Chapter Text
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here.”
Initially, you think perhaps you should be a little more concerned. Downright petrified from what you know after you had consulted with many of the other aquatic life you had passed by on the way here. The last one had been over a kilometre away from here. Passing by her, the habitat was completely barren save for sea anemones and the occasional slug. Rather than worry, exhilaration had coursed through you from the tip of your tail to the very end of your nose. An expedition few, if any had made it back from and you were diving in head-first. This was almost like the time you’d tangoed with the tiger sharks by the reef. You still show off the battle-scar whenever you recount the story.
This, however, was not the shark-infested reefs. This cavernous area was known for the tyrant which ruled the seabed, appearing out of thin water as if a curse sent by the kraken themself! Countless of stories whispered from ear to ear, passed from fin to fin and soon enough, ‘Strider’ was a name one learned to fear.
When you’d first heard the moniker and the legend behind it, your old noggin had raced two steps ahead and suddenly you’d conjured a big, ugly bastard with razor sharp teeth, glowing red eyes and spines that stuck your two feet, arms and head in the grave!
Well, two out of three . Those certainly were some mighty sharp chompers (pearly white as they may be) and although the eyes weren't red per se, in any dimmer light one could easily mistake the glowing ring of chartreuse outlining the edges to be so.
"Hey," Strider snaps again, and you're snapped out your ogling, "I asked you a question that you better give me a damn good answer for."
"Boy frigging howdy, you're a lot prettier outside my head!"
Surprise flickers across his face momentarily before his fin- wings spread wider, purple pulsing menacingly across the expanse and oh, there's those spiny doodads . The day was still young and the electric blue of his spines had seemingly blended in with the surrounding visage of the ocean, but now, you could trace all their sharpened tips and they were all pointed at you.
"Not the right answer."
Righto, it looks like you've horribly overstayed your welcome and if you don't do something in the next two ticks, you were going to end up as this mer's morning chow, and that just wouldn't do. So you screw your eyes up tight, suck in a deep breath and-
"Ugh- what the fuck? "
It's not your proudest defensive manoeuvre, but it's plucked you out of a few hairy situations before and this time was no different. With Strider's olfactory senses suddenly inundated, you swing your tail down and propel yourself off the seafloor, shooting upwards and out of the cavern, not slowing in your ascent until you're a good distance away. When you finally stop to catch a gulp, relief comes in the visible lack of his presence nearby.
Phew! That was too close a call but gadzooks if you didn't get a spanking story out of it. Not many had seen the fellow in the scales himself and live to tell of his (wonderful) tail. Yet here you are, the sight of his wings blocking out the light of the surface still fresh in your mind. Although, it's probably best you don't linger for long. It wasn't the most pleasant of greetings for either party, and you doubt the smell saturating the water will stop him for long.
Quickly, you swim off, still buzzing with the thrill of a near-death and the promise of a newfound respect for your name, when extend your left arm for a stroke and it- doesn't move. It stays dangling limply by your torso, swirling pools of red in your wake and the realisation clogs your throat like dry sand. Or, that might just be the toxin.
Clams and fucking corals! You must've somehow managed to nick yourself on one of his dadblasted spines when you launched off earlier. How long has it been since then? A couple minutes? More? Then there was no time to waste. With your working arm, you pull the other close to your face, pressing your mouth to the cut and sucking hard. THe metallic tang of blood fills your mouth and with hurried distaste, you try to filter it out your gills as soon as it enters your throat. You've practiced this enough before than now, you can keep up this uninterrupted 'inhale' for a good minute!
Even so, the venom's already had so much time to sink into your veins; coat your organs with malice and wrap venomous tendrils around your slowing heart. Your right arm falls dead, gills flare, tail thrashes and good gravy if your g'ma saw you now, she'd roll in the seabed. Although, maybe now was the time to put the theory 'are ghostfish real' to the test.
"G'ma, if you're out there, I could really with a smidge of aid scooted over my way!"
"Sorry, bro, it's just you and me, and the big blue sea."
Fuck! You can barely move at this point, head supported by the unrelenting push of the water around you, but in your peripheral, you can see the familiar canvas of vivid, marigold spots accented by purple. It would be almost mesmerising if it weren't for the fact it was attached to the guy who was going to snack on you! Excuse you, but you are NOT a piece of meat.
"I'd say you've got approximately 5 and a half minutes before your heart decides to play hooky with my venom and ditch your joint. So if you got anything to say, you can say it now. Oh, no friends or family members though. Y'know, on account of me probably eating them."
Your stomach plummets. Even if your g'ma wasn't with you anymore (Triton rest her soul) you still had all your other family and friends back at home. Jane and John and Jade and shit, you probably weren't going to see them again and you told them you'd come back and visit soon and now here you are, about to be gobbled up by some coldcocked cur-
"Tick tock, bro."
"Oh for frigs flipping sake, for such a looker, you sure aren't anywhere near as charming with your words, are you?"
His brows both disappear into his hairline, and a surprised chuckle slips unbidden past his lips. Jake scowls at him, the best that he can now that he can't really feel his face.
"For a guy that's about to be chewed on like a fine piece of fish fillet, you sure are ballsy, aren't you?"
"Pack it in, Strider. At least I'll be able to dine with Jones over your lack of sportsmanship. What jerkwad catches a gent unarmed by fanning about like some top-tier betta ripe for the runway, only to turn out to be no better than a great white with a territory issue?"
The tingling of numbness has started to sharpen to pin pricks, all across your arms, your chest and rapidly spreading over your tail. It takes gnawing on your bottom lip to try and distract yourself and keep focused on the predator easily circling you.
"Dude, I am literally about to eat you and you're still complimenting me? You get off on kicking the bucket or something?"
You think that maybe if you weren't battling to breathe, you might've been a little more affected by the comment on your sexual interests. For now though, you merely wheeze out a frustrated growl and flash him your dirtiest look. Again, a little difficult without sufficient oxygen to your brain. Or functioning nerves in your face.
He's stopped just in front of you, floating lazily as he observes you with curiosity. Like you're the bamboozling specimen here instead of him. The pain has doubled by now though and you're aching to just curl up to try to alleviate some of it, but your fingers don't even so much as twitch in response.
"Just-" Your words are gasped out, lids falling heavy, "friggin- swallow me already. You abstruse, fork-tongued hooligan!"
There's a long moment of silence and for a moment, you think you've already flopped over, belly-first before you hear him say, "Yeah. Okay." Two similar points of pressure form on your back and you vaguely feel the flow of water across your body before the pull of unconsciousness lulls you under.
***
Fire licks under your skin, slag churning steady in your bones and you're charring, gills flaring as you burn up. It's so familiar, this feeling. So reminiscent of that time you were beached after a massive wave had picked you up and thrown you far up onto the sound, leaving you fighting for air; a battle you were losing badly. It didn't typically harm you to stay up on the surface, as long as you were kept hydrated and your left lung wasn't obstructed. That day though, the sun had been beating down mercilessly on your battered body, your unprotected tail taking the full brunt of the heat. Just as your vision was fading, you think Triton decided to throw you a bone (or a wave_ as the cool splash of water surrounded your body, invigorating you just enough to bodily haul yourself across the land and into the safety of the deeper waters once again.
Yet, this heat was slightly different. The way it undulated around you; an unending current of molten lava through your gills. Perhaps this was the Hell that you'd heard in snippets from the sailor's songs that carried over the waves sometimes. You'd marvelled at their stories before but no longer did you find yourself so voraciously intrigued. You really wished you could have seen your grandmother though. Or anyone, really. There wasn't anyone else though; just yourself and the throbbing heat and boy frigging howdy would you really rather not have to deal with your relentless consciousness for this.
Almost as if a prayer answered, a burst of pain suddenly sears through your chest and your thrust into wakefulness via a fit of coughing, body bent over as you hacked up what you were pretty sure were your lungs. Good fucking gravy you were boiling . The water around you was stagnant and suffocating and the whipcrack of fear shot through your body as you fought against this invisible attacker. There! A shard of light piercing through the darkness of the water. The water protests the shift as you race towards the entrance, shoulder just brushing against an obstruction in the dark but you're suddenly out and the rush of cold water is oh so soothing against the crawling sting across your skin.
You're heaving, sucking in water like you've just swam a gosh darn marathon and slowly the flames of teeth relinquish their hold on your body. The pulse of blood is still loud in your ear, but your vision if just fine if the glowing figure in front of you is anything to go by.
"Yo. Look who's finally awake. You know, for a second there, I thought maybe you actually did die."
Contrary to his words, Strider is floating innocuously off to the side of this...cavern? Room , your brain helpfully supplies. A small pile of dull scales sit near him.
"Who-" You pant, stumble and try again, "who cooks their food first?"
He rolls his eyes, pulling out another errant scale from his tail and tossing it into the growing pile.
"I've heard it's a popular culinary method with the humans up above. Thought I'd give it a try; expand my palate or whatever."
He's not making an immediate attack against you, so you let your eyes dart around the room. All around, the walls have been cut smooth, arching into a high-ceiling dome above your heads. The only visible exit seems to be that past Strider, the archway just big enough to fit one. Righto! If you just gung-ho it and charge at him, hopefully that should knock him for a six long enough for you to make your hasty getaway.
He must catch where you're looking though, because he casually extends one wing and stretches out the full length of his spines. Don't even try it.
"Hey, I'm not going to eat you. I was just keeping you in my chill zone. It's the only place with a high enough heat to dissolve the shit that got into your body."
The blueprints of your daring escape plans dissipate in lieu of this new cloud of curiosity.
"I won't fall for your lies, you silver-tongued cur! I know exactly what your game is and you can bet your bottom barnacle that I won't be losing this round." Your cheeks puff out, chest expanding and ready to defend yourself when he holds up both his hands in surrender, his wing now pressed flat against his body once more.
"Woah, slow down there, big guy. Just let me explain before you expel whatever that rank ass power move you've got going on there," Eyeing him warily, he doesn't seem to be displaying any signs of hostility so you nod and deflate a little. "okay, don't get me wrong. Originally, I was going to make you my midday snack. Growing guy's gotta eat, I'm sure you get it, but..."
"But?" You prompt, somewhat reassured by his use of past tense. Imagine!
He shrugs, scratching at his tail, "But looks like that didn't happen, huh?" It's a little hard to believe that this awkward mess of nerves was earlier the same predator that had been moments away from taking a generous bite of your merson and it soothes your frayed nerves in a way that tickles you enough to elicit a laugh. He looks a little taken aback by your reaction and you think he might be grumbling something under his breath, but it's hard to hear over yourself.
"Land sakes alive, you've had a few corals knocked out your reef, haven't you?"
"Says the mer who's laughing in the face of death." You file melodramatic away in your expanding lists of this mysterious Mr. Strider.
"Jake English," you introduce yourself and give him a beam as you extend a hand, "and you are?"
He frowns at your hand, his own balling into fists at his side as he opts for a nod your way instead.
"Dirk Strider."
"Dirk," you try, rolling the name in your mouth like a particularly saccharine sweet, "D-i-i-ir-k."
"That's my name. Feel free to wear it out." He seems to catch himself and frowns again when you laugh, but there's a telltale orange creeping up his neck.
"Dirk Strider. Prince of the Peaks. Scoundrel of the Sea!"
"Man, y'all couldn't come up with something a little more creative?"
"Well, there's not much else we can say about you. You're one elusive mer, Dirk Strider."
"And I intend to keep it that way," he says, sharply glancing your way, "I'll let you go if you don't breathe a single word about this. Just because I reside here, doesn't mean I'm totally tethered to it. I'll know if you talk any shit so you better not-"
"Oh, put a clam in it already," you say, cutting him off (which rewards you with a particularly nasty glare), "I'm no blabbermouth. I know when to keep my gills shut so don't get your tail in a twist about nothing."
You only realise he was tense before when he relaxes his shoulders and gives you a nod.
"Cool. Then you can get out of here."
"Aren't you just the friendliest fellow! Now that I'm here and you're not going to gobble me up, why don't we have a little chat? Shoot the shit and what have you."
He looks weary now, sighing harshly through his nose and fixing you with a tired stare.
"Did you get bounced around as an egg or something? I'm giving you the opportunity to go free and you're voluntarily choosing to stay instead?"
You shrug. What's wrong with a little chat? It's not because you've gone a good while without having a good ole' heart to heart with anyone. It's part of being an explorer after all. So what if the sea seems mighty big sometimes? Your tail is just about big enough to hug. And if you ever get a little lonely then you can pop your head up and maybe listen to the sirens sing sometimes.
"It's not everyday I find someone so pretty on the peepers."
That shuts him up. He won't even look at you right now and it's putting your best smile to waste.
"Definitely bounced around as an egg," Dirk mumbles, "find, if you're going to stick around, then you better not set off that stink-bomb of yours. What is it anyway?"
You explain to him that nifty little defense mechanism of your species - "A dragonet, huh?" - emitting a foul-smelling substance in the water, secreted by glands under your skin. You produce another similar sort of mucus, but this one lines the entirety of your tail since you lack the natural protections of scales.
"Wait, what? You seriously don't have any scales on you?"
Shaking your head, you do a slow little twirl and stretch out your tail. His fingers reach for it, but you swish you tail away. You may be touch-starved but not that touch-starved.
"That's why I've got to stink up the place like a whale's dumping ground! If it hadn't been for you confounded spikes, I would've gotten away. Anyhoo, I've told you what I am, now you tell me what in the dickens you are."
"Not sure. Flying gurnard, I think? Although I can fly about as much as a wet mosquito." You gesture for him to stretch out and he hesitates briefly before doing so. His wings fan out in an array of bright colours, each one mesmerising in it's own right.
"Now I've seen plenty of painting in my travel but holy toledo, Dirk. You're a frigging masterpiece!"
Immediately his wings fold shut, accordioned against his body and you make a little noise of protest which he shuts down with a low drumming in his throat. Guess he wasn't all that chuffed about your comment.
"Okay, show's over. If you've heard enough about me, then you can go."
You know an order when you hear one. A little disheartened, you swim towards the exit and cast him a forlorn look, which he doesn't even acknowledge. Fine! Just because he's being a downright sourfish, doesn't mean you can compromise your integrity as a gentleman.
"Thanks a billion for not slurping on my bits, Dirk." Aha! A reaction. Well, you weren't really expecting a choke on his part, but it's something at least. "I'll swing around your block again tomorrow so don't go anywhere. Ciao!"
Off you race, not waiting around to hear his disapproval of your cheek. Good Triton it's been a day! You only wish you could spill the deets to your pal, Jane. You know she just loves hearing about your dangerous adventures. No matter. It's a very small fee to pay if it means getting to grow a little more friendly with your newfound pal.
You just know you're in for a treat.