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

"It's-- me."

His voice shakes entirely at that, his lower lip wobbling briefly before he drops his head. Petting his skin for a moment helps to make the words sink in and provides him with an excuse to look away to compose himself.

When he glances up again, his expression is more like silent stone, though there's gratitude in his eyes and his voice.

"Thank you, si-- Mister Horatio.

From:

midship

It's heart-wrenching, but Horatio forces his features into a soft expression like a smile.

"Hm. Let's get you settled."

Sleep would help with that. Sleep would also let the poor pup have a few hours without having to carry this heavy load.

From:

meonmyway2stealurgirl

"Okay. Thank you."

He's gonna be pulling his skin up into his arms entirely nervously as he gets ready to follow the other selkie.

From:

midship

"Of course."

Horatio will give the pup something of a wide berth as he guides the young one to the daybed. It smells far more like the sea, after all, worn but comfortable from the number of their kind who have briefly settled into its cushions.

"...I'll stay?"

Just on the other side of the room. Just settled with a book at the window.

Just where he could watch the door.

From:

meonmyway2stealurgirl

There's a long beat of hesitation; a brief uncomfortable twist in Elliot's shoulders even as he sits on the daybed. He trusts Horatio enough, yes, but they did just meet and everything is so new and uncomfortable still.

But Horatio is a selkie, and better him nearby than the human-- even if the human had returned Horatio's skin.

"...Okay."

From:

midship

It's for the best that the pup is still a touch defensive. It's the beginning of allowing himself instincts in the big, wide world he's stumbled out into.

"I'll just be there." He nods toward the far window; a good perch for watching the tide come in and the road up to the lighthouse. "If you need anything."

Or if anyone else needed to be intercepted.

From:

meonmyway2stealurgirl

He can't help but still look a bit dubious, his grip on his skin still entirely firm. Even around the selkie who had returned it to him, he can't help but be skittish.

"You'll just-- sit?"

From:

midship

"Aye, just there."

There's a volume of something or other resting against the sill. Horatio picks it up absently as he nods out the window.

"To watch."

To stop anyone sneaking up.

From:

meonmyway2stealurgirl

"To watch."

He bites his lip slightly, but eventually nods.

"O-okay."

So he'll be settling into the daybed, cautiously tucking his skin under his head.

From:

midship

His voice dips briefly, almost unconsciously, into a soft huffing noise. It's the sort of habitual little sound that had been used to lull generations of young ones to sleep, usually while nudging in against them in an effort to help them be still and easy.

It's not quite the same from across the room. Hopefully it still helps.

From:

meonmyway2stealurgirl

It helps. Having his skin as a pillow helps considerably as well. And, really, the exhaustion of the day is absolutely something that catches up to him.

It'll take him a bit to sleep, but sleep he will eventually. It'll leave him much more rested when the time comes for him to finally try his skin.

From:

midship

The circumstances could be better. The path to where they're sitting now could have been happier.

But it settles something comfortably in Horatio's chest to keep this protective watch over a pup.

His own features have brightened toward a smile by the time Elliot wakes again, hovering somewhere close to contented when he finally sets down the book an stands to stretch. There's a question on his lips, although his mind sets it from him in the old language of their kind rather than the words of men.

From:

meonmyway2stealurgirl

It's a little disorienting, at first, waking up. It's confusing to not see the ceiling he's woken under for his entire life. But blinking awake more properly does get him better into sorts, and he starts to sit up again-- still shifting to check on his skin and bring it in close once more.

The soft sound from the older selkie earns a tiny furrow in his brow as he directs his attention to him.

"Sorry, did y'-- say something?"

From:

midship

They'll work on that. They'll build to that. Maybe this little one will even stay here long enough to begin to master that.

"...you slept?"

Elliot certainly looked better rested--in no small part, Horatio suspects, for having been able to press in close against his skin.

From:

meonmyway2stealurgirl

"Yes, si-- Mister Horatio."

Despite the brief fumble, he is smiling softly. He does look more rested.

"Thank you for-- keeping an eye out."

From:

midship

It's a more comfortable mistake, now. It's easy enough to shake his head without a fuss, moving his attention to the familiar task of pulling together more food for the evening meal.

"Of course. Come sit?"

From:

meonmyway2stealurgirl

"Okay."

He'll be carrying his skin with him, of course, but he'll still approach without much tension in his shoulders.

From:

midship

It looks better. It looks more like the pup is learning to be comfortable with his skin, rather than desperate over it. That's several steps in the right direction.

The food Archie eats is likely better for Elliot's stomach still. Besides, the slight distance of searching through the little pantry will probably encourage the boy's shoulders to stay relaxed.

"We'll go out when it's a little darker."

From:

meonmyway2stealurgirl

"'ll right."

It's easy enough to accept the statement, even as he glances out the window to check the light outside.

"'s gonna be-- safe out there?"

From:

midship

"Very safe."

The fishermen had ceded it to their kind, longer ago than Horatio had been the resident keeper. It was safer still, of course, when Horatio's mind is set on keeping it so.

"Good place to learn."

From:

meonmyway2stealurgirl

"'ll right, then."

So he's going to start eating (maybe a little too quickly) so they can start getting ready.

From:

midship

The eagerness is good. The press of Horatio's lips in on themselves is still fondly amused.

"A little while yet."

From:

meonmyway2stealurgirl

That earns a bright blush on Elliot's cheeks as he slows down a little bit.

"Sorry."

From:

midship

Odd, how familiar that sort of flush feels. It's been years since Horatio had been utterly plagued by it, but it drags at the protective sensation in his heart all the same.

"Don't apologize." It feels just a bit harsh. The soft huff he adds likely doesn't mean much to the pup, so he repeats softly, "I'm... excited too."