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The smells of the surface are still new to him. Orm does not broach land, does not want to risk contact with humans after his attempt to drown them all, but he seeks time alone away from Atlantis, away from Arthur. A break from the responsibility is welcome, a moment to breathe in the earthy scent of rain-dampened rocks and the salt of the ocean air.
He has found a place that he likes over the weeks since Arthur had claimed the throne, a little rocky islet that juts out from the waves beneath at low tide and exposes a cave within. He breaks the surface, the transition between water and air painful at first. It's still raining, just a little, clouds breaking into blue sky here and there. Barnacles cling to the rocks and cover whole sections, silent and unmoving. The sound of the sea, of waves roaring in his ears, is one that is dulled underwater. Orm understands what humans like about it; calm and rhythmically soothing, it's almost like company out here in the short time he spends by himself, sat atop the jagged islet or in the opening below.
The sun's rays peek through an opening chink in the grey above and for a fleeting moment, Orm is certain he sees something moving at the very top of the rocks, like shimmering scales in the light. Likely a fish caught up there when the tide was in, unable to get back down when the water receded. Curiosity compels him to investigate, to confirm his suspicions, but as he climbs the sharp ledges and feels the grit beneath his fingers, the more of you he sees, the more spellbound he becomes.
The illustrations of your kind in books do not do you justice. He recalls a phase in his youth when he'd spent much time in Atlantis' library trawling through endless tomes and scrolls on the merfolk, but he sees now most of it was fantasy, leavened with the tales of elders who knew a time before your kingdom had been sealed off to all outsiders - including Atlantians.
Pale skin still damp from the rain and the sea that is dotted with little patches of scales here and there; long fair hair that flows all the way down your back and is adorned with shells and strange ornaments, and your tail - the appearance of which is widely debated and hugely varied, depending on the source - is striking. A beautiful blending of blue, green and purple scales that begin from your torso catch the light and shimmer like the surface of the sea. It's so long that it coils around a jagged spike of a rock twice, then back onto the flat ledge where you sit, and then curls back on itself. The end is not like a fish's tail at all, but more like a very large leaf that is wider than your waist. It moves constantly like the slithering of an eel, although you do not, leaning back and sunning yourself with your eyes closed.
Orm feels loathe to intrude, simply standing and observing you barely a few feet away. When you turn your head and offer him a shy smile, he's pretty sure he stops breathing. Your nose twitches before you speak, a delicate movement that is utterly endearing.
"Good morning, Atlantian," you say. "Won't you sit with me? I'd enjoy the company."
He needs no more persuasion. Sitting beside you, close to the leaf-like end of your tail, it occurs to him that you're not supposed to be here.
"What are you doing?" he asks stupidly. The words stick in his throat and don't come out the way he wants.
"I like the warmth of the sun on my skin," you reply, tilting your head upwards once more and closing your eyes. The droplets on your cheeks glisten and he is mesmerised watching one slide down your neck.
Orm thinks more carefully about what he's going to say this time, to try to ensure he explains himself better. "Your people have been living in isolation since long before I was born," he says. "I understood that isolation was enforced."
You sigh gently and sadness flickers across your face. "It is," you say. "I found a secret passage, a crack in the wall a long while ago. I come here to see the sunlight." Suddenly, you twist your upper body to face him, a flash of panic in your eyes. Your eyes. They are bright and beautiful. "You won't tell anyone, will you?" You implore him. "The punishment for leaving the safety of the walls is... well, rather unpleasant, to say the least."
He studies you for a moment, trying not to become entirely lost in your gaze. "I won't," he promises.
That seems to set you at ease and you turn to face the sky once more. "Thank you," you say as he takes the opportunity to look more closely at the rest of you.
Your nails are a little like claws, not necessarily long, but sharp. Orm knows from his previous reading that fish is the staple of your people's diet. He thinks perhaps your teeth are a little sharper as well, but he doesn't like to ask. You are a living being, after all, not a pet to be prodded and poked. The patches of scales interest him, too. There's one on your forearm, another in the middle of your back and one that dips below the silky white wrappings that cover your chest. That too is decorated with shells and he wonders if you have put them there, or if it was made for you. Either way, it suits you very well.
Orm's cheeks turn a fierce shade of red when you notice him staring. He diverts his gaze, but ends up looking at your tail, again. Now he's close enough, he can see thin, whispy fins that rise a little way below your back and end halfway down the appendage.
"You can touch it, if you'd like," you say quietly, batting long eyelashes at him with a small smile.
His hand seems to move of its own accord, heart thumping against his ribs as he cautiously lays a few fingers on your tail. It feels very much as he expected; smooth and cool, with the slightest texture where the scales meet, like lines drawn on paper. His touch trails a little further upward in blind curiosity, but when he nears the almost-translucent fin, a movement passes through the entirety of your tail like a shudder. He withdraws his hand, but finds you giggling, your face a little flushed.
"That tickled," you tell him, shifting a little.
The sun shines more strongly now as the clouds begin to dissipate. You make a pleasured noise that prompts him to swallow the lump in his throat, basking in the warm light once again.
"Isn't that lovely?" you ask, leaning back on your hands to feel the heat wherever you can.
Orm knows that the ledge where you're sitting will dry up soon without rain. The tide wouldn't be in for hours yet. One common fact in all of the books he has read state that mermaids cannot survive without water. When the rocks dry out, you'll suffocate, in a sense. The books described a horrid process of the skin shriveling, dehydrating. Orm is reminded of when Arthur told him about humans pouring salt on slugs to kill them.
He feels ill just thinking about you looking like that, dying like that. Suddenly, as he peers down at the rocks below, still far from the water, he understands.
"You're trapped up here," he says. There's no possibility you'd be able to leap far enough to avoid a painfully sharp landing.
You tilt your head and hum, apparently not so worried about your current predicament. "Yes, I suppose I am."
"You'll die before the water rises high enough to make the jump," he says.
"I will have to hope that it rains again," You reply. "Or that the sun goes in and the rocks stay damp, but I don't think I'd like that. After all, the only reason I come here is to see the sun."
Orm knows what he must do. He has never been especially chivalrous, but perhaps it is time to start acting like it. He cannot not leave you up here. Such a deed would be wholly heartless.
"Would you like me to take you back down?" he asks and his offer clearly leaves you surprised, but greatful nonetheless.
"Would you?" you say, eyes wide with a touch of relief that he can almost feel.
"Of course," Orm replies.
He tries not to overthink, tries not to look down as he picks you up carefully. You loop your arms around his neck and squeeze your eyes shut, awaiting the rush of air and you are so close he can smell you, sweet flowers and the salty sea. Orm holds you a little tighter than he's willing to admit, bracing himself for the change between breathing air and water before leaping away from the rocks. The wind is searing on the way down and for a moment, he wonders if he's hurting you. The little gasp you give against his neck almost makes him forget himself, makes him want to never let you go. The feeling is fleeting. As soon as he plunges below the surface, he has to focus on keeping his breathing steady. It still hurts, even after becoming accustomed to it and it seems to have the same effect on you; you are clinging to him, chest rising and falling as your hand presses over your heart.
"Thank you," you say as he releases you. "I'm not sure I would have made it down by myself."
In the water, your hair fans out and seems to become more fluid, blending with the waves, or perhaps it's just a trick of the light. Orm isn't sure, but before he has the chance to inquire, you lean in and kiss his cheek with a tenderness that is almost alien to him. Momentarily he can't move, stunned by the tiniest display of affection that leaves him wondering if all of your kin are so gentle, so carefree (he doubts it, after a little deliberation). You give him a wave and a smile before you are leaving him, tail glimmering as you plough downward into the darkness.
It's with a pang of regret that Orm thinks he never got your name.