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Whenever he was near the ocean at night, if he really concentrated and stared deep into the star-garnished waves, Stede could remember his mother. None of the memories of her were clear - all washed out and hazy, spread across his mind like fading ripples in the water, but he could still remember her; blonde curly hair flowing in the wind, sea green eyes, and sun-kissed skin dotted with little freckles. If he really sealed his eyes tightly, let the ambient noises fade to the most neglected parts of his subconscious, he could hear the lull of her voice, songbird-like and soft in every situation.
He had always liked the ocean, so he was no stranger to popping down for a visit, but ever since he discovered her in the waves, his little trips down to the shore grew in frequency. Contrary to what one may think, it wasn’t because he missed his mother; he was too young when she left to remember much of her anyway. No, it was more so that he missed the idea of his mother. In many ways, though his father had raised him, he felt more at home here, seeing his mother's soul on the sea foam.
One evening during dinner he had off-handedly mentioned his little trips to his father, and though it was decades ago, Stede still remembered every painful second that followed. The slam of his cutlery down on the plate that stopped Stede’s breath painfully, the borderline growl that emanated from this chest, and the way his father’s eyes burrowed into him, chipping away the relaxed calm that had made Stede’s tongue loosen in the first place. The clock had ticked on, sound painful in the otherwise tense silence, before finally Stede’s father managed to hiss out a single demand: That he not go near the water at night again.
So, naturally, being the curious teenager he was, he had completely disregarded his father’s demand and snuck out to the sea under the full moon anyways. It was a long walk, and he could feel his heart hammer in his ears, but he just knew that he had to go back to the water. He couldn’t quite put words to why it was so important to do it immediately at that moment, nor could he later whenever he thought of that night, but his legs just knew that they had to walk to the water and they had to walk now .
There was not a single soul - animal or human - on the beach that night, and yet it felt bursting with life. As he stepped onto the sand, Stede realised hazily that he had slipped off his shoes at some point in the journey without noticing, and yet it didn’t bother him. The sand was like silk between his toes, and any and all worries were shone away by the moonlight and washed away by the rocking of the sea. The only remaining thoughts bouncing around in his clouded head was that of moving forward, further and further towards the waves, which he gladly followed.
Even at the time, what happened when the wave of water enveloped his feet was confusing and muddled. He remembered the wave of relief, the tether of the pull completely letting go and truly falling into a deep state of bliss, before he was ripped out of the state by the salty water on his skin turning to a blistering inferno. With a cry that broke through the still night, he fell into the ocean, the waves swallowing and trapping everything below his waist.
It was the most painful thing he had ever experienced. The water slipped its way into his trousers with ease, every drop burning in white-hot flames. Helplessly, he shrieked, but that did nothing but invite more splashes of pure fire into his throat. All at once, his muscles painfully spasmed, his legs snapping and twisting in an ungodly, fleshy sound as they burned more and more. The short, shallow breaths he could take felt like breathing in spikes, as though his lungs weren’t designed to take in air, and under the pain rose panic as he was unsure he would ever survive this.
And then, it just… stopped.
With a gasp, the air returned to his lungs, an added strange feeling in his cheeks as he breathed deeper and deeper. Exhausted, he stared up at the stars, not caring that the tide was soaking his golden hair, his cream shirt, and his… wait .
Stede shot upright, staring at where the wet fabric of his trousers should have been clinging to his legs. Yet, though it should have by all logical means been there, there were no trousers on his body. There was nothing even resembling legs .
He should have been panicking. If one suddenly found themselves with a long fishtail where legs once were, the peach skin of one's hips bordered by clusters of sea green scales that turned into a full tail, complete with deep blue fins, any reasonable human being should have panicked. Yet, as Stede traced over the sensitive scales of his new tail with slightly webbed fingers, he felt not panicked, not scared, but content and sad and wonderful all at once. His eyes grew misty, tears rolling down his face and his gill-slitted cheeks rose in a smile.
This , he realised, had been his home all along.
---
“Uh, captain? Captain?”
Stede’s eyes jumped towards the voice, the blank, distant expression on his face morphing into shock, which promptly turned to a relieved, warm smile. “Yes, Lucius, is there anything you need? Did you run out of pastels? If so, I’m sure I can find another box-”
“No, no,” Lucius interrupted, “I still have plenty.” Quickly, he glanced around, before leaning closer into Stede, and lowering his voice; “It’s actually you I’m worried about.”
“Me?”
Lucius nodded; “You’re looking a little… green , captain.”
Initially, Stede felt more confused than he had been before, but when Lucius’s eyes subtly travelled to a certain spot on his cheek, it all clicked. With a new set of panicked energy, his hands sprung up to cover those things he was now confident had begun showing on his cheeks. “Now that you mention it, I’m actually not feeling all too well,” he said, backwing away from the railing of the boat. “I think it may be best if I retire early to bed, don’t go too late to bed yourself, and you would do best to leave me alone, in case it’s contagious. The last thing I would want to do is get any of you sick. Goodnight!”
He ran off before Luicius could ask any further questions, or anyone would get concerned enough for his health to check up regardless of the risks. After all, going to bed when the sun had barely begun to set was a sight never seen on the ship before. It was really an awfully inconvenient time to disappear, as the crew would undoubtedly start searching for him soon to get their nightly story, and yet Stede knew he had to go now: he could already feel the shift happening.
About halfway towards his chambers, he caved and began trying to slip out of his clothes as he walked. At times like these, the fabric of even the softest of silks felt like it was made of thousands of tiny wasps, buzzing on his skin and stinging in painful pricks repeatedly. Had he not liked the coat and shirt he was wearing, he would have ripped them off right there in the moment.
Collapsing through the chamber doors, promptly shutting them behind him, he stripped the last of his clothes off and headed to the auxiliary closet hidden in the room. Dumping his clothes on the floor - which did destroy a part of him but he reminded himself that there was little time left - he practically threw himself over the mirror, trying to see how far the transformation had progressed. His skin had indeed gained a slight turquoise undertone to it, two small openings that Stede knew would open up to gills had formed on his cheeks, and if he looked very closely, he could see small, scaly patches forming on his entire body.
Staring at his own reflection, he took a couple of deep breaths, trying to focus on the completely human aspects of him with every inhale, and banishing thoughts of anything non-human with each exhale. It was a trick he had picked up living with Mary, and though it didn’t do much to quell the pull, the yearning for the ocean waves, it did allow him to stay mostly human looking for long enough to get to the sea. By his tenth round of breaths, his skin looked almost its usual self, though the longing and pull had intensified.
Calmer, and sure his legs would stay, well, legs , he planned the nearest and least conspicuous route to the water, retrospectively thanking his former self for including so many secret passages. Double checking that no one was lurking outside his door, he began heading for a small place at the front of the ship, under the bowsprit, both shielded from sight and relatively easy to jump back up to from the sea. Walking felt strange and slippy, as though the ship’s planks were solid ice, but even with his largely reduced speed, he made it under the bowsprit just in time for the tether of the pull to become truly intense.
Stede didn’t even bother to check if anyone was near this section, as the second he saw the ocean, that primal rope pulling him towards the water tugged - hard . Before any logical part of his mind had fully understood what was happening, he had already thrown his body off the ledge, fingers webbing and scales sprouting mid air. As soon as he hit the water, the final bit of release came, sea foam warping its way around his legs as they stretched and burned immensely, the pain ceasing to reveal his long tail waving peacefully in the sea.
All the tension - both from the pull and from the day - seeped out of him, swept away by the current of the ocean. It felt like he was taking his first breath in a month, and in many ways, he mused, that was more fact than feeling. He swam up to the surface of the water, poking his head above to glimpse peacefully up at his ship, illuminated in the magical light of sunset.
Everything felt right . His home, both literally and figuratively was finally befitting of him, befitting of his soul . The sea was but a jump away, his tail but a quiet night and a sneak away from him. The very idea was deeply calming, and though this wasn’t the first time he had transformed on his time at the ship - nor would it be the last - a newfound calm rippled its way through his entire body.
Or, at least, it should have, had it not been for the small gasp that sliced through the calm with all the gentleness of a lion.
The warm water around him turning to ice, he glanced up at the railing he had thrown himself over, to discover Jim leaning over it, staring at him with wide eyes. The two looked at each other in near silence, the only sounds present being the brief splutters of Stede’s racing thoughts that were abandoned halfway off his tongue. Finally, with Stede’s gills flapping so fast he was worried they would tear, Jim pointed to himself, before motioning zipping his mouth shut in a clear, almost dramatic movement.
Stede didn’t have much time to react in any way, as the moment Jim had finished his gesture, he headed back through the small passageway to the inside of the ship. The merman just stared after him, torn between jumping back onto the ship to chase after him and making 100% sure that Jim wasn’t fetching the rest of the crew to point Stede out to them, and wanting to just dive back into the water and swim his worries away. Ultimately, the itch of his fins led him to opt for the latter, diving deep into the blue abyss and attempting to let the worries float to the back of his mind.
It was the first time anyone had spotted him. Well, that wasn’t completely true; he had been spotted by a young man, once, who ran away hastily, and a group of young kids, who he’d entertained until the footsteps of their parents had sounded out on the beach. But this was the first time he’d been spotted by someone he knew . Someone close to him. He supposed that he was lucky that it was Jim who spotted him, and not someone like Black Pete, but with Jim’s skill of silent communication, the mute could have easily conveyed the news if he wanted to.
He swam until the bright orange sky turned a deep blue, stars occasionally peaking over dark clouds. Part of it was simply revelling in the joys of feeling the water caress his skin, but another part of him was convinced that the moment he stepped foot or tail onboard, he would be kicked from this little crew of his, a fate he in many ways considered worse than any physical harm. ‘ At least ,’ he consoled himself, ‘ I had this long with them .’
Eventually, as the water became black as tar, he knew he had to head up. Enjoying the feeling of breathing with gills one last time, he swam up, and broke through the surface, the anxiety flowing back with the first breath from his lungs in hours.
To his surprise, there was no sign of an angry crew staring at him over the railing. In fact, as far as he could tell, there was no one at all. Slowly, he swam a little closer, seeing if he had simply been too far away to see them. As soon as he was sure there wasn’t anyone there, he dived one final time, before jumping out of the water at a tremendous speed, and gripping the first thing he could with slightly less webbed fingers. He almost slipped back into the water - for he had to admit, strength and agility were not his strong suit - but this was hardly his first go at getting up on the ship, and so after much struggle he hauled himself over the railing, tail and all.
As he lay on the planks, exhausted, he caught something out of the corner of his eye. He realised he had, in fact, missed something from his view down below: not a crowd of angry crew, not Jim pointing a gun to his head, not a clear ‘ Stede not welcome ’ note from Lucius, but a soft towel and his silk night robe, folded neatly by the passage entrance.
And for however small a gesture it was, Stede couldn’t help but smile. He would be okay.
---
Despite great, flawless, perfect subtleness, Stede realised that Jim was hardly the only one aboard who knew what he truly was.
A couple weeks after the incident some land had been spotted, the first time they had seen land in ages, and it had been unanimously decided to make a quick stop to pick up some more supplies. As soon as they docked, his crew had excitedly stormed out onto solid land, as though it was the door to heaven. Stede wasn’t far behind the energetic group - simply delayed for a quick outfit change - however before he could so much as reluctantly step foot on the land, he found himself stopped by Oluwande.
“You know, captain,” he began, “everyone will be busy on land, far away from the coast, for a long while. If you have anything you need to do, that might not be so safe to do with others around, now may be the time.”
Though Stede prided himself on his diplomacy and social skills, he caught the hint with all the skill and grace of a drunk hermit. “I don’t think I have anything like that to do,” he said, his face scrunched. “I’d never do something that wasn’t safe for my crew - that wouldn’t be very polite of me, after all. Anyway, shall we continue on?”
Stede, figuring the conversation done, tried to take his first step onto the sand, but a hasty series of protesting noises kept his foot awkwardly mid-air in an aborted move. “ Captain, ” Oluwande began, oddly serious, “I’m sure there’s something that might be best to do now, instead of risking someone catching you later.” With a blank silence hanging in the air, Oluwande sighed, subtle hinting cranked up a notch: “Swimming, perhaps?”
Finally, Stede’s floundering attempt at perception finally caught the hint, the blank silence replaced with a disbelieving one. “ Oh ,” Stede said, no louder than the wind-still trees around them. Oluwande nodded, not confirming but definitely implying they were on the same page.
There was a moment of complete stillness, as the realisation fully sunk into Stede. He had always known that out of all of his crew, Oluwande was the most likely to hear - or perhaps see - from Jim: they had always had a sort of kinship, obvious to all onlookers, and their ability to understand one another seemed practically telepathic, so in a way, didn’t surprise him all too much. What did, however, surprise him, was that Oluwande would not only make it known to Stede that he knew, but actively help him .
Before he had even finished his sentence, Stede could feel himself beam bright as the summer sun. Though his words still darted wildly on his tongue, he managed to reign some in, and utter a short “ thank you” coated in so much sweetness that it could give the entire crew a sugar high. Oluwande still stood stiffly, however he smiled in return, and was quick to leave Stede, whose scales had practically popped out right in the moment.
He swam that afternoon with radiating happiness not only from the freedom of floating freely under the waves, but from having someone care for him. Someone to carry the burden with him, someone to help him, somebody he could - if only in silent glances and subtext not daring to become text - talk to . After all these years it felt good , the current of panic reduced from a maelstrom to a stream.
Over the next short while, Stede would find the current decrease in strength even more, as he realised that he may have slightly underestimated the number of people who knew. If by slightly, one meant that the two or three people Stede thought might know, turned out to be everyone. Or at least, he was pretty confident everyone knew. No one had actually said anything.
It was only the small things clueing him in. Like how everyone from Frenchie to Wee John would loudly declare on some evenings that they were heading below deck, and Stede would be left completely undisturbed for a while, or how on those evenings, he would always find a selection of raw fish in the kitchen, assumedly put there by Roach. Certain members kept a closer eye on him, such as Black Pete, intensely staring at Stede as though he expected the merman to casually walk around with gills and scales, and Lucius, who had suddenly gained a newfound interest in drawing merpeople, watching him in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the sea green tail.
The least subtle of them all were the two blonds among them. Though The Swede did not stare, he continuously ‘sneakily’ stalked Stede with thudding footsteps. At first, the captain had felt a little hurt at the gesture of mistrust, however, on an evening with slightly too much rum, the Swede had confessed to simply wanting to hear a siren’s song. Stede, relieved, had happily sung a heartful tune, though as the rest of the crew would quickly realise, being a merman did not automatically gift one with the ability to hold a tone.
Stede also had a suspicion that Buttons was following him around, but he had never actually caught the man in the act. Rather, his suspicions arose from the fact that Buttons always appeared at exactly the right place at exactly the right time. Or, exactly the wrong place at the wrong time, depending on how eager Stede was to be bombarded with enough facts, myths, and stories about merpeople that he should be entitled to a doctorate in the matter.
Perhaps, Stede mused, he should have felt annoyed by his crewmates' new treatment of him. Or, perhaps, he should feel annoyed at himself for being so reckless and causing his tightly sealed secret of scales and gills to spill out. Or maybe even mad at the scaley side of him, mad at it for complicating everything, mad at it for forcing him to pick between safety and a true sense of contentment, the two seemingly conflicting wishes pulling his mind in a ruthless game of tug-o-war.
And yet, despite all this, Stede felt nothing but grateful .
Decades of hiding who he was, decades of living in fear, and here, in the same environment where his tail first sprouted, he could finally let himself relax . It felt freeing, and oddly appropriate. Away from his wife, away from his father, and on the waves that burdened - no - gifted him in the first place; yes, it was no wonder that he felt stiller than he'd ever been.
Days passed since the realisation that everyone knew hit Stede, turning to weeks quickly in the bliss of his newfound happiness. The crew - though they would never look at him the same - slowly got used to the fact that their captain was a merman, and for every smile, every captain, and every small gesture of acceptance, Stede felt the tension, worry, and need to hide seep out of him.
Retrospectively speaking, with the arrival of a certain infamous pirate, Stede realised he may have let himself seep slightly too much.
---
Stede, Ed had decided, was a man stranger than he initially appeared. Which was saying a lot, because Stede had already been so wonderfully weird since the moment they met.
At first, the endearing weirdness had thrown Ed off the other oddness of Stede. He had just assumed the feeling that something was off he got around the guy - completely overshadowed by that feeling that made his heart skip happily like a schoolgirl - was part of said former weirdness. Though that theory quickly went out the window when a soaked and tired looking Stede stumbled into the kitchen, took one glance at a bass, swallowed the whole thing raw in one gulp like some sort of ravenous boa, and returned to his room like nothing at all had happened, leaving Ed staring wide eyed after him with looping thoughts of what the fuck playing in his mind.
After that night, he had paid more attention. He began noticing little things - from the regularly spaced occurrences where all traces of Stede would disappear for the night, only to return exhausted and wet, to the way everyone seemed to gather around him every time he sang despite the fact that he had more of a dying witch’s voice than a siren’s. Ed usually prided himself on his intuition, but in this case, he felt like he was missing even the slightest hook for it to latch onto, anything at all to connect the dots.
Though Ed started out not much more than miffed about the whole ordeal, once he realised that the crew had cracked whatever oddness Stede had, the scrape of curious annoyance turned to a deep cut of infuriating obsession . As co-captain, he should be clued in on everything going on at the ship, especially if it concerned Stede. What was so awful that he, of all people, couldn’t be told? Though he didn’t quite know what the oddness was, he’d wager all the locks on his head that Stede’s secret was infinitely less awful than the exclusion and hurt from not being trusted with it.
He debated on dropping the matter. Whatever it was, Stede clearly didn’t want him to know, and he would never want to cross that boundary. On the other hand, however, there was this selfish, restless, insatiably curious part of him that needed to know. Ed had to know, had to know what made this beautifully unique man so odd, had to pursue the challenge and passion of uncovering all the little gems that made Stede Stede , had to know so he could reassure the blonde that it didn’t matter; that he thought no less of Stede because of it, kiss him gently and tell him that he had already managed to enrapture him so deeply in this love-stricken state that he would have to shatter Ed’s heart to an inoperative state to ever make him fall out of-
Okay, yeah. Maybe that was a little too far.
Eventually, this brew of determination boiled over into action. Ed had kept careful track of the days, and as the warm noon of a sunny day turned into a cool sunset dusted with clouds, Stede disappearing with the shift in temperature, he took initiative. Leaping back onto the wooden deck from where he had been peering on the ratlines, he quickly spotted Oluwande and Jim, and glided over innocently.
“Blackbeard, sir!” Oluwande called joyfully, Jim looking up beside him. Ed found himself rearing up to a captain's pose on instinct, though halted it halfway, transforming the movement into a smooth but odd full-body wave.
“Have either of you seen Stede?” he asked, looking around even though he knew perfectly well the man would be nowhere to be found. He had to sell the act, of course. Ed looked at Oluwande, who shook his head, and when he turned to Jim, they copied the action. Perfect, just what he wanted. “Weird,” Ed began, dramatically conveying his feigned ignorance through exaggerated gestures, “this is the fifth time he’s disappeared without any trace. Happened two weeks ago, and two weeks before that again. Where do you think he goes?”
Jim and Oluwande exchanged a quick, nervous glance that Ed was barely quick enough to catch. “Oh, you know Stede,” Jim said, dismissively, “he’s probably off organising his books, or making a scrapbook, or some other bullshit like that.”
“Shouldn’t somebody check on him, then? Make sure he’s alright, and check if he wants any company?”
That seemed to stump Jim, and their confidence dulled slightly. Another quick glance was exchanged between them and Oluwande, before both their eyes darted to something behind Ed. He turned to see Lucius standing behind him, his expression practically begging to not be included in the conversation, and growing aghast when he realised that was exactly what was happening.
“He- uh- Stede’s bathing,” Lucius stammered, quickly. “A special sort of sunset bathing. In the ocean. He claims it’s good for the skin and voice, and that he needs to do it every so often which is why he does it regularly, and he didn’t want anyone to know because it took him a very long time to learn the technique, and uh- it can be da- dang - yeah - dangerous to do sunset bathing without the proper-”
“Yeah!” Oluwande interrupted, Lucius immediately diving back into his notebook at the interruption, with such a relieved look on his face that one would think he had escaped a death sentence. “I’m pretty sure the captain prefers to do it alone, too. He’s perfectly safe - knows exactly what he’s doing.”
Ed couldn’t help but burst a goofy grin at the words. A special sort of sunset bathing in the roaring, wild ocean, of all places, alone , was such a wild, absurd, ridiculous idea that it was almost completely infeasible for anyone to ever do such a thing seriously.
Almost , being the key word of that sentence.
It would make sense. The exhaustion and the wetness would be obviously explained, the crew gathering around him when he sang or scrutinising him would simply be to see if the technique worked, and perhaps the raw fish he occasionally caught Stede guzzling down was simply part of his methods? Either way, there was something incredibly amusing about it all, and - Ed thought - even if it wasn't one hundred percent accurate, it was such a fun thing to picture, and so intrinsically Stede , that the truth couldn’t have been all too far off.
Satisfied, he departed, his step feeling lighter than it had earlier. Though he still wished to have heard it from Stede himself, he felt a certain satisfaction at knowing this near truth, this almost fact. A celebration was in order - a drink or five should be had.
With life and adoration breathed into him, he practically skipped off to get a couple of bottles and maybe even a barrel for him and the crew to share. Perhaps, he thought, as he walked, he would even sneak down to a quieter part of the ship before the light disappeared completely, and give Stede a little surprise. He was sure that his company would be appreciated - or, at least, he deeply hoped so.
Though there were easier ways to get to the alcohol, Ed took a little detour, just to shake things up and burn off a little extra energy. Besides, the planks on the most straightforward alcohol path were so commonly and enthusiastically walked he knew Stede feared that footprints would
become moulded in the wood. The ‘scenic’ route - as he had impromptuly decided to dub it - also provided a beautiful view into the orange-painted sky and the waves that glistened with a golden sparkle whenever the light caught on them.
It was one of these glances out to the infinite plane of the ocean that left his springing to stop so abruptly he almost fell mid-air. On the surface of the water, basking in one of the glistening streaks, Ed could make out a figure that should not have been there, let alone exist . He hurried over to the railing of the ship, lurching forward to lean over with such velocity he almost fell in. He found himself gaping like a trout, staring at disbelief at what he saw before him, and gently, as though it was sacred, he managed to whisper a single questioning word: “ Stede?”
Though it was quiet, the merman heard him anyway. Stede opened his eyes, the serene calm that had lain on his face before transformed into a confused glance upwards, until said confusion crashed into shock. His tail - mostly composed of beautiful shimmering sea green shades complemented with deep blue translucent fins and clusters of shining scales that hiked up to his navel - swiftly disappeared under the waves, the rest of his body sinking with it until the only visible tell of inhumanness was the blueish green tint of his skin and oddly adorable gills on his cheek.
“Ed!” Stede exclaimed, an octave too high, “You- I- I was just-”
“You’re a bloody mermaid,” Ed interrupted, still staring slack-jawed at him.
Though more of a statement than a question, Stede still clearly felt the need to respond with a nod. Shamefully, the merman cast his eyes to the waves, though they instantly returned to Ed’s face when he broke out in a laugh.
“A mermaid! A goddamn mermaid! Or well, merman , I suppose,” Ed rambled, mostly to himself. “That makes so much goddamn sense! It explains… well, everything!” He smiled manically, as though he had just downed two tons of cocaine, before remembering that said merman was still looking at him, with a borderline fearful expression. Ed couldn’t have that.
Without warning, he jumped off the ship, landing in the water with a loud splash. He spared only a quick glance at the unbelievably gorgeous - and oddly attractive , a part of his mind unhelpfully added - tail, before resurfacing and being face to face with Stede’s concerned face. “I don’t mind it,” Ed said, before he could spiral any further into worry. “Makes sense and all, just a bit of a surprise. Not every day you find out your mate is a merman.”
Stede looked hopeful at that. “We’re still friends?” he asked, a smile radiant as the sun on his face, both the words and expression melting Ed’s heart. He seemed to have a talent for doing that - and honestly, the fact that Stede could do it, hell, the fact that Stede considered them friends , was infinitely more unbelievable than any tails or scales.
“‘Course. It’s awesome that you have scales - suits you, by the way,” he added quickly, satisfied to see a warm smile and blush appear on his face. “Sea green is very much your colour.”
“It was my mother's too,” Stede said, almost wistfully, staring into the horizon before returning back to the moment. “I apologise for not telling you earlier - I wasn’t quite sure how you’d react. I should have figured you wouldn’t mind.”
Ed waved his hands dismissively. “Can’t go around telling everyone and anyone you're a merman.”
“Yes, but you’re neither an everyone nor anyone,” Stede said softly, smiling, and oh god, Ed was not prepared on any level to deal with this lovely bizarre little merman who he had somehow been lucky enough to catch in his life.
To stop his heart from turning into a puddle, Ed swapped the topic. “Well, now that my clothes are wet and I’m here anyway -” he said, as though he had simply stumbled into the water, “why don’t we swim around a little. Would love to see that tail of yours in action.”
And under the setting sun, through the twinkling newly unsheathed stars, and up until the moon had taken its rightful place high up on the dark blue canvas of the midnight sky, two co-captains swam, legs and tail brushing casually against one another, all sorrow, woes, and worries lost to the waves.