Chapter Text
A week passes.
Then two.
Mike stays perched atop the cliff every single night. Same book in his hand, one he should’ve finished rereading ages ago, but he doesn’t read, doesn’t daydream either. Just looking. Waiting. For anything really, more strange shapes or movements. Anything to prove he isn’t crazy.
Nothing happens.
His eyes skim across the far sea and sky until he memories the shapes and slopes of each standing rock. Though his gaze often time fixed on one rock in particular, now much emptier. His thumbs fiddling the corner of a page, rough paper turning soft and weak with each hard press.
A sound cuts through the silence and Mike’s head snaps towards it. On his far right, he sees it again, a seagull. There’s no way to tell if it’s the same one but this too is standing atop yet another rock. He quickly makes his way to the other end of the cliff, kneeling down from the peak.
He squints his eyes, trying his best to take in the scene before it vanishes again. Right at the bottom of the rock, where hard surfaces meets the splashing waves is the vague silhouette again. Thunder roars behind him, and it appears as if the odd shape is leaning back against the stone. From this angle it almost looks like moss, the lines extending from it, the patterns it forms. All before it moves, intentional and deliberate.
Lightning strikes somewhere far off in the distance and the silhouette swerves towards it. Mike’s face furrow with confusion. Not moss then, not a bird either, not a fish of some kind. Deep curiosity echoes in the chambers of his mind. The urge to investigate and figure it all out bubbling within him.
The dark figure moves upwards, no longer resting above the water, almost floating midair now. The stone still blocking most of his line of sight, Mike positions himself to view the scene from the side. His eyes go wide.
It looks like almost smooth like skin. The same colour contrast between the stark white of the bird and dark black of the rock. Connected to the lump of moss, the rest of the vague silhouette disappears beneath the waters.
Mike’s eyes stays glued to it, not knowing when it might vanish from his visions again. He takes in the sight best as he can, memorizing each detail. When enough time has passed, to make up for the past two weeks, Mike focuses on just observing.
The odd form only performs subtle movements, nothing frantic or fast. And Mike zones out staring at it. He has not the slightest idea what it is but that doesn’t help the deep want to just keep looking, gazing, studying the object. He wants to know what it is. And he will. But for now, he somehow feels sated with just admiring from afar.
The seagull squawks again and the shape is gone just as mysteriously as it appeared. Mike’s breath stutters a little, already feeling the sorrow of no longer witnessing it. Whatever it was. Mike stays for just a few more minutes, maybe ten, twenty at most. Just in case the form makes a sudden reappearance. His hope go unanswered and he sighs, deep and sad.
Pushing himself off the damp grass, he picks up the long abandoned book and makes his way back to the castle. If anyone were to noticed his late return and soil stained clothes undoubtedly from the cliff atop the oceans, no words are uttered. Probably due to the solemn look on his face.
The feeling is bittersweet. He’s happy to finally, properly see and take in the strange form. Relief that these past fourteen days haven’t gone to waste, that he was right. But at the same time, he doesn’t know how much longer until his next encounter. The want to examine, notice new features and elements so overwhelming.
He lies awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. For reasons he’s entirely unsure of, he thinks the object, is quite similar to him. From its rather relaxed composure, all lithe and calm, much like how he is when he’s reading up there. When he takes in the ocean view, the scent of the salty seawater, bright moonlight lighting the darker waves.
He thinks they could be, quite similar.