

From:

midship

The skittishness isn't just a matter of youth. The longer he has the pup in the corner of his eye, the more Horatio is certain of it. The weight of too many years are clinging to this little slip of a frame.

That, more than anything, begs the soft question as they walk.

"How long since you were home?"

From:

meonmyway2stealurgirl

He doesn't mean the Reynolds'. That's all Elliot can properly process as he keeps following the other man (selkie. The other man is a selkie, just like him.) His attempt at a shrug is hindered by the fact he's still clinging his skin close.

"I don't-- remember."

It's been a long time since he's been in the sea.

Edited Date: 2018-10-05 04:03 pm (UTC)

From:

midship

There's something in the half-stutter that drags Horatio's lips back a hair, long sharp teeth flashing briefly at nothing in particular. It takes a moment to reel himself in and bring softness back to his voice.

"Need to practice, then. Can't just-- rush in."

The sea always welcomed her own home, but she could be painfully harsh to those who had yet to learn her ways.

From:

meonmyway2stealurgirl

It's probably for the best. He doesn't even know if knows how to use his skin, after all.

But both the words and the brief flash of anger in the other selkie's face still earn an obvious bit of terror from the boy, arms scrambling to hold his pelt even closer.

"I can't go back there. They'll take it away again."

Because where else will he go besides back, if not to the sea?

From:

midship

"You aren't going back."

It's too sharp again. It's too sore a point in his heart, apparently, not to bristle. A half-step of distance between them hopefully helps while he works to soften his features again.

"You're going there." His chin juts briefly toward the lighthouse at the end of a long craggy outcropping. "You'll eat something, and you'll sleep. And tonight--" Another jerk of his head, toward the small natural bay created by the extension on which the lighthouse sit. "--you'll learn."

From:

meonmyway2stealurgirl

It’s easy enough to look where he’s being bid to. The way the older selkie steps back to give him space when he bristles is a reassuring thing, after all.

It’s just the thought of setting foot into another building rather than the sea gets his heart lurching in his chest.

“It’s— safe?”

From:

midship

His lips twist gently, like the echo of a smile, as Horatio studies the lighthouse for a moment.

"It is." But this pup is frightened. This poor thing can't have seen much more of humanity than the cruelty of keeping wild things in cages, after all. "But not empty."

His own fingers flicker briefly toward his side, touching at the place where his own skin has been snugly hidden. They'll have to find a better way for this little one to carry his own soon.

First, though. "The man who gave me back my skin lives there."

From:

meonmyway2stealurgirl

“Gave— back?”

There’s a lot to be confused and maybe frightened about. The fact that the lighthouse isn’t empty should be worrisome. The fact that it’s occupied by a man should be frightening.

But the older selkie is smiling. The older selkie seems to still have his skin.

“Really?”

From:

midship

There's no stopping the smile now. Even worried as he is by the pup, thinking of the man he's loved for decades always relaxes a grin over his lips.

"Really."

His fingers at his side give a small pat--both to indicate the slight plush softness of his pelt and, gently, to call the youngling's attention to the way he'll want to carry his own someday.

"He... understands." Which still feels like a miracle, most days. "And he'll stay-- away. If you want him to."

From:

meonmyway2stealurgirl

How fascinating, to learn of a man that wasn’t full of cruelty. To learn in such a gentle way how to hide his skin. It’s a lot to take in.

It will take time, to learn to trust all of it.

“You’ll... be there too?”

From:

midship

"If you want me to be." It's odd, having the passing thought that this little one probably hadn't grown up feeling safest in a pile of brothers and sisters. "Whatever helps you sleep."

It feels impossible that the best thing would be the silence of an empty home. It also feels impossible to know how long this little one had been kept from himself.

"Need to be rested for a long swim."

From:

meonmyway2stealurgirl

“I don’t know how to— do any— of it.”

How to protect his skin. To make the change. To navigate the sea safely. To know who to trust here on land.

The other selkie had seen him panic and given him back his skin. Right now, he’s the safest being in the whole universe.

“I’d rather have— someone.”

From:

midship

The smile is tugged down slightly at the corners again, attention drifting to the pup. He's far too young to be out on his own--but far too old not to have been taught.

The lump in his throat keeps his voice soft, at least.

"Then I'll stay." And it wouldn't be such a difficult thing to explain to Archie, he suspects, why it might be a good afternoon for the man to talk a walk along the shore. "And you'll learn."

From:

meonmyway2stealurgirl

“Okay.”

It’s an equally quiet response.

“Thank you, sir.”

Both Mariette and Thomas had insisted on the formality. It seems like a safe bet that the other man will expect the same.

From:

midship

It used to feel like a natural thing from men. It feels entirely wrong in this soft little voice that ought to be barking and yammering with abandon.

"...Horatio."

From:

meonmyway2stealurgirl

Oh. That’s going to take some getting used to.

“—Thank you, Mister Horatio.”

There’s another beat as he shifts his skin delicately in his arms.

“‘m— Elliot.”

From:

midship

This smile isn't quite the same as the one that comes for Archie. Warmth still sneaks around the edges.

"Of course, Elliot."

The path toward the lighthouse is a rocky thing to navigate, so Horatio slows slightly. Besides, this one must need time simply breathing in the proper salty air.

From:

meonmyway2stealurgirl

He’ll have to follow very carefully. He’ll have to shift his skin around a few times to be able to balance appropriately.

He’ll have to marvel just a little at the way the sea smells from this close.

But the cautiousness of following does prompt another soft question, “How d’you keep it from falling when y’ve got it— hidden away like that?”

From:

midship

Ultimately, Elliot will manage, Horatio is certain. There's something so incredibly clear about the young one's gaze at the waves that he can't help but feel the truth settle in his chest.

He still feels the sea. She'll welcome him home again.

"...pocket. I'll show you."