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Gillion slowly eased himself over the railing of the Albatross, his fingers curling around the splintered wood as he tried to find where the thin rope ladder was tied. His foot scraped against the side of their ship and he held on as tightly as he could, not too keen on falling off and into the water. He grumbled, looking down enough just to try and find the first bit of rope so that he wasn’t sitting there scraping his claws against the wood and leaving indents that Chip was sure to complain about later.
He managed to find it after a few seconds, gripping onto the wood and switching his hold so that he could grab onto the rope. His tail swished back and forth with an uneven rhythm, making it even harder for him to catch his balance with the wind blowing against him and tossing him around. Gillion let out a hesitant gurgle, breath spilling from his lips as he slowly began to descend the dirty ladder hanging from the side of their ship.
The rope dug into his hands, leaving small dark blue rashes where he dragged his palms over the rough surface. Occasionally, the wind would blow him and he would sway, making sure not to lose his grip and go tumbling to the lightly churning waves below.
Sure, Gillion had jumped off the side of the ship countless times before, enough times that he knew the distance wouldn’t hurt him. And normally, he would just use that way of descending to the water below. But that made too much noise, the splash would certainly alert the other members of their crew and it would cause a commotion. Even if they were used to Gillion going overboard for a few minutes at a time.
Gillion didn’t want them to know that he was going into the water in the first place, he didn’t care that he knew that they wouldn’t ask what he was doing or question him about it. He didn’t care that he knew that Chip and Jay wouldn’t even bat an eye at it, he was allowed to go off the ship when they were sailing. He could breathe water, after all, they didn’t care where he went as long as he either came back, or they had a way to contact him somehow.
Gillion didn’t care about those things, they did nothing to reassure him.
He didn’t want them to know that he was getting off the ship. Because if they knew, Gillion didn’t think that he would be able to stomach standing in front of them face to face when he got back up, because they always came to help him over the railing when they heard that he was climbing the ladder. (it was usually pretty easy to tell by the wet slapping against the side of the ship).
Gillion didn’t want to talk to the rest of the crew. Didn’t want to see them. Didn’t want to go near them. He wanted to be alone. He needed to be alone before he hurt someone.
If not, Gillion wasn’t sure what he would do if Chip or Jay came up to him to talk. Not with the way that his mind was buzzing and he couldn’t seem to think straight. No. Certainly not. Not with the thoughts that kept rearing their ugly heads in the back of his mind or the way that his hands shook with barely suppressed bouts of energy.
He needed to get his energy out. He needed something to do. Something that wasn’t training because training just seemed to make the feeling worse. It made his heart pound against his ribs and his breath to quicken, it made him even more restless. And the sensation of having his sword in his hands almost felt… off… different even… it wasn’t what he needed
He needed to dig his claws into something. Otherwise, his own thoughts were going to drive him insane.
A low growl spilled from Gillion’s lips, a sound unusual for the Triton, and was immediately followed by the overwhelming sense of shame that seemed to fill his entire being. His ears pinned back towards his head and he dug his claws into his palms from where they were wrapped around the rope ladder. Gillion sucked in a sharp but rattled breath, held it in his lungs for a few seconds until it hurt, and then let it woosh out of his mouth.
The shame of what he was doing almost caused him to climb back up the ladder and back onto the deck. It made his cheeks flush a dark shade of blue and he tucked his tail close to his body, knowing how awful he was being. He had the thought to go back up to the deck and try and hide himself in the storage closet to just sit out the feeling. He could just wait until it went away and go back out to talk to Chip and Jay (because he really couldn’t face them right now. Not when he felt like he was a few minutes away from snapping).
But Gillion was so full of energy, and he needed to get it out of him before he hurt someone he cared about. And it would be so easy to do so. His claws were sharp.
He figured he was stronger than both Chip and Jay. It would be easy.
Gillion stopped, chest heaving with shallow breaths as he shook his head forcefully, letting his bangs fall in front of his face. He shouldn’t be thinking things like that. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t.
It was wrong of him. And yet he couldn’t get it out of his head.
Chip and Jay were still below deck sleeping. It was early enough in the morning that the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, but not enough to slip through the porthole windows to wake Jay up from her slumber. Jay usually woke first (after Gillion), and then she would wake up Chip and they would start their day.
But Gillion had been up all night thinking.
Continuing to ease himself down the ladder, Gillion’s tail drooped into the foamy water splashing against the side of their ship. He could feel salt spraying against his skin, the familiar mist chilling his small form. A shiver ran down Gillion’s spine unrelated to the temperature as he scratched his claws against the side of the Albatross. A particularly large wave pushed against the side of the ship and Gillion lurched forward, a gasp spilling from his lips.
Figuring that he was close enough to the water, Gillion let go of the rope and allowed himself to drop into the waves. A small splash of foam curled around him and he prayed that the noise wouldn’t have been loud enough for any of the crew to notice. It couldn’t possibly be, he was on the complete other side from the sleeping quarters.
Gillion didn’t even wait to allow himself to adjust before he dove under the surface of the water, exhaling the air out of his lungs quickly and ignoring the sting of pain that radiated from his chest. His gills flexed instinctively and he choked for a second or two, the saltwater burning his throat before he could breathe normally. But Gillion ignored it, he pushed past the pain and the uncomfortableness of his own body and used his tail to propel himself forward in the water. He couldn’t take the luxury of time to adjust to the water, he had to keep moving.
He didn’t want to go far enough from the ship that he would get lost, so Gillion made sure to keep the large object in his peripheral vision as he swam, flicking the end of his tail to surge forward. The water tugged against the webbing between his fingers and he blinked against the aberrations of light that slid over his small body.
For the time being, the ocean was relatively calm, with no harsh waves that would throw off Gillion’s balance too badly. If he were on the ship, Gillion could probably enjoy himself with training without having to fear being knocked over every few minutes due to the rocking of the boat. It wouldn’t make him too dizzy or nauseous, so he realized that he should really be taking advantage of this opportunity while he could.
But Gillion continued in the water, curling his hands towards his chest and mainly using his tail to push forward. He would swim for a while and that should tire him out. That was it. That was all he needed.
He needed to dig his claws into something.
Gillion almost gagged, swallowing a mouthful of water as he struggled to maintain his composure. What was wrong with him today? He was a mess. A mess that was bordering on violence.
As far as Gillion was able to see, there wasn’t much that swam around the vicinity of their ship. Not many fish or other creatures. Nothing that Gillion could see. Nothing within distance that he could sneak up on and grab. (Nothing big enough that Gillion could get the satisfaction of digging his claws into its flesh or tasting the blood on his tongue).
Gillion dug his claws so deep into his palms he couldn’t even feel the sting anymore. He wrinkled his nose and bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, trying to get himself together.
He had never done this before when he was younger and if Gillion was being honest, he wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to do. Hunting wasn’t a big thing in his family, definitely not something that he would have been allowed to indulge in. The elders would have never taught him something like this. So Gillion was mostly going off of vague knowledge of things that he had overheard and the writhing feeling deep in his gut.
Gillion’s heart pounded wildly in his chest and his eyes darted around with an almost erratic rhythm, ears twitching and folding back and forth to try and hear something. Anything. He was getting desperate.
A sudden flicker of movement a bit off to his right made Gillion stop, he exhaled a mouthful of bubbles from his lips and turned his head in that direction. His fingers twitched and he frowned slightly, lips pulling back to expose sharp teeth. The shadow trailed for a few seconds, hesitated, and then darted back.
Gillion turned over his shoulder to see the large shadow of the Albatross looming behind him, he hadn’t gone far from their ship and he didn’t know how far he could safely travel before he lost sight of the boat. But there was something there, something large enough that might put up a fight.
Another rise of shame coiled around Gillion’s chest, freezing up his limbs and making it hard to move and think. Gods above, what was he doing? The elders didn’t train him for this, they didn’t train the champion of the undersea to be a desperate hunter, killing things just for the sake of it.
Uncooperative tears welled up in the corners of his eyes and Gillion squeezed his eyes shut, not even feeling the wetness against his skin as he tried to swallow down the sobs that threatened to bubble out of his throat.
He should just go back to the ship and find something else to do. Something that would hopefully be more productive than what he was doing at the moment.
But he was already here.
And there was a fish nearby.
Gillion could feel the stinging of pain in his hands as he slowly uncurled his fingers, claws bared and desperate for something to dig into. He flicked his tail subtly to propel himself forward in the direction of the creature, silently prowling through the water in the way that he had been taught when he was younger. Another low growl spilled from his lips, barely able to be heard from the muffle of the water.
He swam closer, slowing down some to make sure he wasn’t spotted. The fish became clearer as streams of light rippled down over the two of them, basking their form in barely filtered sunlight that caused Gillion to squint.
The fish was large, about the size of his torso (maybe bigger) with large fins that rippled just as gently as Gillion’s did. It was unfamiliar with a long face and a jaw that occasionally snapped shut as it idly swam. It had a long tail that swished back and forth casually, with no sign of panic or hesitation in the creature as it relaxed in the water.
Gillion swam closer.
He kicked his feet, mostly using his tail to move forward, trying to get as close as he possibly could before the fish realized that he was there. Its bulging eyes stared off at nothing, unblinking pupils hazy and dilated. Gillion swallowed thickly, baring his teeth and flexing his fingers.
Gillion must have done something wrong because as he continued to approach, the fish’s eye suddenly locked onto Gillion, a panicked expression causing it to flick its tail in an attempt to get away. Its mouth opened and closed with a gurgle and Gillion could see its gills (so familiar to his own) flexing against its skin.
What happened after the fish noticed him was a blur. Gillion must have chased after it, kicking his feet in the water and using his tail to propel forward with an uncharacteristic amount of speed. He didn’t know how long he chased it or how far he traveled. All he knew was that when he finally managed to catch up to it, the feeling of his claws digging into the taut, scaled flesh was almost euphoric.
The sudden rush of excitement that filled him completely outweighed the previous shame that had almost taken over. He dug his claws deeper into the skin, trying not to tear it too much (it would make it harder to travel with) but needing the immediate feeling of the flesh against his palms. Its gills continued to flex occasionally and it would twitch and wiggle, trying desperately to get out of Gillion’s just as desperate grasp.
Gillion’s chest heaved and his heart pounded so hard against his rib cage that he was sure that it was going to burst. He could smell the blood in the water and see the red liquid as it curled and flicked like gentle wisps of smoke in the ocean. The waves pushed him back and forth and he just barely remembered to keep flicking his tail back and forth to remain floating near the surface of the water.
The fish stilled. Gillion could practically taste the blood on his tongue, the feeling of scales against his teeth. The still slightly writhing organs or the way that its gills continued to flex for a while after it died.
He realized that he hadn’t eaten anything all day. His stomach growled.
Shakily, Gillion pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind as the euphoric rush began to die down some. His entire body was trembling and he felt out of sorts like something could knock him over and he didn’t think that he would have the strength to fight back. He felt vulnerable. Exposed. Like he had done something sinful and the urge to scrub himself clean was beginning to surface.
And he could smell the blood in the water. The scent almost made him sick.
Why had he done that?
But at least the previous thoughts were gone. The urges that he had felt in their shared sleeping quarters, staring at Chip and Jay’s sleeping form had finally vanished. The disgusting instincts that Gillion didn’t even know that he possessed were finally sated and he could breathe normally again.
And yet why did he still feel absolutely disgusting?
Slowly, Gillion swam to the surface, poking his head above the breach of waves to see how far he had swum from the Albatross. He still held the fish in his hands, digging his claws deep enough into the scales that he wasn’t worried about losing his grip on the dead creature.
The Albatross bobbed a good distance away in the water. Gillion didn’t even realize how far out he had traveled, he had gotten so desperate in his sinful actions.
Shamefully, Gillion started towards their ship, holding onto the tail of the fish that he had killed as he dragged it behind him. His hands were shaking so badly it was hard to keep a good grip as he flicked his tail and used it to swim forward. He sniffled and coughed, spitting water out of his mouth and only halfway keeping his gills underwater.
It hurt to breathe. His lungs ached and burned with the salt water that he was inhaling and it made him choke. It was the worst mix of breathing that Gillion had ever experienced, but he didn’t think to try and keep his gills underwater or completely dip beneath the surface. He wanted to make sure to keep the Albatross in his vision.
By the time he reached the rope ladder on the side of their ship, he was out of breath and shame filled him so deeply that he could barely pull himself up out of the water. His tail smacked against the wooden planks and he felt his stomach practically drop with the sudden jolt as he yanked himself up. The fish almost slipped out of his hand and Gillion briefly wondered how he was going to get all the way back up while hauling something that was about half the size of him.
Gillion didn’t even know why he had taken it back to the ship. He had already done enough damage, what was the point in displaying his shame to the rest of the crew.
Well, maybe they could have it as a meal later. It was big enough to feed them for a few nights, he assumed.
Gillion pulled himself up the rope ladder with a bit of struggle, his chest heaving with the weight of his effort and his lungs rattling. He figured that if he spoke, his voice would be hoarse from all the salt water that he had swallowed. The time in the oversea had made his throat sensitive to the change in salinity and he hated it, he hated that it was hard to comfortably exist anywhere on this god-forsaken planet.
The deck was still quiet when Gillion finally managed to haul himself over the side of the railing, his tail smacking against the wooden floorboards. He winced at a sharp pain in his hip and leaned his weight against the nearest sturdy object that he could find, just to get his balance and make sure that his legs weren’t going to give out on him.
Gillion wondered what time it was. How long had he been gone? The sun was beginning to cast brighter highlights against the surface of the ocean, making it harder for Gillion to see without squinting. He was sure that Chip and Jay would be waking up by now.
Continuing to drag the fish by the tail, Gillion shuffled towards the kitchen. He could maybe figure out a way to prepare the fish and cook it for the rest of the crew. Then maybe his disgusting acts wouldn’t be so much of a waste. He could say that he was just getting food. He could reason with himself that that was the reason behind why he did it.
Yes. That’s all. Just to get some food for the rest of the crew to eat, so they could enjoy a nice fresh meal. That was all.
Gillion placed the fish on the counter, digging his claws into the flesh and tearing into it, ignoring the sick sense of satisfaction that bubbled up in the pit of his chest.
It was for the crew. That’s why he did it.
That’s all. No other reason.
Gillion repeated that in his head like a mantra until the tense feeling in his stomach decided to go away. Even if it was soon replaced by the nausea of having his hands wrist deep into the guts of a dead fish that was slowly stinking up the kitchen.