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How Big, How Blue
(Prompt: It's kind of an unspoken rule for us mermaids to not reveal ourselves to humans, but I've been watching you work as a life guard on my beach and I think it's about time I try this "drowning" thing you humans do that always brings you into the water. Title from the Florence + The Machine song. Rated K+)
There was something very odd about the human.
To begin with he'd managed to startle Caroline the first time she'd seen him. In her habitat, a place where he should be the one lacking in grace. It had been very late, the skies dark and the moon, a few days shy of full, the only illumination. She'd ventured close to the water's surface knowing that the humans would have long since retreated from the ocean.
They were delicate, had such trouble with the sea even during the days when the sun shone and warmed the water, forever shrieking and splashing and hopping out to apply that odd white paste only to venture in again and go through the same routine. Once night hit and temperatures cooled the humans preferred to stay on the shore, light their fires and cook their food on sticks while huddling close together under piles and piles of fabric.
At a young age Caroline had taken a liking to their music. She took every opportunity she could find to listen to it, often found herself humming along and swaying, taking care to keep herself obscured either by drifting just below the surface or hiding under docks or alongside tethered boats.
The evening she'd first encountered the unusual human who'd piqued her interest she'd been doing just that, floating on her back to keep her bright hair obscured. There were only a few people out that night and faint white clouds formed every time Caroline exhaled. Her eyes had been closed so she'd felt the disturbance in the water before she'd seen it and had immediately submerged herself with an ungainly splash, slipping deep into the water until her hands were brushing the sandy ocean bottom.
Wide-eyed she'd watched as a human passed over her, his long limbs cutting through the water in powerful strokes.
He'd worn none of the funny garments humans wrapped themselves in when they took to the water, not the flimsy brightly colored bits some preferred nor the sleek second skins some squeezed their way into when they planned to spend more time in the ocean.
That night he'd worn nothing at all.
She'd told herself to avert her eyes, that it was the polite thing to do, but her gaze had remained riveted on the pale expanse of his flesh on display, the way his muscles rippled as he slipped through the currents.
He'd never know about her wandering eyed, a tiny voice had whispered. Besides, it was her ocean, wasn't it?
Many of the mermaids Caroline knew weren't fond of humans. Her father spoke longingly of the days before their waters had been infested by them, sneered every time one of the huge ugly square dwellings they seemed to live in sprung up along a previously beautiful stretch of beach.
He'd be livid if he knew that one of Caroline's favorite past time was to watch them. They were just so… interesting.
Her curiosity had flared watching the human swim away from the beach and she'd found herself following, staying well under him as the water deepened, eventually growing alarmed as his distance from the shore increased and he showed no signs of flagging, his movements sure and steady.
Didn't he know the ocean was dangerous for a creature as frail as he was? That there were things that would delight in chewing him up and spitting out his bones for his human friends to find washed up on the shore?
Sure, the ocean would be peaceful immediately afterwards, the humans too wary to venture in. Caroline's father would be pleased. For a time. But humans always came back and sometimes, in the interest of safety, attempted things that were more of a hassle than their usual invasions in the name of fun.
Plus, Caroline would miss the music.
Her worries had been unfounded that night, the water around them had remained still, no predators making themselves known. Even the more benign species seemed to give them a wide berth, Caroline had spotted a small school of Bluefish veer sharply east, making their way around the oblivious human unprompted by any action on her part.
Very, very odd.
She'd just been debating doing something, what she hadn't been sure as revealing herself was strictly forbidden, when he'd finally slowed, and pulled himself upright to tread water. She'd made a slow circuit around his form, her senses tuned to make sure there were no threats nearby.
Caroline had not been in the mood to spoil a fine evening by fighting a shark, or something even worse, that sensed easy prey. Encroaching on her family's territory would be idiotic but Caroline had imagined that some might risk it for. Opportunities to steal a human so cleanly that far from land were rare.
She'd been on guard, tense and wary, the human oblivious above her. Caroline could hear his heart beating, listened to it gradually slow from its rapid rhythm as his motions grew languid.
She'd grown a touch concerned – had he overexerted himself? If so however was she supposed to get him far enough up onto the shore where he'd be found and helped without being seen? He hadn't acted like he'd been in any distress but still she'd drifted closer, reaching out to touch him, and had been startled by the warmth still being emitted from him and had immediately snatched her hand back, retreating further once it became clear that he was fine, had just been resting.
Her withdrawal had been a stroke of luck, as it turned out, because he'd ducked under the water, dangerously close to where she'd just been, and began to swim once more, this time back in the direction he'd come from.
She'd trailed him, her puzzlement growing, because he hadn't seemed the least bit tired, and his motions remained as strong and sure as they'd been on his way out. Humans were weak as a rule, not suited for the ocean, and easily exhausted by fighting its waves.
Except for this one, somehow.
He'd surfaced once more, a fair distance from the beach, paused and veered away from the small gathering on shore, swum west for several minutes until he'd aimed for land again, coming up on the opposite side of a small outcropping of rock, hidden from view of the other humans. She'd watched as he'd retrieved a small bundle, rubbed himself dry and dressed in unhurried movements. As if he didn't even feel the cold like a human should.
He'd padded away, swallowed up by the night, unaware that Caroline's eyes tracked his every movement.
She'd watched him until he'd disappeared, lingered even after wondering if he'd come back, before beginning her long swim back home.
Still, he remained on her mind.
The puzzle of him flitted through her brain at odd times over the next few days. Finally, unable to stand it anymore, Caroline took a chance and slipped away, back to the beach. It was still light outside, the sky filling with pinks and oranges as people trickled out of the water.
She spotted him right away.
Dressed in familiar clothes, the ones she often saw on a handful of humans, those tasked with the safety of the others of their species (and sometimes called to pluck a wayward one out of the water) he paced the border between the dry and wet sand. Some stopped to talk to him but never for very long, each dismissed and sent on their way.
He seemed impatient, edgy, the lines of his body obviously tense even from a distance. Once the beach was deserted he relaxed, if only minutely and Caroline watched with interest as he peeled his shirt off, tossing it behind him so the tide wouldn't take it, before taking several long strides into the water. Once it was waist deep he dove, not surfacing for a very long time.
Much longer than most humans could manage.
Caroline knew then that she was going to break a very big rule, that she couldn't not. She had far too many questions.
Tomorrow she'd come earlier. There was always a girl who got theatrical, flailing her arms and making a fuss as she pretended like the water was overcoming her, all in the hopes that one of the young men who watched over the beach goers would perform an act of heroism. Caroline would observe, see if she couldn't figure out a (more subtle and less ridiculous) imitation.
The next time this human went on his midnight swim she'd be ready to make his acquaintance.