Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The small currents of the ocean pull on Techno’s limbs and skin as he floats in it. Every once in a while he'll flap his tail very slowly, just to stop himself from drifting too far down in the water. There’s no point moving with much more effort right now, not when he’s trying his best to stay still and quiet, tucked beneath his rookery.

Even with trying to stay still and pinching his mouth closed tight, Techno finds his lungs burning for oxygen. A few minutes have passed since the adults urged them into the depths of the water, feelings of danger ringing through the colony at the sight of a boat bobbing on the waves nearby. The anxiety only seems to tighten Techno’s chest tighten, making him want to release a nervous coo.

But Techno remains quiet as he rubs against one of the cows' sides. Trepidation is thick in the water, shown in how none of the pups flit around as they move slowly. It’s like a heaviness is filling them all, unsure of how this will go.

Another minute passes, Techno feels his nostrils twitch as his lungs seem to shake with the urge to inhale. Desperately, he looks around at the other seals, trying to find someone to help him. Some of the other pups look uncomfortable, but the adults just shift towards him slightly at his rising panic.

Unable to hold back a small whine, air blows out of Techno’s lungs violently, sending him thrashing in the water. The seals closest to him turn, but his body is moving purely on adrenaline, sending him up towards the top of the water.

Cold air hits his face like a bodily slap. It’s painful and for a few seconds, all Techno can do is breathe heavily and blink his wet eyes.

But then the second passes and trembling dread falls over Techno. The dark imposing figure of a boat towers over him, far closer than he’s ever even imagined seeing. It almost blocks out the sky completely, darker than even the deepest night without a single star to be seen.

After floundering for a second, Techno dips back below the waves, trying to swim quickly. His rookery seems to swell with a similar sort of panic, a few cows rising towards him a bit, but no one moving significantly towards the edge of the water.

In the end, it doesn’t matter that the colony stays well below the surface of the ocean, since something splits the water right beside Techno, making him flinch sideways. The fast moving projectile pierces deeply into the ocean, almost out of sight of Techno before a warbly groan rings out alongside a thunk.

Techno finds himself falling still even as the seals around him panic. Some swim deeper and others up, thrashing in the middle. Techno’s eyes are drawn to the rising projectile, a large bull being pulled along with it.

Wisps of darkness, almost purple with how their blood mixes with the blue of the ocean, trail behind the bull as they slowly fall limp.

Techno is only urged back into motion by the sounds of more projectiles hitting the water. With his alertness comes the recognition of the churning waves of emotion around him, every member of his rookery in sync with their fear and pain and panic. All Techno can do is try to swim back down, away from the boat and towards the familiar bodies.

A cow a few feet below him turns her head and slows slightly, body tense and wanting to keep thrashing deeper, but she pauses for just a second for him. And Techno almost makes it, he’s so close. If he was a smidge bigger, he would have made it with a few flips of his tail.

But something falls into the water around him and seems to grab onto his every limb: tail, flippers, and head, tangled up tightly.

If Techno thought he was panicking before, he is wrong. With the touch of something on his body, every inch of his skin gives a blood curdling scream. Yelps must be escaping him, mixed up and muted by the water and his flailing. No matter how much Techno turns or twists, the restraints around him only grow tighter, almost strangling.

The transition from in to out of the water is even more jarring the second time, his whole body rebelling at the air stabbing into him. His mewling noises grow louder in the wind whipped air, though they’re drowned out by the comparatively loud honks and grunts of the adults that have breached the surface.

The air is knocked from Techno as his body hits the hard side of the boat, stunning him still for a second. As he lies limp, his eyes flicker around and try to take in what is going on. Below him, the ocean looks angry with how his colony is hopping in and out, making angry and panicked noises. It’s darker than it should be, and Techno can’t help noticing how some of the seals are also lying still in the water, shiny projectiles piercing them as easily as the water.

The sight is cut off as Techno’s hoisted over the edge of the boat. The floor hits him hard, and even as he struggles to get his flippers under himself, he feels clumsy and useless. Any squirming makes the thick strings wrapped around him pinch into his skin painfully and just restrict his movement more.

The air on the ship smells like blood and death, salt unable to crowd it out this far above the waves.

There’s a few other seals wrapped up in the nets around him, humans standing over them. They are not unfamiliar forms to Techno, but they fill him with fear now. They seem so wrong compared to the fat and grey of his rookery.

The humans hold long shining tools. When they shove them into some of the seals, they let out such awful noises that all Techno can do is shake. It’s all the movement he can offer up, even as some humans turn towards him.

Sharp and choppy words fill the air, too quick for Techno to pick up. They must not say anything good, since a tall towering human steps towards him and brings down the point of the staff onto him.

A burst of pain rings through Techno, shocking him frozen as cries leave his mouth. He can’t tell if any of the calls are responding to him, since the sharp edge pulls back out of him with an agonizing squelch and renders his ears useless.

The net is pulled upwards around him, pain ripping through him with the motions. Techno finds himself squirming through the pain, trying in vain to escape and get away. He just wants to get away!

An almost tearing pain runs through Techno’s whole body, worse than the wound on his side. It’s burning and freezing and sharp and dull. Techno just finds himself writhing more violently throughout the cresting torture.

With a rough rip, Techno finds himself falling. Disorientation paints his mind white and empty. The ground presses up on his whole body, unimpeded by ropes. But it feels too… too much. His skin stings and almost itches, as if raw nerves are wrapped around him and firing off with every blow of the wind and touch of the floor and chill of the air.

Techno’s eyes flutter wildly, trying to take in anything around him. His chest heaves and his vision is light smeared and sparkling, but also so crisp that it feels razor-edged. With a jerk, Techno flops onto his side, mind reeling even further when a small hand curls before his face.

A human hand. It trembles in time with his body and he can feel every small movement. H—his hand.

What?

Before Techno can wrap his mind around the new form around him, large hands grasp his upper arms tightly. It pulls a squeak from his throat, skin burning and pounding beneath the touch. Even when Techno wants to flinch away, his body seems to not want to follow his commands.

Eyes flashing around, Techno catches sight of another human holding a net in front of him. Something is still in the net. A seal! Was there another pup that was caught?

But when the humans toss the net around easily, Techno realizes that it’s not another seal. It’s. It’s Techno.

Techno’s skin.

—

Techno’s body seems to shake uncontrollably, as if if he keeps moving and squirming he’ll escape his human skin too. 

But the ropes stay wrapped tightly around him, the shaking only tearing his fragile new skin. Techno imagines his wrists must be bleeding by this point, but the small space he was shoved into is too dark to see, and the smell of seal blood cloaks the air thickly already. That… that might have something to do with the shaking too.

His body is already sticky from the weeping wound on his side. It pounds in time with his heart, but has shriveled into something mostly ignorable unless he moves. Even though Techno wants to move and try to escape, the painful injury is a good motivation to stay curled up and still as well.

The waves leave Techno feeling sick instead of soothed. His mouth stays open wide as he pants quickly, lungs feeling as empty as when he broke the surface just a few hours ago. The thought makes Techno flinch, lips pinching together alongside his eyes, a whine making his throat vibrate.

The sounds keep escaping him, as if searching for some kind of response. But the only seals near him are still and quickly cooling. Every unanswered cry leaves his chest hurting more and more. Pulling against the restraints, Techno curls up as tightly as he can.

Somehow, Techno can’t force himself to shrug away from the seal bodies. The feeling of their sides is at least still a bit familiar, even with his new aching skin.

They might be the only seals Techno sees… for a while. 

His rookery can’t come for him, no matter how much he cries for them. Who knows where he is at this point. Even though the adults can swim quickly, they’re not as fast as a boat. And what would they do if they caught up?

It’d be too risky to go after him, if they even know that he’s captured at all. If the selkies in the rookery transformed to try to fight, they might just get kidnapped too. That’s too much to risk, especially when so many of their members have been killed.

Especially when it’s all Techno’s fault.

Finally, the trembling in Techno’s face and lips grows too spastic to control and a wet cry escapes him. Moisture collects on his face, dripping from his eyes. It leaves him confused, even through the aching in his core. When the liquid drips past his lips, it tastes salty like the ocean, which only makes the drops come faster.

Techno curls into the stiff side of the seal corpse next to him and desperately tries to imagine it breathing and warm. They would nudge him and let out a returning call to his mewls. Perhaps, when the season is right, the other selkies would take off their skin and coax him out of his, teach him to stand and walk and swim. Teach him why salty water pours from his eyes.

But even in his eventual dreams, Techno is alone.

—

Techno is submerged in the utter darkness for so long that his eyes seem to give up on trying to see anymore. 

The smell in the small rocking room grows murky and dank, forcing him to take small breaths. He hasn’t moved in so long that he’s not sure he could even if he wanted to, stiffness only layering an ache over his too new body. He even ran out of salty tears at some point, lips cracking and dry away from the ocean.

The worst part might be the cold though.

The humans had yanked Techno into some sort of clothing, rough and scratchy on his skin, after wrapping something around his weeping middle. It seems to do nothing to keep any warmth tucked into him though, incomparable to the coziness of his short but thick fur. The long flowing hair on the top of his head seems pitiful in comparison, barely keeping his scalp warm.

But even then, the chill seems to run deeper than just the drafty room of the boat he’s been shoved into. It seems like all the way to the very center of his bones, he is freezing. It’s like Techno was dropped into the middle of an ice shelf, surrounded on all sides by a leeching violence.

At least then he’d still be in the ocean.

Well, Techno must still be on the ocean since he’s in the boat. But even the large rhythmic waves that rocked noticeably have grown smaller, to the point that he’s almost still. The tiny unstable movements almost make his head and stomach swirl and churn more wetly.

The sound of overlapping voices becomes too intrusive for Techno to ignore as they grow louder. Or more accurately, closer. Tensing up till his joints creak, he curls into a small form around his core.

Techno’s mind seems to pick out the voices, trying to understand what is being said, until the doorway is suddenly pushed open. The unpleasant squealing noise is overcast by the beaming light shining in, making his eyes burn even when his lids slide shut.

Flinched into himself, Techno suddenly notices a sudden silence, feeling wrong when there must be multiple humans in the room. Techno tries to open his eyes to look, totally blind to the world around him despite the pulse pounding danger present. Even just peeking through his eyelashes, his eyes fight to close and block out some of the stabbing pain and light.

Just as quickly as the onslaught of light started, it dampened immensely. Automatically, Techno feels himself relax. He doesn’t really mean to, but the diminished attack is very relieving to his body.

Unfortunately for Techno, the only reason the light stopped glaring onto him was because one of the humans stepped towards him and blocked the light with their body. Techno’s eyes fly open as the person steps closer audibly, their already large body looming over him. Techno’s body does manage to unstick and let him wiggle away, but very uncoordinated and clumsily.

The human says something before crouching right into Techno’s space. It’s enough to make him freeze momentarily in fright, his insides screaming and fizzing in panic, but his body is not getting the memo. Then the human reaches their hand out, right towards Techno’s face and a big floppy convulsion goes through him as every muscle in his body struggles to move at once.

Right as the human’s (warm) skin graces his jaw, Techno jerks forward and sinks his teeth into the appendage. They yank backwards quickly enough that Techno’s mouth gets tugged along for a couple seconds till he lets go and tries to retreat away, mouth wet and acrid with fresh blood. It seems to sear everywhere that it touches, as if hot enough to burn.

There’s nowhere to go in the little cabin though, and Techno’s back hits a wall quickly. And then there’s no amount of biting or flailing he can do to fend off the swift slap to the face from the man’s palm.

It rings out loudly, seemingly felt in both Techno’s skin and ears. The impact is all shock and frozen terror, but then a stinging burns in and he can’t keep himself from cowering behind his knees. It’s like a thousand tiny needles are being driven into his skin, chewing their way in and letting blood burst through. His own shaky hand cups the area and finds it warm, but even the touch of his own hand feels too much for his throbbing nerves.

The man before Techno is speaking, pointed and directed at him. Techno doesn’t know what the person is saying, not really. He’s heard people talk before, but not enough to learn the differences in the folds and bends of the finicky mouth noises. Posture and body language and grunts work well enough for his rookery to communicate, alongside the snippets of emotion that flow between them like water.

But even if the words fall on deaf ears, the sounds don’t. They seem to hold a physical presence, loud and imposing. Barking, almost, like a bull about to charge a seal that started to get too close. It makes Techno recoil into himself instinctively.

Even so, he can’t quite hold still when the hands return. They grab at his face and limbs, force him to stand on his sloppy feet even though he ends up in a heap on the ground in a second. And they grab at his hair with their ragged fingers.

It makes Techno shake and shudder and shy away. The humans don’t seem to care much, aside from grabbing and yanking on him occasionally. Half of him seems to rally to fight back and bite and hit anything that comes near, but the other half is just so overwhelmed and shouting danger that he just. Can’t.

After a bit, the humans retreat some and talk to each other. They stay in the doorway while Techno pulls his legs to his chest and tries to force the shakes away. He wants them to leave him alone again, even if he has to be with the seal bodies and cold.

And to Techno’s surprise, the people do turn to leave. All of them except one, who heads right over to Techno. Shying away does nothing, and his wrist is quickly grabbed and pulled on till he’s forced to try and stand and stumble after.

Even as Techno tries to copy the human before him, putting one foot in front of the other and staying upright, the ground just keeps yanking him back down. Or maybe it’s his legs doing the dropping, with how his knees fall away without ever fully extending. 

In the end, Techno ends up being practically dragged, skin caught and torn on the wooden floors wherever it can. It makes little whines come from his chest, but even they don’t grow loud enough to reach any seals even if they were close enough to hear. The man only pulls him harder, making his limbs hit the floor painfully.

When they break out of the belly of the ship, the moon blinds Techno like it never has before. Usually, the pale light soothes him through the night. Now it feels invasive and cloying and dull. 

There’s a pause, long enough for Techno to blink thickly into focus. The humans seem to draw together, talking and talking till Techno wants to plug his ears.

Looking to the side, he finds his face widening in surprise. There’s swaths of dark land spread out close by, filled with structures and buildings. People. Humans.

Techno can’t see any humans aside from the ones on the boat, but he knows they’re there. The faint flickers of warnings from the other selkies seems to creep in, making Techno want to plunge into the sea and swim far far away.

Instead, a pale pink-gray, almost the same color as the moon, catches the corner of his eyes. The clarity makes his brain feel off balance, but he’s too busy staring. 

Because… It's Techno’s coat.

The men from the boat hand it over to the other humans. The men who are with the one dragging him around. 

Techno realizes that he didn’t think to try and run. He doesn’t think he could have, with his legs weak and dumb. But he didn’t even try. And staring at his own skin in the hands of strangers, he realizes that he can’t try now. Because if he does, he’ll lose sight of a part of himself.

Soon, one of the men picks him up in a way that makes his stomach turn and mind scream, but he holds still. They leave the boat and the docks and the surrounding streets. Techno wants to flail and cry and bite, because he can’t see or smell or hear the ocean anymore.

But he just stays quiet as he and his skin are carried away.

Chapter Text

Techno dips his nose and chin into the neck of fur around him, eyes unobscured so he can scan the area. The street moves constantly with people and objects and stands, too many things in his eyes that can take too much of it in, but he doesn’t let them close or still.

Not yet, not until he finishes his job.

Job is a bit of a misleading word, but that’s what the people in the crew call them. Probably because going around talking about how they have a robbery or heist or whatever planned isn’t exactly inconspicuous. The intricacies of human languages aren’t something Techno has any mind to ponder anyway.

Instead he forces his mind to focus on the here and now. Ignore how being surrounded by so many people makes him a bit dizzy and jittery. Ignore how even through the layers of his thick furred coat the cold air and rough eyes of passersbys seem to sear his skin. And ignore the aching in his chest that reminds him of how far he is straying from his skin. Because if Techno doesn’t focus on his job and manages to screw it up, he’ll be in big trouble.

Bring back something useful or else .

As if Techno could disobey even if he wanted to. All Techno needs is for one of the men in the crew to touch his skin and command him for his hands to be tied. Figuratively. Or literally, depending on what exactly the command is, but still.

Stealing is on the agenda today, so Techno walks on among the little booths set up. He’s learned over the months that people don’t stare at him quite so much if he walks straight and even and quickly—but not too quick. It was hard, when his legs and feet were still new and weak like noodles, but he had good motivation to learn. So, he did. And now he can keep his spine straight and legs moving, even through the shoots of pain that sometimes go up them for some reason.

Techno is doing his best to keep his face flat and blank as his eyes catch onto something fuzzy. There’s a little table filled to the brim with coats and hats and gloves and socks, all covered in different patterned furs. None of them are the same color or tone as a seal’s fur, all closer to the rough hair covering the coat he wears now, but they still look warm. 

Without his permission, Techno’s feet seem to have stilled themselves and drifted closer.

“See something you like?” A creaky voice asks.

Techno jolts as he looks up with wide eyes, meeting the face of an older looking woman. Her face is wrinkled and tanned, like leather. It takes Techno a few seconds too long to realize that he’s acting like he got caught doing something and hasn’t responded to her question.

Quickly, Techno shakes his head no. This is definitely not the sort of thing he’s supposed to come back with. Not unless he found the skin of another selkie, or something equally rare, but Techno probably wouldn’t steal that anyway. It would feel… wrong. 

For some reason, his response makes the woman raise an eyebrow at him. Techno shifts on his feet.

“What’s the fur on your coat there? It looks real.”

Techno looks down at the grey brown jacket around him before shrugging. Both because he doesn’t know and also because, well, he couldn’t respond even if he wanted to. Techno might have heard people speak and knew a few words before he was thrown into human society, but he never learned how to make his mouth and tongue move in the finicky way humans have to to talk. They always feel clumsy and dumb when he’s tried.

“Looks like wolf’s fur to me. Though a bit dirty and matted. Cheap stores never store the things properly”

Techno can only blink at the woman blankly. He has no idea what a wolf is. And he’s also pretty sure that someone in the crew found the coat in the literal trash. Or stole it from someone. Techno doesn’t really care, at least it’s kind of warm.

Shifting his hands alongside his feet, Techno dips his head down in some sort of acknowledgement before stepping away from the stall, trying to not look like he’s sweating nervously. Jeez, Techno needs to get it together.

The small street seems to have filled to the brim in the small time Techno spent paused. It grows active as the sun sets, which isn’t all that surprising. It’s the sort of place where the crew would do business, which means nothing good. Still, hopefully the busyness will make it easier for Techno to snatch something.

He squints his eyes and furrows his brows, trying to find anything that looks shiny and isn’t hidden behind a case. Or maybe something that has a sign with a long number on it, but that might be a bit more risky than snagging something that shines. Jewelry tends to be expensive, but Techno has only a rudimentary idea of how to read price tags.

Regardless, it’s shaping up a bit harder than he expected. Criminals likely know the flaws that could lead to them being stolen from, so they don’t seem to be taking many chances. That is very not good for Techno. He has to come back with something good.

The swell of the bodies around him makes it hard to concentrate. People seem to bump into him and press against his sides with every step. Techno’s already grown a bit taller since he first shifted into this form, and he finds himself walking on the tips of his toes naturally, so he nearly comes up to most people’s shoulders. But still, the humans seem to loom over him.

Blusters of cold air blow between the bodies. It seems to stick to the small pricks of sweat on his hairline, almost burning with the chill. His body shakes in the wind and he can’t help curling into his coat even more. It barely seems to help.

A large man suddenly bowls past Techno, knocking him to the side with one elbow. Techno’s body seems to fold over with the force, flying a few feet till he knocks into a stall with a loud clatter. A few people turn to look, but another person seems to follow after Techno quickly, also hitting the ground and with a loud yell too.

As the man that knocked into Techno continues on, most people turn towards him and shout annoyed, backs turned on Techno. Pulling himself up on his hands and knees, Techno catches sight of a yellow glow a few inches away from him. Blinking quickly, he can’t help raising his eyebrows at the sight of the large golden chunk of jewelry sitting right on the ground.

Not even bothering to try and figure out what the thing is, Techno snatches the jewelry off the ground and shoves it into his pocket. With that done, he stands shakily and tries to stick to the wall to slip past all the people, eager to return to the little hideout where the crew is staying.

Techno is almost out of sight of the stall and commotion before a hand lands on his shoulder, making him jump a few inches off the ground. Automatically, Techno tries to shy away and find a way to flee, but the hand holds so tight that he can feel the finger bones through his coat. With wild eyes, Techno looks up to the person accosting him.

“I saw you steal from that man, you little thief! I bet you’re trying to run some scam!” 

The last words confuse Techno a bit, but that’s quickly thrown away when the man begins pulling him back towards the stall.

Techno’s mind thrums as his heart picks up painfully. Blood rushes in his ears and makes everything muffled, as if he’s hearing from underwater again, but not quite. The thought distracts him as he trips over his feet, unable to squirm out of the grasp.

The gold in his pocket seems to weigh him down heavily. It crosses Techno’s mind that he should toss it before he’s caught. Maybe he can play dumb and slip away with no proof that he actually stole something.

But even as his fingers slide against the metal in his pocket, Techno can’t force himself to wrap his fingers around it and throw it away. The words seem to pound in his mind: bring back something useful . This is the only useful thing Techno has, he has to bring it back. He has to!

Nearly hyperventilating, Techno fully trips over his feet as the man tugging him throws him to the ground. The hard fall stuns him for a second as yells surround him, apparently his accoster telling on him to the stall owner. An almost unfairness drops over Techno’s head. He wasn’t even caught by the person he stole from. He was so close!

The moment of pouting does nothing but use up the few seconds he might have had to try and squirm away, since the owner of the stall storms over and yanks Techno up by his arm. For a second, Techno finds himself just hanging limply, used to this sort of treatment. He just tenses his muscles and waits.

But then the owner’s hand dips into his coat pocket towards the jewelry and Techno remembers to fight. Thrashing wildly, Techno claws and kicks at the man holding him. It makes the man let go of him, all the air whooshing out of Techno's lungs when he hits the ground. But when he looks up, brilliant gold hangs from the man's hand.

Then the few people standing around are glaring down at Techno with mouths twisted in disgust.

“You dirty thief!”

“How dare you steal from me?!”

The tip of a boot lands hard in Techno’s stomach, forcing out a wheeze and as he wraps his arms around himself. He tries to retreat by pushing his feet on the ground, but he just gets another kick to his back. It makes pain shoot up and down his spine.

“Speak up, you pickpocket!” The stall owner leans down and grabs a chunk of Techno’s hair before standing and yanking his head with him.

A hiss escapes Techno as his scalp stings, neck being bent awkwardly by the harsh grip. The man shakes him some more and yells, more questions probably, but Techno just closes them out. He couldn’t answer if he wanted, and he most definitely does not. If there’s one thing Techno knows, it’s not to get caught. And if he does, snitching on anyone is strictly forbidden.

Eventually, Techno just growls lowly, trying to kick the man still holding him.

That seems to be the last straw from the men around him, since they throw him to the ground and start stomping on him. The blows are painful and unceasing, even as he tries to crawl away. They just attack him harder, forcing him to the ground so he has to wrap his arms around his head and tuck his legs to his chest. It does little to discourage the men.

It must not last more than a couple minutes, but the pain seems to stretch out endlessly. With his features all pinched up, an almost foggy pressure pushes on his skull. 

But throughout it all, Techno finds his mind looping over the loss of the stupid piece of jewelry from his pocket. It’s like he’s searching in vain for some way to get it back, instead of looking for a way to get out of this situation without any broken bones. When he peeks his eyes open, Techno finds his eyes flickering about, trying to find the shine of gold. Laying there useless and frozen, his brain seems to shiver.

While bracing for another blow, Techno breathes heavily until he realizes that they have ended. Or at least paused. Looking around, Techno finds the men talking to each other, sneering at him through the corner of their eyes. Rolling onto his back, Techno starts to push himself up into a sit until a wave of pain falls over him and makes him fall back onto the ground.

Through the heady fear, Techno slowly realizes that the police or guards aren’t going to be called on him. Obviously, since the stall owner himself probably stole the jewelry first. So, it’s kind of up to them what happens to Techno.

As much as Techno would love to see what these kind gentlemen would do to him, the whole first part of his job is returning to the crew. Sure, his mind is screaming pretty dang loudly about how he doesn’t have anything to give them anymore, but logically he knows that he’d get in way more trouble for ‘running off.’ 

So, pushing the pain into the back of his head, Techno slowly pulls his feet under himself before jumping up and taking off into the crowd as quickly as he can. It’s probably not that fast, considering his legs feel wobbly and pounding, but he weaves between the people while just barely not crashing back into the ground. By the time that the blood quiets in his ears enough to hear anything, there aren't any footsteps chasing him, whether they were there to start with or not.

Techno doesn’t let himself slow though, unwilling to be grabbed by any more men tonight (who don’t have a piece of his skin to laude over him). Or, that’s what he would be doing if his hindbrain and feet were listening to him.

Instead, Techno finds himself slowly stopping, every step forwards being a battle with his own will. It seems to make every sore spot on his body ache harder, the pressure in his brain returning with a vengeance. By the time Techno finds himself at the lip of the street, he’s physically tripping with every step, mind trying to pull him backwards.

Squishing his eyes shut, Techno forces himself to repeat the command to himself over and over. Not all of the command, just the second half. Or else.

Techno has a pretty good idea of what the 'else' could be. It’s nothing good obviously, and he wants to scream and cry in frustration with how much he already hurts tonight. But it’s also technically an out. He can return empty-handed, just as long as he’s prepared to be punished. That’s… fine. It’s fine.

With that thought in mind, Techno starts towards where the crew is holed up. It still leaves him feeling a bit off balance to not have anything to give them, but he manages it decently. He’s not even sure how much of the feelings are magic or emotion. Same, for the drawing in his chest the closer he grows to his skin. 

By the time Techno knocks on the rickety door, his head is pounding and he’s exhausted.

Too bad for Techno, the door opens and he comes face to face with the leader himself: Dave. Oh joy.

“Finally, took you long enough,” Dave says, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him in. His hand lands right on a deep bruise on Techno’s skin, and he can’t quite hold back a hiss. “What? Why are you bleeding?”

It seems the man looks him over properly for the first time and notes his disheveled state. If anything, the sight only seems to make Dave more angry. Techno finds himself shrinking into his shoulders.

“Did you get caught? What the hell? You had one job! Did you even bring anything back?” Dave rattles off, hands whipping around in a way that is very distracting.

Still, Techno forces himself to shake his head no. His silence angers the crew enough without him ‘ignoring’ their questions. But this answer brings the man no calmness obviously. His face grows very pink and then red, darker even than Techno’s hair. The sight might be funny if Techno didn’t know what it meant.

“Are you serious?! I swear to god, did you tell someone about us?” Dave asks, grabbing Techno’s wrist again till it creaks.

Quickly, Techno shakes his head no, trying to get across that he didn’t disobey. Or at least, not all of his commands. He didn’t tell anyone!

It’s not like he could. Not with his empty mouth or chained mind and body.

“Gods!”

Techno’s arm is tossed again, but this time it sends him falling to the floor like a pair of dice. They must land as two big fat snake eyes, since a foot lands solidly onto his stomach. It forces a strangled noise from his mouth, but the pain is wiped from his brain when hands sink into the fur collar of his coat and start pulling.

Loud squeaking whines leave Techno as he thrashes, desperately trying to hold onto the coat around him. It’s too cold and exposed and empty without the coat, he can’t lose it! A harsher kick knocks into his breast bone, cutting off the noises with a wet knocking noise.

“You can’t do any shit right! If you don’t listen to us, then you deserve to be punished!”

The bellowing voice makes Techno freeze up. Or more accurately, what he says. Because… the words echo in his head.

Or else .

“Stay still,” Dave demands, but it’s pointless now. 

The fight’s been torn away from Techno and he’s left limp and pliant as the hands return and manhandle him out of the fur cloak. Cold air folds around him, raising the hair on his arms and making his muscles tense uncomfortably. Moisture presses at his eyes while he keeps them open wide, even as they burn and wobble.

The fingers dig hard into his skin as he’s pulled across the floor. It makes the bruises on his body smart, but that’s nothing when he’s tossed back against a wall. The air in his lungs gets knocked out, leaving him reeling and blinking hard. He doesn’t even realize that he’s inside a closet until the door slams shut behind him.

The darkness picks at his brain alongside the chill. Techno can’t even get himself to move and curl into himself, not when the command is still so fresh on his ears. With his head tipped back at an awkward angle and hair tickling his face, Techno breathes shakily and finally blinks, freeing two lines of moisture down his face.

Techno’s chest feels as empty and open as a salt corroded cave, left stinging and raw after years of waves eating away at it. Every part of him craves to be free from the feeling, to be wrapped in his skin and pressed between his rookery. To be safe. 

But not even a whine can leave his lips.

Chapter Text

The sky tastes like tears.

Techno lick his lips compulsively, tongue catching on the ragged skin and leaving behind a salty taste. It’s a bit like blood, but not as warm or thick. 

Still, it’s quite bizarre that he can practically taste it as much as he can smell it. Human settlements are quite disgusting with the way that smells accumulate in them, stacked on top of each other until Techno feels himself going cross eyed underneath it all. Even though Techno’s sense of smell is much worse in the human body, it’s all far more overwhelming. The ocean isn’t like that. In fact—

Techno trips over his feet suddenly, eyes widening in shock. The crew members near him glance over, faces starting to turn with annoyance as Techno rights himself and hurries to catch up. The breath in his lungs still feels knocked loose though.

Because, of course it's salty. Of course the smell is so strong he can taste it. It’s. It’s the ocean.

Techno finds himself frowning at the thought, even though his heart is nearly beating out of his chest. How didn’t he recognize the smell of the ocean, something he mourned the loss of for so long? It’s only been a few years, right? That’s not long enough to forget. Is it?

Except he nearly had. Techno tries to force himself to dip back into his memories, the ones lined with ice and blurred behind eyes made for swimming. Usually he tries to avoid them, because even just thinking about before is so painful, sometimes it makes him feel like he’s going to die.

Casting his mind backwards, Techno scrambles for any memories. The first swim with his rookery or a kind cow that cuddled him or even the other selkies, watching over them with long gangly limbs. Techno knows these things happened, because they must have. And yet, the only images that come to mind are blurry and short, barely even thoughts, let alone proper memories.

Techno breathes deeply as his insides shiver. The feeling tries to reach out of him and his lips, so he forces them into a straight line. He clenches his hands into fists and keeps walking, trying to act normal and unassuming. Attracting attention will just make things worse.

Still, Techno can’t quite fight back against the churning swell that seems to be building up inside him. It’s like being so close to the ocean again has broken loose the salty brine that lines his insides. It makes it hard for him to not go off running or scratch his skin off. But that wouldn’t exactly be inconspicuous, would it?

Eventually the crew splits off into a small side street, lined with tightly packed and tall buildings that seem to cut some of the ocean smell from the air. Techno silently mourns the loss as they approach one of the buildings.

Techno pinches his fingers together as Dave bangs on the door. He hopes this isn’t some sort of a robbery. No one has told Techno what to do, not even bothering to order him to follow them. There’s no point in Techno running away when a single word would have him turning back, and then he would be punished on top of that. 

As a stranger opens the door, Techno almost wishes he had an order guiding his actions, if only so he wouldn’t feel so exposed and out of place with no clue what’s happening.

Though, it becomes clear quickly enough that whoever owns the building is not a foe of the crew. They’re greeted, not quite warmly, but ushered inside all the same.

Techno mostly just tunes out what is being said as he sticks close to the crew while weaving through the tight house. There are many things inside, all bunched together and towering. Absently, Techno finds himself scanning the piles as he walks, if only to find something to occupy his mind.

“Who’s the kid?” A voice cuts in as Techno’s elbow is grabbed.

It makes Techno flinch and try to squirm away immediately. It’s not someone in the crew grabbing him, so he doesn’t have to stay still, but he also knows he’ll get in trouble if he hurts anyone.

“Not a kid. I’ll tell you about it later, is there anywhere I can put it?” Dave answers breezily.

The words make Techno feel a bit hot, even if he’s used to the sort of degradation. The man holding onto him looks a bit confused at the words, looking down at Techno imploringly, before dropping his arm and shrugging. Techno’s just glad the touch is over, rubbing at his skin while shying away.

“They can stay upstairs in one of the rooms. They won’t mess with anything, will they?”

The words are said like a joke as the man directs them towards the stairs. Techno waits till Dave starts in the direction before following as well, biting on the tip of his tongue.

“Nah, it’s well behaved,” Dave says, something like laughter in his voice.

Sure, well behaved. That’s one way to put it. At least it seems like Dave isn’t spilling about Techno’s source of good behavior. That’s one less person to worry about, for now at least. 

The wooden stairs are steep and tiny, as if shoved into the house as an afterthought. Techno sets both of his hands on either wall as he climbs them, feeling off balance on his toes. His stomach turns over at being so high up on something unstable and he almost worries he’ll fall, even with his tight grasp on the walls. It takes him a bit longer than either of the men to climb, and Dave looks peeved about it. Well, Techno can’t help that human legs are wobbly and stupid.

The little room that Techno is taken to looks more like a closet than an actual room. Though, it’s bigger than most closets that Techno’s been shoved into, and there’s even a window. So all in all, not bad accommodations.

With a slightly too hard push to the back, Techno stumbles in. 

“Wait here till I’m back.”

The command is given with an extra amount of force, like Dave always does. Not that it matters. He could whisper it for all he wanted, as long as Techno heard and understood, he’s bound to follow.

There’s relief when the door shuts behind Techno and he’s left alone. Even if it means he’s essentially trapped in this room till Dave comes and collects him, at least he gets a moment of peace. With a sigh, Techno looks over to the window.

It’s pointed in the direction where Techno thinks the ocean is. Though, from where he’s standing, he can’t see. As he tries to walk over and hopefully catch a glimpse, he frowns as his feet refuse to move.

Ah. Wait here.

Very slowly, Techno lowers himself to the floor and pinches his eyes shut. The people in the crew tend to use vaguely worded commands like this often, so it’s not the first time he’s found himself stuck in place for hours at a time. Even if he knows that that’s not what was meant by the command. Hell, half the time they get pissed when he takes it too literally, like it’s not their fault they suck at giving directions.

A bit painstakingly, Techno reaches his hand out and sets it on the floor as far ahead of him as he can. The command is meant to keep him in the room. Here is the room. Techno just has to wait in the room.

It takes an embarrassingly long time of arguing with himself to manage to inch even a little bit away from the spot he was glued to. By the time his fingertips can brush the wall below the window, his brain feels like it’s being twisted. 

With an exhale, Techno collapses onto the floor, shivering roughly. If the crew is going to dump him in a random room for however long, they at least could have given him his dirty old coat back. Maybe then he could sleep while waiting. But it’s still gone from some odd punishment. Probably they’ve just forgotten.

When the cloying discomfort passes enough for Techno to open his eyes without feeling dizzy, he stares up at the ceiling. The very corner of the window is visible, but it just shows a wedge of the sky. It’s nearly black, nighttime well on the way.

The slightly acidic taste of salt is just barely there, squeezing past the window frame.

It seems to allow Techno to sit up, body pushing him to get closer, even when something is still trying to poke him back towards the random spot on the floor. Grabbing onto the widow’s edge, he hoists himself up and sweeps his eyes over the scene before him quickly. It takes a few seconds for the sight to register in his mind.

Most of the view is blocked by buildings. But just barely peeking around it all is an endless expanse of nothing. But it’s the most comforting sort of nothing, the type Techno wants to sink into and never escape. Because the ocean is the only thing that could cut the world that way.

He’s not quite sure where the shaky sigh comes from. It’s a sort of relief for sure, but the reasoning behind it… He doesn’t know. The smell and sounds had already registered the fact that they’re on the coast, near the water. So Techno already knew.

But it hardly matters. Not when he can actually see it. Close enough to see and hear and smell and taste it. Techno can almost touch it from here too. 

But his fingers just meet glass.

His chest aches, like hands are closing around his lungs and squeezing till he can barely breathe around them. Little wheezes leave his mouth as he grabs at his neck a bit desperately. Still, his eyes never stray from the window, like if he looks away the sight will be taken from him again.

Eventually the barest of light that was graying the sky fades from it and night falls properly. It makes it nearly impossible to see the water, even when Techno squints hard. The cold glass presses on his nose, shocking him slightly from his reverie and making him blink his burning eyes.

There’s a shake in Techno’s fingers and an itching in his brain. Hesitantly, he turns his face from the window and faces the door. It’s still shut, not having budged. 

Techno… wants to go to the ocean.

While the want isn’t odd—surely he ached for such a thing a million times over the years since he’s been on land—the thoughts that come with it are. Because there’s an inkling of a plan, barely reaching the front of his brain like it doesn’t want to risk someone else hearing of it. Because the ocean is so close and Techno is alone.

The problem is, of course, the order. Wait here. Techno can not disobey.

And even if he could, he would be leaving his skin behind. It’s already been stripped from him, leaving him bare and freezing beneath the too thin human’s skin. At least when he’s with the crew, he’s close to it. He knows he is, even if he doesn’t know where they keep the skin, because they wouldn’t be able to command him to do things without it.

So if Techno leaves, if he could leave, he would be abandoning his skin.

The thought hurts, just as it hurts to be away from the sea. A choked sort of noise leaves Techno and he presses his forehead to the window, willing himself closer to the water he can’t even see anymore. It’s like all his insides are shaking, trying to break free from his form and escape. It’s a horrible sort of almost deja-vu that makes his eyes heavier.

Techno swallow roughly, throat hurting all the way like it’s stopped up. He swears that salt water is running down the back of his throat. 

With a jerky motion, Techno sets about prying the window open. His mind is already screaming at the actions, demanding for him to wait here, but he hasn’t disobeyed yet. Not technically, even if he’s planning to. He hasn’t yet.

When the window finally creaks open, Techno flinches at the noise. But then the smell and sounds hit him, blinding his mind like a proper smack across the face. But the slight dizziness feels more like it’s from pain in his chest than his head, feeling like he can barely breathe.

Probably that’s why his head and upper body end up hanging out of the window before he even comes close to himself again. Gravity pulls him downwards slightly, towards the tiny road below him. His stomach tumbles up rougher at the momentum and his whole body jerks to catch himself.

Though, Techno only manages to do it by smacking his palms on the window sill. Even the thought of dipping a single bit of his body back into the window feels far worse than falling out and splattering on the ground below.

A strange noise bubbles out of Techno, not quite anything he’s heard before. But it’s close to a seal’s bark, or at least it’s meant to be, he thinks. Warped and distorted in his wrong mouth and vocal cords. And untrained. It’s not like he ever had the chance to try making any sounds other than pup calls.

For some reason that thought is enough to make him frown and lean back slightly. Not totally in the window, but a bit more. 

Why does it matter, him not being able to vocalize like seals should? It’s not like he’ll ever get the chance to use it. He should be more messed up over not being able to speak like humans do. It’s surely more inconvenient to him right now.

But human sounds make him feel sick and Techno can still just about hear the calls of his rookery in his ears. Growing more distant every day that passes, even now that he’s by the ocean, closer than ever.

Unsteadily, Techno swings his legs over the edge of the window sill and sits with them hanging below.

Just about all of his body is out of the room right now. All but his hair and the tips of his fingers. But it’s not enough, not even close. The waves are nearly inaudible, and yet somehow they almost overpower the command in his head.

Almost.

Wait here till I get back.

It’s indistinguishable. No other way to interpret the words; fingernails run over his brain and dig them deeper and deeper within. Here. This room. Till Dave returns…

Technically he didn’t specify the room as here. He meant it and Techno knows he meant it, which is what really matters. 

But also, not quite. 

How many times has Techno been forced to near impossible feats just by sloppy wording. “Hold still” and his lungs scarcely suck in air for fear of moving his chest. Or “don’t do that,” and suddenly Techno was physically unable to do anything besides monitor how he was walking in fear of bumping into anyone. For weeks! The only reason that one got undone is that the crew got pissed that he could basically not function with the preoccupation and overrode the command.

Here. And just until Dave is back…

Dave isn’t back yet, so Techno can’t leave here. That’s definitely unchangeable. But, well, he left the spot and nothing happened. He was able to leave the spot on the ground. Which means that that spot can not be here.

Where does ‘here’ begin and end? They’re in a new town today, never been here before. Been here.

Oxygen refuses to leave or enter Techno’s lungs, simply stagnating in between. But, slowly, he pushes on his hands as he creeps away from the window. When he is perched on the edge, nearly falling off, he glances backwards and finds that he is fully outside of the room now. But he’s still here.

With a shove, Techno tips over the edge and tumbles through the air. His eyes pinch shut against the onslaught of wind that grabs at his hair and clothes and skin. The chill burns, almost enough to feel like a punishment.

But before Techno can get swept up in the unpleasant feeling, his hands snap backwards and grapple awkwardly with the windows edge. Just barely he manages to grab on with his fingertips. It’s lucky he had to use his hands for that, since they’re much more dexterous than his feet and legs, but not exactly perfect. Though that’s hardly a thought when he swings into the side of the building.

All of his bones ache with the impact, knocking any air left in his lungs all the way out. Even hanging literally out of a building, Techno feels stunned dumb for a few good seconds. Then his arms start spasming and he sucks in a grand breath.

Looking down, all of Techno’s insides twist at the distance between himself and the ground. It’s not ridiculously far, he probably jumped off similar heights of ice shelves into the water as a pup, but his body doesn’t like the momentum. And there’s no water to catch his fall this time.

From this angle though, Techno can just about see the moon shining off of the black ocean between two buildings. It shimmers, scales of a fish or fresh clear ice. With wide eyes, Techno lets go and drops.

The second that his feet touch the ground his knees buckle, not even trying to stay upright. He bends low, palms smacking into the ground and catching just about as much weight as his feet do. That doesn’t stop sharp pain from shooting up his limbs enough for his eyesight to fizzle out to white.

Techno isn’t sure how sharp the edges of the pain are. If all of his bones shattered apart and are cutting up his insides with the jagged edges. If he’s even alive right now or in a moment when his heart catches up to his body.

The pain doesn’t exactly fade, but eventually his hands push against the ground as he grapples to stand. It feels a lot like when he first learned to walk, though learned is a generous word. Pushing onto the tips of his toes makes his jaw grind at the awful pain gripping his ankles and lower legs.

Something is obviously wrong, it has to be to hurt this much. But it’s not the worst pain Techno’s ever felt, not even close. And he’s always been forced to walk through that before. There was never the smell of the ocean urging him on then either, which hardly makes him notice the pain gripping him and how he keeps tripping.

As long as he gets to the water, who cares?

Suddenly his body seems to fall away. Techno is still there and stumbling forwards, can raise his hand out to reach towards the water or whine stupidly, but it’s hardly noticeable. And with it goes all the shackles holding him. Techno can barely feel his missing skin. Can barely hear the commands or feel the punishments. The moon is so bright and all of him is touching the ocean.

There’s no thought as he trips and falls his way through the little streets and between buildings, trying with all his might to sprint. It’d be easier in the water, swimming with his flippers and being held up by the waves. The land is nothing but pieces in between where he’s meant to be, where it will all be correct and right again.

Techno can taste the ocean, and he can’t tell if it’s the air or tears. It doesn’t matter, they’ll both return to the same.

The closer he gets the more the water rises out to greet him. Little pricks of water fly through the air and stick on his skin, as if it too is eager to hold him. And the air is filled with the discordant churning of the grand waters. It’s loud enough to feel. 

And, finally, when he breaks past the last line of houses, there’s nothing but horizon.

It’s endless. It’s nothing. It’s so much that the mind gets overwhelmed trying to understand. Techno sees it all as perfection, the entire world bending the way that it is meant to.

Very nearly, he almost falls off the drop off of a cliff. 

His body stops him somehow, perhaps the recent memory of falling from the window and how all of him does hurt if he thinks about it. But Techno freezes as he looks straight down and finds gray and black thrashing like wild jaws a long way below him. The wind pushing on his back tries to urge him into it.

It’s so close, it’s breathtaking. Very truly, since his head starts to go dizzy with his messed up breathing. Like Techno’s already been under the water far too long.

But he’s not even close, not close enough. He needs to get in the water, right this second or else—or else—

Techno looks around in desperation, feeling like a madman at the end of his life. Because certainly he is. Certainly he will die if he does not slip into the water and let it hold him how it was always meant to. How he’s forgotten how it feels already.

The coast is lined with high cliffs as far as he can see. If Techno was better in his mind, perhaps he would search more diligently and pick out the beaches that are certainly dotted about. But instead a broken sound leaves his lips and he stumbles ever closer to the edge.

Some logical part of him whispers one last warning, how he shouldn’t do this. His stomach is twisting and turning, worse even than in the window. Don’t jump, don’t jump.

But the water is so much louder and it screams beautiful dangerous promises to Techno.

So he jumps.

There’s nothing to grab onto to slow his fall here. The air is caustic with the salt spray and the wind roars in time with the waves as it scratches his ear drums. Techno doesn’t have time to blink before his body hits the water’s surface.

It’s cold, freezing all the way down to his core. His skin sings at the touch, making his insides start to beg. Perhaps it’s his lungs, begging him to swim up and take in a breath of air. Though Techno can’t think of that, not when everything else is trying to push out. 

His insides are searching for his skin, the right one, he realizes. The same way that he twisted into the hideous humanity on land, trying in vain to live, all of him tries to go the other way now. And Techno doesn’t fight it of course, not like the original turn. He wants it just as much. Could die for it, would if he could.

But there’s nothing for his body to reach out for and fold into.

The only skin on his body is weak and thin and jitters at the touch of the water. There’s no pleasant invitation and it’s all wrong.

Suddenly plunged into fear, Techno gasps before choking. The sea is even less kind to his insides. It knows he’s not meant to be in it, that he’s the one that is wrong here. Maybe it is trying to force the seal out. But suddenly the threat of death doesn’t feel so kind, not from within this skin that protests at such treatment.

Reaching for his flippers, Techno tries to kick them enough to reach the surface. But his limbs are clumsier than they’ve ever been. If legs are hard pressed to learn to walk, they refuse to swim. Every jerk of his body is sloppy and uncoordinated, and with the waves spitting and tumbling, he just gets dragged along pliantly.

It’s not what he wanted and it feels like a cheat. Techno wants to cry out in protest, be the one begging this time. For the ocean to accept him, to bring him an inch back to his true self.

But there’s no recognition in the cruel hands for just another human. 

It gets darker, the deeper he’s dragged. Or maybe it is just his mind, lost to the scalding saline. The shock of it hurts more than the reality. 

Techno almost doesn’t notice when something wraps around him and starts tugging him upwards. It’s only when the chilling breeze above water slaps into him that he notices. Or at least his body does, considering how he immediately sputters and starts convulsing around the water in his lungs.

Though the waves haven’t quite given him up. They try to yank him down, pushing water up into his face despite whatever holding him up. Surely, they’re the only thing that stops him from being yanked back below. For them, the water seems to part.

Exhausted, Techno can only lay there as he’s thrown onto the water’s edge. The ocean still laps at him, but more tentatively now. No longer fighting to get him back in its grasp. Techno almost mourns it.

But whatever saved him returns now and starts dragging him properly out of the tide and up on the sand. A hand clutches his arm and his mind instantly shivers at the human touch. Though his mind turns over in confusion. He swears there were no hands on whatever was pulling him up before…

His body is dropped onto the wet sand, dislodging a bit more of the water within him. It clings to the bottom of his throat though, burning there instead of pushing up. Techno doesn’t notice how his eyes fell shut again until a hand is closing around his jaw.

Techno flinches a little, eyes fluttering open weakly as he coughs a little. Through his smeary eyes, he can just about make out a face, backlit by the moon and turning brown curls iridescent. Techno swears their eyes shine the exact same shade as the celestial body though.

Then his head is tipped to the side, far more gently than Techno could ever imagine being touched. That’s kind of snapped away when hands land on his chest and press down deeply, veins of pain running out over every rib.

Some sort of noise tries to leave him at the pain, but it’s quickly overwhelmed by a gush of salt water. The liquid shoots out of his nose and mouth, feeling more like hell flames than any sort of water. But his body seems to have a mind of its own now, spasming and coughing up more and more of the scalding fluid.

Techno almost thinks he’s drowning again, it hurts so bad. Worse than the original murkiness of the depths. At least the water held him—roughly and cruel—through that.

Oddly, when Techno blinks through the tears and sputtering, he realizes that someone is holding him now too. There’s arms holding him up, half propped on a chest. And they gently shove the hair off of Techno’s face and hold him so he doesn’t reswallow the water. It’s—

A shout suddenly pierces the air, making the person behind him jump. Sluggishly, Techno peers towards the commotion, confused. It’s not until he’s being dropped back to the ground that Techno realizes he knows the cause. The crew…

Techno can’t help looking after the person cast in the moon. Their kind hands, his savior. Surely they—

But, the only snatch of them that Techno sees before they disappear is a pearlescent silver fur around their shoulders. It almost looks like a seal’s skin…

Specks of water escape Techno’s mouth as his head is jerked upwards violently, rough fingers twisting in his hair. There’s a thousand screaming voices, seemingly, or maybe that’s the sea still playing tricks on his head. Taunting, threatening, something.

Techno closes his eyes and lets himself go limp even as hair gets pulled from his scalp. Lets himself get yanked over the beach. Towards the land. Away from the water.

Both sides hurt him just the same, alone in the middle. Maybe those are the only hands that can hurt him now. The owners of agony.

Chapter Text

Techno isn’t surprised to wake up with his hand held awkwardly above his head. It’s become routine at this point, rope or even cuffs securing his wrist to something any time he’s left alone or to sleep or just… whenever the crew feels like it.

His shoulder aches terribly, but it feels like a formality at this point. Techno blinks his sticky eyes a few times before trying to roll over and fall back asleep. 

Only, it was a noise that woke him to begin with. Jiggling at the doorknob in a way that sounds distinctly like rusty keys. Techno pinches his eyes shut tighter, wishing them away. Or wishing himself away, though that want feels far more foolish.

The door creaks open with no care for him of course.

“Wake up!” Dave’s lovely voice fills the room, making Techno flinch despite the fact that it’s not a command he has to follow, already being awake.

Still, he doesn’t bother kicking up a fuss before opening his eyes and trying to sit up a little. Being commanded about, or moved physically, is sure to not be any more gentle than the rude awakening. 

“We have shit to do today. Behave and be useful for once.” Dave leans closer, grabbing Techno by the side of his chin and yanking him up by it. His neck protests, very nearly being yanked from his shoulders. “Not that it fucking matters…”

Techno’s not so sure what the man could mean by that, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it really. Or not the energy at least. Or brain power. Or emotional security. Or—

It’d be shorter to list what he does have really.

Which is apparently a tin of sardines. A bit of the liquid sloshes out of the can into his lap when it’s tossed there, making Techno wrinkle his nose up. It’s not the worst thing spilled on him by the crew, but it isn’t great.

“Eat that. Then sit on the bed till I come and get you.”

Dave unlocks his wrist from the bar of the bed as he gives the command. Intently, Techno stares downward. One of the murky dead eyes of the fish stares up at him through the juice. It’s a similar shade to his own eyes.

The second that the man leaves the room, Techno sighs and relaxes against the bed a little bit. Not that it’s much more comfortable than being tied up, but he might as well rest while he can. Trying anything tricky seems pointless, so he simply doesn’t. Instead he just picks up one of the limp fish with his fingers and brings it to his mouth. 

The skin and bones split beneath his teeth. It’s unpleasant, as one would expect chewing on bones would be. But the tiny scales that slip between his teeth make him downright shiver.

It’s almost familiar. Not in a strange way, he can guess that he ate them as a seal. Fish. It does feel strange in this mouth though.

But Techno’s used to not being right, and everything around him being wrong too. So he eats the stupid slimy fish and then sits on the bed until someone comes to get him.

In that time, he gets time to think. Though, it’s less thinking and more listening. Outside of the room, he can hear a bunch of voices. They’re overlapping, occasionally rising and falling like the tides. Laughter sometimes, and other times he’s convinced they’re yelling and he thinks they must be fighting. But then the laughter will come again and Techno shrugs off any tension.

It doesn’t matter. Whoever is there, whatever is happening. It doesn’t matter, not to him. And even if it did, it can’t. Because he’s not allowed. All he’s allowed to do right now is sit on the bed.

His throat hurts. Probably from the fish bones.

Forcibly, Techno kind of zones out for a little while. It’s the only way he can get his mind to stop spinning in on itself. Though it’s only half successful at that.

When a key grinds in the lock again, Techno jumps and blinks thickly, trying to clear the glare over his eyes. At the sight of Dave stepping into the room snaps his whole body into attention. Though the smile on the man’s face is what makes his stomach sink.

“Stand up. Come here,” Dave says hurriedly, attention seemingly half out of the room.

His legs are weak from laying down for so long, nearly unable to hold his weight. But there’s no time for Techno to catch his balance since Dave is already walking out of the room. Unsteady on the tips of his toes, Techno follows behind like there’s a rope connecting them. He can even feel it tugging on all of his organs.

As they step out of the small side room, Techno does freeze for a fraction of a second though. It’s quite justified, in his opinion. After all, there are over a dozen people staring directly at him. Eyes boring right through him and into his insides.

They’re people that the crew knows, seemingly. Other criminals? Or associates? Or who the hell knows what? It doesn’t matter, or it shouldn’t, because Techno is never involved in these sorts of things. Business meetings…

Stiffly, Techno follows just a bit too close to Dave. At least he knows what the expect from that man. It’s nothing good, but at least it’s a known.

“Well, it sure looks strange, but I don’t see anything selkie like about it,” One of the men calls out gruffly.

Techno can’t help tilting his head a bit in confusion. These people know he’s a selkie? Usually the crew keeps that a secret, for obvious reasons. While selkies aren’t well known exactly, or at least the facts about them aren’t, enough people know enough to be risky. 

And yet these people have been told.

“Ain’t exactly in seal form,” Dave says with a huff. Then, quicker than Techno can blink, he grabs Techno’s chin and jerks his face forward. “You can see it in the face. Look.”

And some of the men do creep closer, leaning into his space and looking into Techno’s eyes and at his cheeks and skin. Desperately, Techno wants to escape from the tight space. The closeness is worse than if it was just the crew hitting him or something, he can deal with that. Plenty of experience after all. But the attention…

“Stay still,” Dave says placidly, making Techno freeze so quickly his joints smart.

“And it always listens then? I thought that was a myth.” One of the men has the gall to reach out and grab a lock of Techno’s greasy pink hair. Definitely one of his not quite human features. He can’t even shudder.

“Anyone holding its skin can make a command and it will follow. Only if it’s possible of course, but it can't refuse.”

At the explanation, Techno cuts his eyes over to Dave, nerves welling up within him. The way that he’s saying it, it almost sounds like when the crew is upselling something they’re trying to get off their hands. It can’t be that though, can it? That doesn’t—

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Someone scoffs.

Dave smiles and lets go of Techno, stepping back and very obviously searching through his pocket. Then, he pulls out something pale pink, nearly grey. And Techno’s eyes grow wide enough to hurt all on their own. His skin! But not all of it, just a scrap. Where—

“Jump.”

Techno instantly leaps off of the tips of his toes, stumbling a bit when he lands. A few people around the room laugh, making Techno very purposefully clear his face.

“You could train a dog to do the same,” Someone jeers.

“I suppose…” Dave trails off for a minute, before smiling. “Hold your breath.”

Against his will, Techno pulls in a small breath until his lips smash shut and refuse to budge. His heart starts pounding right away, far sooner than it should. But already he feels like he’s drowning, the fear that comes with it at least. Because Techno can’t take a single breath no matter how hard he tries.

Logically, he will take a breath again. No one can choose to hold their breath to death even if they wanted to, eventually their body will force them to breathe. And Techno can’t be forced to do impossible things.

But as the smirking faces around him start to smear, looking like snarls, Techno feels heat flood through him. It settles most heavily within his skull, blood feeling like it’s expanding and boiling up. When darkness starts to eat into his eyes, Techno can’t help looking towards Dave in desperation. 

He’s not sure what he’s expecting exactly. Not kindness or a break from the man, that would not be like him at all. And yet Techno still finds himself looking for something.

Dave smirks at him. The next time that Techno blinks, his vision doesn’t return with the opening of his eyes.

Instead, Techno finds himself sputtering on the floor, confused and choking. There’s ringing all around him, but as that bleeds away, there’s some other repetitive sound too. And it’s only that Techno can squint through the blurriness that he realizes it’s laughter.

“You can breathe,” Dave says derisively, barely even audible to Techno. 

But, it’s just loud enough for Techno to hear and suck in a large proper lungful of air. It sets off another round of coughing too, but he can hardly care when the oxygen feels cool in his mouth and chest. Like a salve over burning skin, or maybe jumping into water with seared skin. It’s not exactly painless, but it’s certainly better.

“Now do you believe me?” Dave asks, turning his hands towards the crowd.

The cuffs of pink fur are still held within them. His skin. His coat, or what used to be it. Techno’s only caught snatches of it over the years, nothing like this. He feels hollow, staring at them. Certainly, that’s not all of his skin. Who knows where it is? How far he truly is from all of himself…

“So what do you want for it then?” Someone finally asks, cutting an impercievable tension.

Then, the levity drains from the room. After all, these aren’t a group of friends coming around to discuss a joke, no matter how Techno would snort in ridicule at the sorry state of himself.

“You know what an auction is. But, starting price: let’s say thirty.”

Following Dave’s statement, a few people scoff and titter to themselves. Offended by the price apparently. Techno can’t say he really knows if it’s too high or not. For himself? For his entire being, controlled by the whim of anyone’s mouth? For his skin? It seems low for all that, but what does Techno know?

When everyone glances around at each other, there seems to be some sort of understanding made. And, a few people raise their hands, firmly saying numbers. Techno supposes it wasn’t too high for them. Most of them even.

He doesn’t bother peeling himself off of the ground while men shout the price of his life over his body. Techno just breathes.

It’s easy enough to step away from the confusing mess of numbers anyway. Over the years in the crew, he’s obviously gotten exposed to numbers and money enough to begin to understand it. But it still confuses him at times, especially when they’re all shouting at once. Overlapping numbers and names. It sounds like nonsense. Rushing water.

Vaguely, Techno wonders what the people that buy him this time will do. Seems like they’re all criminals. Will they be worse than the crew and Dave? Certainly they won’t be better.

Suddenly enough to even catch Techno’s attention, a man dressed in all black with clicking shoes steps forward. It’s not exactly with flourish and the man isn’t much attention grabbing, being average in build and looks. Chin length blond hair and broad shoulders. But he holds up one hand casually, almost waving but not quite.

“Three hundred.”

There’s a second of silence after the words, before the room of people explodes. They seem upset, yelling at the man. Must be a pretty high price for no one else to match it and be so angry it was even proposed.

Slowly, hoping to not gain attention, Techno sits up on the floor, staring at the blond man hesitantly.

The man does not spare Techno a look, simply staring at Dave evenly. Waiting to see if he accepts? Techno can’t help looking over too, at the man that holds his fate in his hands. Not the stranger, but Dave. The man that bought him to begin with. Stole his skin and his life and the ocean from him.

After seemingly contemplating the man, Dave tilts his head to the side.

“Sold.”

More outrage immediately follows, enough to make Techno want to lay down again. His spine is a bit too straightened with fear to do so though. All of him feels stiff and frozen with a dawning horror.

This is really happening.

The stranger steps closer to Dave, seemingly sorting out the money. But Techno’s brain feels left behind, stuck within all the complaints yelled around the room. Like some part of him is trying to object too, not that he has the will for it.

“Unless you can match the price, shut up! Damn shitbags,” Dave yells before snatching a handful of notes out of the stranger’s hand, grinning wickedly. Then he turns to Techno. “Stand up.”

Techno stands up. On his toes, he nearly meets the stranger’s height. But it doesn’t feel like much of a consolation.

As some of the men in the room storm out or shuffle about or approach the other crew members, Techno meets Dave gaze with a ball of pain in his stomach. The crooked smile on the man’s face has not an inch of remorse or regret. Techno swears he can feel every injury Dave has put upon him over the years.

“What’s your name?” Dave asks shortly.

“Phil,” The stranger answers.

“Right. Listen to Phil from now on.”

Before the words can fully sink in, Dave is handing the cuffs over to the stranger, to Phil, before striding away. And there’s nothing Techno can do aside from waiting for his next command.

A twisted look crosses Phil’s face for a second, like he tasted something sour. But then he turns to Techno and his features smooth out.

“Follow me and stay close.”

And Techno is walking before Phil fully turns on his heel and steps away. It seems that everyone in the room watches after them closely, scowling up a storm. If Phil notices it, he doesn’t seem to care. Well, a man that can get the prize without raising more than a single finger probably isn’t so easily bothered. 

Techno wonders what that means for him, the prize won, so to speak. Or, more like the merchandise bought. 

Why does that make Techno feel so brittle? Without pausing, he looks over his shoulder one last time. But no one he knows is looking back.

“Have you ridden horseback before?” Phil asks, pulling Techno from his mind and making him turn his head quickly enough to be dizzy.

It takes a few seconds too long for Techno to understand the question, long enough that Phil’s plain face starts to scrunch up a little. With a jerk, Techno shrugs and shakes his head. He’s only rode in carts on the back of horses, but it doesn’t seem exceedingly complicated. Hopefully.

“You, um, may speak,” Phil says.

It’s said slightly awkwardly and Techno shrinks a little under the command. Obviously the crew tried to get him to speak by demanding that he does. But the most that would come out of his mouth was some short noises, nothing like words. Techno supposes that he physically can not speak. Somehow.

“Right, well,” Phil clears his throat and stands up straight. “I’ll help you up, you can ride behind me.”

The forewarning is strange to hear, useless considering the man has his skin. Why waste any words on letting him know what will happen instead of just making it happen in an instance. Perhaps he doesn’t know how to word the commands yet.

Phil climbs onto the back of the tall black horse. The animal barely reacts to the added weight or jostling, just shaking its head out a bit. Techno can’t help looking up at it skeptically. Horses are an animal he’s had more experience with than most others, but they’re very large and usually skittish. This one seems calmer though, as though not expecting to be whipped or kicked like normal.

“Here.” Phil lowers his hand.

Techno takes the offering, though not without reluctance pushing at his features. The hand is worn and calloused and warm, but he’s more surprised that it doesn’t crush his and yank him up roughly. Instead it’s a steady brace as Techno unsteadily steps on the stirrup and climbs up behind the man.

“It’s a bit of a ride, but I want to get home quickly. Let me know if you need to stop for a break.”

The words are said so casually, like they’re not commands at all. But Techno knows that they are, that he’s bound to them. It’s almost more confusing than if they were shouted at him.

As Phil clicks his teeth to get the horse to start trotting, Techno automatically grabs onto the back of his cloak, feeling like he might fall out of the saddle. Though, it’s only then that Techno notices the strange texture of the clothing. There’s a normal fabric layered on top of something plush and soft. It peaks out in a few places though, the fur.

It’s a dark slate grey color, just a bit darker than most fur clothing would be. But Techno swears that the texture looks very familiar. Almost like… it’s speckled by the moon.

Techno’s fingers jerk backwards as though he was burned. Though it’s nothing compared to how his eyes widen, enough that they hurt and he fears that they’re about to pop straight out. But that would only bring him closer to the skin crawling fur in front of him, so he doesn’t dare.

It’s a selkie skin.

Obvious, but only because he’s close. And because his own skin is seared into his head despite only seeing it a few times in his life. But Techno just knows.

With fearful eyes, Techno looks at the back of the man’s head before him. If he’s noticed Techno’s sudden tension, he doesn’t say anything. Instead he just keeps riding on, uncaring and stoic to the world. With the skin of a selkie around his shoulders and the key to Techno’s being within his pockets.

Suddenly, Techno is convinced that something very bad is about to happen to him. That someone with power over him, that truly knows how to use it without even blinking, has bought him. Like he’s bought others before, apparently.

It’s not the first time Techno’s felt doomed like this. But he does feel very small and stupid, unknowing of the world that he is about to step into.

Chapter Text

The chill in the air seems to have numbed Techno down to his core. 

Maybe he’s just too tired to feel anything about anything anymore. After all, this is technically a new terrifying experience, but it’s not new new. Techno has belonged to people, criminals, for years and done their bidding. Probably most of his life at this point. So he doesn’t have too much energy within him to be more than the usual baseline anxious.

The other part is just that, well, he’s cold. Riding on a horse’s back with few pauses for several days straight is exhausting and the cold has wicked any heat from his skin. And Techno is lacking his fur cloak, though he hasn’t seen it in so long that it’s only a pang of disappointment to know he’s lost that forever too.

Shivering slightly, Techno wraps one of his arms around himself and curls inwards.

“Are you cold?” Phil asks suddenly, making Techno jump.

The man had tried to keep up a casual sort of conversation over the past few days. But, obviously, Techno hasn’t answered. It doesn’t seem to make Phil angry like most people get when he remains silent, but it’s been kind of awkward.

Vaguely, Techno shakes his head. He is, but he doesn’t want to tell the man that. Doesn’t want to reveal even this small meaningless part of himself if he doesn’t have to.

Phil simply hums and turns back around, messing with the horse’s reins. “We’re nearly home now. The place is a bit secluded, but it’s by the shore.”

Techno doesn’t know he bothers to say that. Despite being in contrast with the man’s seemingly stony nerves, he had assumed that Phil was a nervous babbler or something with the random tries at conversation. But bringing up this…

Maybe he’s mocking Techno. After all, Phil has at least one other selkie under his control. So, maybe he knows how badly it hurts to be apart from the ocean and is taunting Techno with false hopes that will never be fulfilled.

But Phil doesn’t know that Techno has already had those sorts of hopes killed, good and dead. So it will not work on him. 

Techno holds himself tighter and looks away, off into the scenery.

Quicker than he expected, they turn down a path lined with stones off of the more overgrown one through the sparse woods. At the end of the drive is a house, though that’s hardly what Techno’s looking at. Since, it seems that the world disappears beyond it. And there’s only one thing that could be.

Close to the shore was a bit of an understatement. It practically engulfs the house, with its sounds and smells and sights. Little pricks of salted water float through the air. 

They feel cold on Techno’s skin.

“I’ll get the horse set up after you settle in. Though I should warn you that two other selkies live here too,” Phil says after sliding off of the horse.

Two selkies. So Techno is at least the third Phil’s owned. That… Techno doesn’t know what that means. Or what it could mean.

Phil has to jostle his offered hand before Techno’s face to snap him out of his mind. It’s a shock that he does not yell or seem annoyed. Even when Techno hesitantly grabs the hand and climbs off of the horse.

“They’ll probably be home, I’ll introduce you,” Phil continues, like Techno said anything.

They step closer to the house and Techno feels something well up within him. Sharp edged and biting. Eager, like the underfed dogs he’s seen lining some of the streets. Maybe that’s why his stomach hurts too.

Chewing on the inside of his mouth, Techno folds his arms close to him. Then he listens to his commands. Follow me and stay close. Easy enough. Techno can do that.

Phil knocks on the door before swinging it open, sighing a little bit while murmuring to himself. It sounds disappointed, though not overly upset. Or mad at least.

“Hello! Has my home been ransacked while I was gone, or is it just unlocked for the wild animals?” Phil calls.

As he walks into the front room, he takes off his cloak and hangs it on the rack by the door. Though notably the selkie skin around his shoulders does not budge. Techno can’t help staring at it a little, even though he tries not to.

There’s footsteps from deeper within the house, and as they grow close Techno straightens up. One of the selkies. Or perhaps a human? Someone in Phil’s crew? In which case, they’ll certainly have some control over Techno as well, so staying alert can’t be bad.

“Phil!” Someone bellows while racing into the room.

Unwittingly, Techno takes a step back, closer to the door. Phil doesn’t react to his retreating, seemingly far more focused on the young man before him. He also has blond hair, though is taller and ganglier, perhaps with youth. Before Techno can take in his appearance much, Phil is pulling him down into a hug anyway.

“Is Wilbur around?” Phil asks.

“What? Nothing to say to me?” The blond boy pouts.

“Nope, where’s the other?”

With a scoff, the two part. “In his room, I knocked and he said he heard.”

Phil nods and takes a full step back. Which seemingly reveals Techno’s existence to the other in the room. And the staring that Techno was doing gets pointed back at him two fold.

“It was a real selkie then? What’s your name?” The boy asks.

Again, Techno shuffles back on his toes a little bit, averting his eyes from the heavy contact. Even though he doesn’t appear to be outright hostile, the young man is intimidating, at least in a way. Obviously, he is not one of Phil’s selkies. Or at least, probably not. The fondness between them wouldn't make sense if that were the case.

“Um, why are they ignoring me?” The blond leans closer to Phil with that question, obviously not asking Techno.

“I don’t think he is. He hasn’t spoken at all.”

“Oh. Uhm,” The blond looks kind of lost. Which at least Techno can relate to there. “I’m Tommy, nice to meet you? Do you understand english?”

At that, Techno can nod. While it was a slight struggle for the first few months, he did have enough experience with hearing spoken language from the selkies in his rookery and such to understand most of it. And by now, spoken language isn’t a problem.

Tommy’s eyebrows scrunch up a bit at the answer. He opens his mouth, only to be shoved roughly by Phil.

“Don’t say anything insensitive.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Tommy throws his hands into the air.

During their back and forth, Techno just about catches a snatch of movement in the corner of the room. Right where Tommy had entered. Techno leans around Phil enough to properly see who is walking in, unsurprised by another young man appearing.

The only remarkable thing about him at first glance is that he is very, very tall. And his hair is brown to the others’ blonds, though Techno has seen that that’s more normal anyway.

“Wilbur! Would you tell Phil to shut his mouth and that I’m a great host?” Tommy spins around towards the newcomer.

“What?” Wilbur looks up, raising an eyebrow in a sarcastic sort of manner.

It sticks as his eye slid over the group. Tommy, then Phil, and then Techno. Only when it hits him, the look totally slides away.

Alongside it, so does the color in Wilbur’s face and any levity in him. In fact, he looks downright horrified, or maybe like he’s going to puke. Techno is tempted to take another step back in case he does, but decides that it may be too far from Phil to be considered close.

“Wilbur?” Phil asks, obviously confused by the reaction too. “What is—”

Before the man even has the chance to finish his question, Wilbur is turning and running out of the room, quicker than he entered. Techno stares after, confused and blinking dumbly. What was that about?

“What the hell?” Tommy asks.

“I don’t know,” Phil says. Then he turns to Techno, making him stiffen. “Any idea what that was about?”

Quickly, Techno shakes his head. As far as he knows, this can’t be his fault. And he would rather avoid getting punished for nothing so soon. 

“I don’t—”

“I’ll go see,” Tommy cuts off Phil, following after the brunette. Then he pauses and turns to Techno, sticking a finger at him. “Uh, welcome. Or whatever.”

With that, he disappears and Techno and Phil are alone again. It was odd, not like Techno expected. And none of the unknowns have really been answered. But he supposes it could have been worse.

Phil shakes his head. “Sorry about all that, those two get up to trouble.”

Now that kind of sounds like something one would say about their selkies, but again, Phil doesn’t seem overly upset. But then Phil is stepping closer and Techno can’t quite care about that anymore.

“Let’s chat about some things, there wasn’t really time on the way over.”

When Phil reaches out to touch Techno’s elbow, he can’t help flinching backwards. The man’s eyes crinkle a little bit, but he does draw back at least. It makes Techno’s pounding heart feel silly, but his body doesn’t really calm.

“Right. Let’s start with this then.” Phil pulls the furred cuffs out of his pockets, holding them slightly out.

Techno’s eyes are glued to them immediately. It’s the closest he’s been to his skin for forever. If he wanted, he could touch. Well, not if he wanted. But if he was allowed.

He wonders what Phil will demand of him right now. Perhaps that he talks. Or not flinch away from punishments. Or some other mistake Techno made that he didn’t even notice.

“Let’s see… You don't have to follow me anymore. And any commands made by the previous person who owned your skin no longer stand. You do not have to follow them if you don’t want to.”

Confusion drops over Techno like a sheer curtain. Perhaps the cloth is clogging up his ears and making him hear wrong. But Phil doesn’t burst out into laughter or slap him for even thinking it could be the truth. 

Instead, Phil holds the cuffs out closer to Techno. And when he doesn’t do anything, Phil shakes them insistently.

“You can take them, they’re yours. I think all the commands should be lifted, and if not, owning your skin again should help with them anyway.”

Still, Techno is left blinking dumbly long after Phil stops talking. He wishes he could question the man, if only to clarify the immense confusion coursing through him. Though even then, he’s not sure he would. Because surely this is a trick. Or a test. Or something that will end up with Techno being laughed at and hurt.

But Phil just keeps standing there, looking a little awkward and holding out the massacred scraps of his soul. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to let up on whatever he’s trying to prove. So, slowly, Techno reaches out towards them.

His fingers shake so much that he almost misses touching them, even this close. But the edges of the fur brush his skin and a full body shudder runs through him. It feels dangerous. Like right before Techno dove into the ocean those couple years ago. But it also feels right, and like he wants to take the plunge. 

Crudely, Techno grabs the pieces of skin and holds them to his chest, trying to hide as much of them with his hands that he can. Phil just smiles crookedly at him, taking a step back and retreating his hands. But Techno keeps scanning him, waiting for the attack that is sure to strike out.

“I don’t know where the rest of it is, I tried to ask those people. They said it was gone, they sold it to someone at some point. I think they were telling the truth…” Phil shoves the hair out of his face, looking slightly heated.

The ringing in his ears makes the explanation a little hard to hear. And really he can’t care, not right now at least. Because his chest feels like it’s being carved open, it hurts so terribly he half thinks he’ll faint. But his fingers can’t shift around the skin, not when they could be taken again so easily. And Techno is sure that this time it will kill him.

“Why don’t you sit down, mate,” Phil says, sounding hesitant.

Then he reaches out to Techno, forcing out such a large flinch that Techno’s back hits the door. If it was open, surely he would run, or at least try to. Or maybe it’s just the years of being forced to sit still through the punishment and pain, it’s still second nature. His hands hurt with how tightly he’s holding on still.

“O—kay.” Phil’s voice sounds strained as he steps back. “I’m going to go take a seat in the living room.”

When Techno is alone in the room, his knees give out as though cut away with a long blade. Pain surely flickers all over him as he hits the ground, especially his not quite healed injuries of before, but he doesn’t notice. Instead his throat is tight around his breath as he shoves the soft fur against his cheeks.

Surely, they are getting wet by the saline dripping from his eyes, but that almost feels right too. They’ve been without salt and water for so long. Techno wants to soak in it till this skin can peel off too, and maybe he’ll be closer to something right again.

When the fur is thoroughly damp, he peels it away from his skin with a sniffle. A sharp frown cuts over his lips when he sees the smudges left behind on his fingers, and probably his cheeks. It’s filthy, his skin. Plunging into the sea seems all the more pleasant again. Techno rubs the filth off of himself while swallowing roughly.

His back is still pressed against the door. And, it suddenly hits Techno, that he could leave. Should leave? Techno… should leave.

He turns and looks over his shoulder, as though he can see through the wood. Not that there’s much to see. Trees on one side, ocean on the other. This house seems to be the only one in a long long while. Nothing else about.

Techno could run and disappear into the ocean. For real this time, and not get caught and dragged back. Except— the cuffs in his hands barely take up more space than his palms. It’s nowhere close to all of his skin, even if his skin is logically much smaller than him. He transformed as a child after all, and he’s never turned back even once. Would the full skin even be big enough to hold all of him? To turn him back to a seal?

This certainly isn’t, these two pieces. They’re just enough to hold his neck in a collar, to control his mind and body. But only the human one.

There’s the forest too, made for his horrid human legs. But that seems even less feasible. Where would Techno go? What would he do? Logically, he doesn’t know how to live in the ocean either, but all his time on land, he doesn’t have a clue how he’d keep himself fed and warm and even find clean water.

Even with his skin in his hands, he’s just as trapped as before. It’s better, Techno tries to remind himself. That he has at least a piece of his soul to himself. But whatever Phil wants of him…

Techno glances towards the doorway that Phil disappeared through. He can’t see the man, but surely he’s still nearby. Making sure that Techno can’t escape even with his cuffs. Though it still doesn’t make sense why he gave them over. There must be something to it, the man has other selkies and their skin. So, what could this all be?

There’s really no way for Techno to know other than facing it, facing the man. But, a large part of him really doesn’t want to. Not now that he’s finally gotten his skin back. He could flee, or hide, or maybe even fight back.

The warmth in his hands doesn’t make him any less certain that if he tries to fight he will fail miserably. That if he tries anything it will fail. And he’ll get hurt. Just like always.

With a disappointed sigh, Techno stands on his shaky legs. They feel odder than they have in years, just not right for his body. But he forces himself forwards on the tips of his toes, dread heavy in his chest, but also resigned.

Phil looks up when he enters the room, seemingly having been focused on Techno just as he thought. He shoves his cuffs into his pocket, though doesn’t remove his hand from around them, before creeping further into the room. Phil offers him another smile.

“Right, I don’t know if you want to get settled, or we can talk about some things,” Phil says, sitting up on the couch in a way that seems restless. Techno stays standing. “Um… Can you talk? You haven’t…”

Simply, Techno shakes his head. He hasn’t tried in years and never gave it much of a go to begin with. It almost seems more impossible now that he knows the tricky words better, like maybe his throat has fully died off.

“Okay,” Phil seems to cringe a bit. Perhaps it is more inconvenient than he hoped. “I don’t know any sign language or anything. You can write for now?”

Techno shakes his head, a bit more hesitantly. The thought of writing is far more hopeless than even speaking, at least right now. He’s figured out most numbers and a few words from sight over the years, but it’s not like he’s ever actually written anything before. He’d have no idea where to start.

“No? You can’t write either? Or do you just not want to…” Phil trails off at Techno continued silence. He’s not totally sure how to nod his head to answer that and indicate that it’s the first option. After a moment, Phil sighs. “Alright, we’ll figure out something later.”

With a loose wrist, Phil points towards one of the sitting chairs in the room. Techno thinks about staying standing, but there’s really no point holding out or pushing boundaries here. Plus, he’s tired.

After he sits down, Phil leans forward even more.

“I suppose we just get into it. Do you know anything about your rookery, or anyone like that?”

And that— Phil doesn’t even have to move from his spot for Techno to flinch again. Why is he asking such a thing? It’s so awful, he can’t—

More so to get the flood of blurry images and feelings out of his brain, Techno shakes his head. It’s a bit too desperate, and he has to dig his fingers into the fur of his cuffs. A reminder of where he is and what’s happening, not that it helps all that much.

“Okay, it’s alright, mate. It’s just that if you knew, we could help you try and get back to them, though it’s not like many selkies in your spot do,” Phil says kindly, holding his palms up.

And that somehow confuses Techno even more. Enough to pull him from his brain. It’s odd enough that a human would know about rookeries, would know to prod Techno on it to be—cruel? But he has two other selkies, so maybe he knows.

But the kindness leaves Techno reeling all over again.

“It’s not ideal, but you are safe here for as long as you stay. I can promise you that.”

Phil smiles again, all big and soft. Techno is so confused and off put that he’s breathless from it. Why would Phil do this? Give him his skin. Offer such kindnesses. Promise safety. It doesn’t make sense.

There’s no point to it. It’s not like Techno would fight back or purposefully be problematic even without all this. Even without Phil having his skin. Techno has learned long ago that it’s pointless. And now on the secluded corner of the planet with his cut up fur, it’s all the more true. Techno is already at his mercy, in every way that he can be. Except that Phil is pretending to make that not so.

Phil clears his throat, looking a little more strained. “Well, if you need anything. I’m not quite sure how you can communicate it, but we’ll think of something… Or if you do! Think of a way, that is.”

The ground is far too unsteady below Techno’s feet to parse through any of that. It’s just more nonsense, like once again he’s hearing words he doesn’t understand and could never replicate. His brain feels just as empty as his mouth. His fingers are strangling the cuffs.

“Let me show you the room you can stay in. It was just a spare one, so you can do what you want with it.”

Phil stands and adjusts the skin around his shoulders, fluffing it a little bit. The sight alone is enough to make Techno feel colder, even more disoriented, closer to splitting at the seams. But he simply stands and follows after Phil without preamble.

They walk through most of the house before getting to the room, Phil pointing things out. The whole place is bright and light colored, not overly large but nearly feeling so without the squalor that Techno’s used to. The bedrooms are at the back of the house, and Techno notices immediately that their windows face the ocean.

“Here it is. There should be some clothes in the dresser, feel free to use them. And if you go out, I would prefer a heads up so I know you didn’t get lost or eaten by seagulls.” 

Phil chuckles at the statement, but Techno finds himself unconsciously taking it as an order.

“I’ll leave you to settle in. You’re free to the rest of the house.”

With another smile, Phil is gone. And he even shuts the door too, most of the way. Though Techno’s left staring after it for a little while, feeling muddled within himself. It’s all just very odd. Honestly, his feelings aren’t dissimilar to when he was first captured and thrown onto land. It’s just as strange of a transition.

Slowly, Techno sits down on the bed. The blankets are a pale blue and he almost feels bad for dirtying them up. They’re soft.

In the new light, his skin almost looks dimmer when he pulls it out. Grayed by filth and neglect. Even the fur is a little matted. He wonders what has become with the rest of his skin. Sliced into crude cuffs like this? To be worn sloppily on someone’s wrists or ankles? Or maybe into some gloves or boots. Techno’s been told seal skin is good for them…

His body goes limp as he falls back onto the bed, eyes locking onto the black expanse of the ceiling. It’s better than his skin. Or the ocean. Or… anything. In fact, Techno pinches his eyes shut tightly to see nothing at all. It’s better to hold back the heat anyway.

Chapter Text

Techno finds that the three men he had met are the only ones that live in this new house.

The crew would gain and lose people pretty regularly, so it’s odd that it’s just a couple people living here. Enough that the house is almost always filled with some sort of noise. But not enough to have people stepping on his toes and breathing down his neck at all times.

He thinks he prefers it, not that he leaves the room much. It feels dumb to venture out of the space that is at least somewhat safe. Well, even that is an exaggeration, anyone could come in and do whatever they wanted whenever they wanted. But, at least Techno would have time to hear the key turn in the door to prepare himself. 

Phil asks him to come out and eat multiple times a day, offering plates absolutely full of food. Which makes Techno feel equal parts baffled and like the snapping dogs on the corners of streets. It’s kind of off putting, considering he’s had more food consistently now than forever. So, staying in his rooms during a few of the meals isn’t even hard, or it shouldn’t be. 

Not that it matters, because Phil leaves plates of food outside his door when he does miss the meals anyway.

It’s all so weird and confusing. Techno feels like a dumb little kid again, alone in a new world, and he hates it. Even if he was kicked around like less than an animal with the crew, at least he knew how things worked and managed it. Now his hands are grappling over the chaotic everything, unable to grab on.

Maybe that’s why he’s locking himself in the bedroom. There’s no big changes within the four white walls. Techno feels less like he’s losing control with them wrapped around him. At least till he inevitably creeps over to the window and looks down at the ocean. The sight never fails to make his head and stomach spin dangerously.

Some part of Techno wants to go out to the beach, just to see it closer. But the rest of him revolts at the idea. Too off put by the past memories. And the memories of what happened after…

A knock at the bedroom door jolts Techno from where he was staring vaguely from the bed. A frown crosses his face, but he does get up to see who is there. Even if he has to take a very deep breath before opening the door, tension running through him. The fact that they even bother knocking for him is odd enough without him ignoring them.

The brunette man is standing outside of the door when Techno opens it. Wilbur, Techno thinks. Though admittedly he has been the most absent since Techno’s been there. If possible, Wilbur looks just as startled as him at his appearance.

“Hey, uh, hey,” Wilbur says. Seemingly, he waits for an answer from Techno, despite the fact that Phil has told them that he can’t speak. With a full body jolt, Wilbur starts again. “We’re having dinner. Did you want to come out for it?”

While fiddling with his fingers, Techno actually thinks over the answer. He doesn’t really want to, feeling exposed below Wilbur’s probing eyes. And Phil’s confusing everything. And Tommy’s… loudness.

But Wilbur hasn’t come to get him this whole time. Maybe Phil sent him for a reason? Any change from the norm must mean something. And Techno should probably see what it is.

Hesitantly, he gives a nod.

“Okay,” Wilbur squeaks, vocal chords actually sounding pinched.

The man turns before he can catch Techno’s confused, slightly judgy look. Which is for the best really. But Techno’s still befuddled as he trails behind.

The others are already sitting at the table as they enter the room, plates of food laid out. There’s a few pieces of fish. Techno wonders if someone here caught them. He can’t tell if that makes them more or less appealing, but food is food. He’s not the sort to complain about it.

Taking the seat that has become his norm, Techno waits for the others to grab their plates before making any attempts of his own. Even if Phil always tells him to dig in and get what he wants, the thought of doing so brazenly feels dangerous. Though plates and bowls are prodded unsubtly in his direction while he waits.

As Techno finally takes a bite of the food, long after everyone else has, he looks out the window. It also faces the ocean, which is kind of nice. The waves fill the air in the moments between the prattling of the others. But Techno feels a bit stormy looking out on it all. The water looks gray.

“Did you want to visit the beach?” Phil asks, waving in Techno’s direction to catch his attention.

The offer makes Techno jump. And while his mind obviously tries to pick it apart for a trap or trick, a bigger part of himself feels swept away in the idea. Sure, he technically could have gone out and walked right into the waves again, but—

A shudder runs through Techno as he wraps his arms around himself.

“Are you alright? You don’t have to, but you’re allowed obviously,” Phil says, voice growing softer.

“It’s kind of nerve wracking to swim for the first time if you haven’t in years, but it’s nice!” Tommy says with an encouraging smile.

That very nearly makes Techno snort. It certainly wasn’t nice for him. Though, if Techno’s hunch is right, then Tommy and Wilbur are both the selkies Phil was talking about. They’re the only two other people here after all. Perhaps they can transform to swim. But he’s not sure why they would still be here as people if that was the case. Maybe they’re stuck in other ways, the same as Techno…

Some sort of twisted look must present on Techno’s face, since the others are looking at him imploringly. But he can’t explain even if he wanted to. No way to mime it out or whatever. With nerves and frustration, he shoves some of his hair behind his ears and looks away from their imploring eyes.

It just leaves him to turn to Wilbur, who is also staring at Techno, but with something close to horror instead. Which sure is confusing. Techno tilts his head at the man, raising one of his eyebrows in question.

A yell probably couldn’t make Wilbur turn away as quickly as he does. His elbows knock into the table, making a whole scene and at least drawing the attention off of Techno. Though he’s thoroughly lost.

“Wilbur? You alright?” Phil asks, also seemingly confused.

“Um—” Wilbur gapes, looking halfway to a dead fish. “Uh.”

“What’s been up with you, man? You’ve been weird…” Tommy says, eyes slowly sliding over to Techno.

Which seems unfounded. Techno really has no clue what could be wrong with Wilbur. He’s hardly seen the man. It can’t be his fault, at least in no way that he can think of. Other than just the chance that seeing another selkie could be upsetting, but presumably Tommy is also one, so… Not that.

“Wilbur?” Phil asks again, seemingly more serious.

“I mean, I’m fine, it’s—” Wilbur turns back to Techno, looking at him significantly. It only deepens Techno’s confusion and he shakes his head a little. “Do you not…?”

Techno tilts his head at Wilbur so much that it’s probably close to tumbling off of his neck. Then he even looks at Phil and Tommy too, like maybe they might know something. But seemingly only Wilbur knows what’s happening.

“Dude, you’re being fucking concerning,” Tommy says, leaning back in his chair away from the food he was inhaling a second before. 

“I don’t think I should be telling you two. It’s not really about me, it’s—” Wilbur throws his hands into the air. And vaguely towards Techno.

And then once again everyone is looking at Techno. He wishes he could speak, if only to tell them that he is equally clueless here, if not more so. Instead, he huffs and makes a waving motion in Wilbur’s direction. Honestly he has half a mind to retreat to his room once again, before Phil decides it is just Techno’s fault.

After a moment of silence and very intense eye contact, Wilbur finally says: “We’ve met before.”

Techno wasn’t expecting that. His eyes widen slightly in shock, before tilting his head again. He’s starting to think that the comparisons to stray dogs aren’t going to end any time soon.

“Okay, you don’t remember.” Wilbur turns back around so he’s not facing Techno anymore. Which is all the better in his books.

Perhaps Wilbur was a criminal or someone that did business with the crew. Or maybe another captive being dragged about by someone they worked with? It doesn’t ring any bells in Techno’s mind, but he admittedly wasn’t present much in the past few years.

“Did… something happen?” Phil asks, face equally confused as he tries to catch Wilbur’s eye.

“Did the pink fuck do something?” Tommy says with far less tact and far more implication that this is going to be bad for Techno. 

Oh gods, did he do something? Techno doesn’t think so, but he’s been ordered to do some bad things over the years. Things worse than stealing or acting as bait. And it’s not like those are the most clear memories.

“No, no. Well, not to me, I was just there…” Wilbur grinds his teeth and stares down at his plate very intently. It is dead silent in the room, aside from Techno’s pounding heart. Finally, the pale man takes a deep breath and turns to Techno. “I was the one that saved you from drowning. On the Cecilia Pier a few years ago.”

That… narrows it down. A bit. Or a lot. Techno’s only almost drowned once and well— There was someone, wasn’t there? Techno never really thought about them, but a selkie would make sense. And it’s not like Wilbur would know to lie about that.

Techno hums shortly, turning away from Wilbur’s intense eye contact.

That answers that, he supposes.

“Wait, what?” Tommy asks, making it very obvious that everyone in the room is hearing the conversation. If Techno has the energy, maybe he would flush in embarrassment.

“I didn’t know he was a selkie! I really didn’t, I swear,” Wilbur says the last part to Techno, sounding almost like he’s begging. “I thought you were just some human jumping off a cliff and then other humans came out screaming for you and I thought—”

Oh, he’s guilty. About leaving Techno.

For a second, Techno really thinks about that. If he blames Wilbur, another selkie, for leaving him to the awful fate that awaited him. But then Techno remembers screaming and how the smell of seal blood still haunts him sometimes. All his fault. And the crew was already there, already caught him…

Techno huffs again and shakes his head, just tired. Maybe it would be nice to blame someone else for once, but there’s just no logic to it. And anyway, they’re in the same spot now, aren’t they?

“ …You jumped off of a cliff into the ocean?” Phil asks, seemingly thinking of the big things here. Is he worried about Techno running?

Hesitantly, he nods.

“Uh, why?” Tommy asks, holding a fork in his hand like a knife. 

Techno shrinks slightly in his seat, before pointing vaguely towards the ocean. It’s not exactly an answer, but… It’s kind of all that was in his mind at the time anyway.

“Can you not swim?” Phil asks while staring out at the water.

Techno shakes his head. That’s one thing for sure, his human legs and arms are even more useless in the water as on land. He doubts that’s changed with time.

“Maybe you shouldn’t go down to the beach without one of us until you learn to swim. That would make me feel better,” Phil says with a slightly forced smile.

Techno nods though, not going to argue. He’s not sure he even wants to go again. It’s not like he’d be able to return to himself or his rookery that way anyway. So what’s the point of it?

Slowly, Techno picks up his fork and takes a bite of the fish. There’s no bones in it, but it still feels sharp going down his throat. At least Wilbur seems slightly more relaxed, though no less sending Techno looks.

When they finish eating and Phil takes their plates away, Wilbur stands awkwardly before Techno, slightly blocking the hallway. Tommy very obviously sees it and watches them openly with something like judgement on his face. It’s pretty awkward. Techno turns around and makes eye contact with Tommy from across the room, till the young man turns and leaves.

“Uhm.” Techno turns back to Wilbur. “Did you want to… talk about it?”

Techno gives the man a flat look, pinching his lips together. Wilbur snorts a bit, and then looks guilty. Well, at least he got it without Techno having to actually point at his lips and spell it out.

“Did you want to… go on a walk on the beach? I’ll go with you.”

Oh, that’s sooner than Techno thought he would have to think about this. But now it’s a right now type of thing and Techno doesn’t know— He doesn’t know. Silent for multiple reasons, Techno simply blinks dumbly.

“You don’t have to, but uh. I can make sure you don’t drown? Again?” Wilbur smiles crookedly at that. Though, his eyes look like he’s dying a little inside.

Which is kind of warranted, that was an awful joke. In fact, Techno can do nothing but shut his eyes and press his palm into his face until the disbelief passes. Wilbur’s nervous giggles do not help either.

Though he does think about it, heart racing a bit too quickly. Would walking on the beach be so bad? It’s not like he would get in the water or anything. Not like he even could right now, and probably Wilbur wouldn’t let him. There’s no risk of being overtaken by strange impulses when he’s being watched either.

If Techno’s going to be living here for however long, it’s not like he can avoid the water. Just like he’s been trying to avoid the others in the house, it just doesn’t work in close proximity. The more Techno tried to run from punishments in the past, the worse they would be.

Looking up from his fingers, Techno nods firmly.

“Huh? Oh, going on a walk?” Wilbur asks, making Techno nod again, with an unamused face. “We really need to teach you how to write. Or find a book on sign language or something.”

Honestly it’s been so long since Techno has contemplated communication that his brain just goes blank at that. And then Wilbur is walking off to the front door, bumping elbows with Techno along the way, so there’s no time to even try and start thinking on it. Techno can only be relieved at the distraction.

Wilbur bends over to grab his shoes from the doorway, only to pause.

“Do you not have any shoes?” 

Techno shakes his head. He’s not the biggest fan of shoes, but it does suck when they walk a lot. Or when it’s cold out.

“What the hell, did Phil make you ride horseback with no shoes?” Techno simply tilts his head to the side. “That man…”

Then Wilbur is standing quickly and grabbing Techno’s hand, dragging him off quick enough that he trips. For a second, Techno fears that they’re going to confront Phil. But luckily they bypass the kitchen for the bedrooms. Stopping before Wilbur’s room, presumably.

“I’ve probably got a couple old pairs that will fit. Or, come close anyway,” Wilbur waves Techno into the room as he starts digging through the closet.

The space is darker than most of the house, both because of the curtains and because the furniture and stuff are darker colors. Browns and earthy greens and deep blues. But the room is fully decorated nonetheless. Like a proper place.

Techno feels awkward, stuck in the middle of the floor. It’s not the usual clutter he’s come to be used to existing in where there’s piles of trash and broken items and mess. This is just like someone lives here. Someone with personality and choices.

It’s off putting. Techno hugs his arms close to his chest and stares into the closet instead, listening to Wilbur’s murmuring. What have the selkies here done to earn Phil’s leniency? And why does he give it at all? They seem very close, more than Techno could imagine people being…

His eyes catch onto a tuft of fur sticking out of the back of the closet. For a second he thinks it might be selkie skin, but then he squints and realizes that the fur is far too long and dry. Some other sort of animal. Absently, Techno shivers. He misses his coat.

“Here we go, these were always a bit too small for me,” Wilbur says, pulling out a pair of black shoes and drawing Techno’s attention with them.

They’re a little bit dusty and Wilbur has to pinch away a cobweb, but they seem in well enough shape. Techno crouches to slide them on, finding that they are a bit too big, but they don’t fall off or anything. At least, not till he stands on his toes. Then his heels pop out of the back of the shoe.

“Hm. Would it be bad to ask why you stand like that, or…?” Wilbur trails off, earning a scornful huff from Techno.

It’s not his fault he had to very quickly teach himself to walk on useless legs. Humans are the weird ones for walking all funny anyway. Every other animal walks on four legs, like normal things. Though when he tries to lower his heel back onto the ground, it pulls on the back of his legs so much that it hurts. Maybe his legs are just made weird.

“Okay, shoes with laces then.” Wilbur turns back to the closet.

Techno has half a mind to just tell him to forget it. He doesn’t care that much and it’s not that cold. Instead he just kicks the over sized shoes off and steps closer to the other man. 

Now that he’s actually near the brunette, it’s not that bad. He’s kind of like Tommy, just not quite so energetic and loud. Which is more relieving than anything. Though Techno tries to remain vigilant, because he’s certain that despite Wilbur being a selkie, he seems to be on the good side of Phil. It’s easy to see how that can go for Techno.

Absently he finds himself reaching out towards the fur, running his fingers over it. It’s soft, more than his own skin where it's jammed down in his pockets and dirtied up. And more than his old junky coat.

“Did you find a sweater or something?” Wilbur looks up, holding a singular red shoe for some reason. “Oh, that thing. Kind of a statement piece.”

The way he says it, Techno thinks it’s meant to be a joke. He drops his hands and clutches them together, slightly nervous at being called out. But Wilbur simply tosses the shoe away and grabs the fur thing off of the hanger.

“It’s a little dusty. Maybe I need to dust my closet.” Wilbur shakes out what turns out to be a fur cloak. It’s a soft brown color, and even fluffier now. “You can have it if you want, I think I was having a midlife crisis when I bought it.”

There’s a little bit of distaste in Wilbur’s voice as he hands it over, and his nose is scrunched up too. It doesn’t seem like he’s very fond of it. And it really is dusty so he must not wear it much. Maybe he really won’t mind Techno wearing it.

Tentatively, Techno accepts the cloak. Wilbur lets it go easily, a slanted smile crossing his face, before he turns slightly away. Techno hugs the lump of fur to his chest for a moment, pressing his chin against the softness. It’s warm, and it almost feels right in his arms. 

Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

Either way, Techno slides on the cloak. The weight falls heavily on his shoulders, just on the right side of too much. The little flyaway hairs sticking off of it and tickling his face don’t even bother him. It just makes him shake his head every now and then, chin brushing on the material.

A tickle starts up inside his nose, forcing his eyes shut as he sneezes. For some reason, the high pitched noise makes Wilbur snort.

“How in the hell do I not have any shoes that will work?” Wilbur groans. “How about some boots?”

Techno huffs and shakes his head while shrugging. It’s really not a big deal. Though he’s torn between wanting to stay here and watch Wilbur sort through shoes all evening or run out to the beach right this second. The two options are kind of pulling at him.

“Well, shit. I’ll get Phil to buy you a pair of something proper when he goes to town next,” Wilbur says, running his hand through his hair. Techno simply shrugs again, not caring one way or another. “At least the beach is an appropriate place for no shoes. But the sand is cold as fuck.”

Almost nervously, Techno pets at the bottom edge of the cloak. Even with the fur, his insides feel a little too cold. But he turns to the door anyway.

“Okay then,” Wilbur mutters, seemingly to himself, before leading the way out.

Once again they reach the front door, where Wilbur pauses for a second to call out that they’re leaving, before heading outside. A faint breeze immediately wicks away the warmth of the indoors away from the both of them. Techno’s glad for his borrowed coat.

There’s a small path beside the house, leading downwards to the beach. It stretches out as far as Techno can see, a few rocky patches breaking it up, but mostly sand. Though the water is the main sight anyway. The orange rays of the setting sun have set the entire plain ablaze. Probably, he’d be frozen just looking at it, if he wasn’t following Wilbur on instinct.

“Careful on these steps. They’re weird,” Wilbur says as he steps down a few wooden steps at the bottom of the shallow hill.

Techno holds his hands out a little bit for balance before carefully walking down them. They’re a little rickety, but not terribly so. Yet Wilbur still reaches out to steady his elbow when he gets close enough, like he’s worried about Techno tripping. Well, they have established that Techno is not the best at walking, but still.

When his feet hit the cold sand, an obvious shudder runs through him. It’s not just cold, but it also feels damp.

Wilbur chuckles. “I did warn you.”

In a moment of impulse, Techno sticks his tongue out at the man with an unimpressed look. He had seen the gesture a few times from children, and Tommy too. But it seems more polite than Techno’s original idea to kick sand on Wilbur’s exposed ankles.

“Wow, rude,” Wilbur says, though he doesn’t sound scandalized.

After getting used to the temperature, the sand doesn’t feel too bad. It’s kind of plush. Though when he starts walking, he realizes that it’s much harder to walk on than normal ground. Techno somehow did not figure that out before now.

But even the challenge of that can’t distract Techno forever and he’s forced to look up from the ground. And the waves crashing loudly beside him draws his eyes. This time, when he’s so close, Techno can’t help but stop and stare.

The ocean is objectively calm tonight, waves curling in on themselves before they even hit the shore. It’s churned up white swaths of sea foam, like some of the clouds have fallen out of the sky. Techno swears that half of the noise that he hears is just those bubbles popping. 

When he takes a deep breath, it burns his sinuses in a different way from earlier and the dust. It hurts like salt in a wound. Or maybe like washing the dirt out of a cut till it bleeds bright red.

“Are you okay?” 

Techno jumps, whirling around towards the taller man. Wilbur once again seems to be looking at Techno with something in his eyes. Unpleasant feelings, or memories maybe. Techno gets that, but he still kind of wants to squirm away.

“You know, I really would have helped you if I knew you were a selkie. You looked like a human in the dark, and you couldn’t swim, and sometimes people would jump off the cliffs to, well… I should have—”

Techno shakes his head more roughly, nearly enough to hurt. For some reason the explanation burns him. Even if he’s not upset at the man, can’t feel anything towards the idea except exhaustion. It’s too much.

He curls into the furred cloak as much as he can, imagines it swallowing him up and fitting him right. Right enough to be whole.

“I— Phil had saved me too, a couple years ago. Not from people like you, but someone had stolen my skin before and, well, you know what all that entails.” 

Wilbur turns to face the ocean, which frees Techno from the eye contact. He turns to the ocean too, feeling slightly more distant below the dying light. 

“I’d managed to get my skin and escape eventually, but I was basically trapped along the coast. Phil found me basically by chance.”

If Techno had it in him, perhaps he would feel horror at the story. It does make him sad, feel sick. But the stuff with Phil is just too strange to really approach with the terror it deserves maybe. Wilbur says he saved him, them both considering the ‘too.’ Techno can’t say that things aren’t better than before here, but… He’s tired of the gut gnawing anxiety.

“And I guess I’m kind of lucky. Phil did help me find my rookery. I remembered where they were. But all the selkies were gone and half the seals weren’t even the same. I don’t know if Phil really would have let me stay out there with just those seals, but—” Wilbur shrugs. “I saw sense on my own and left.”

That really gets Techno thinking, back on his rookery. Back on the family that he’s tried so hard to forget until it was too late and they were gone. 

Would any of the selkies be there to recognize him? To help him? And it’s been so long, surely most of the older cows and bulls would have passed. How many of his fellow pups survived to adulthood? How many turned out to be selkies like him? 

Or maybe the attack that stole him away was so bad that they’re all gone completely.

All he can remember when he really really tries is their corpses.

Some sort of broken noise rolls out of Techno’s throat. He’s so shocked by it that he grabs his neck, half expecting the skin to have split open to let something like that out. Nothing like that has left him in a very long time.

Vaguely, he realizes there must have been a command to be quiet at some point that silenced him. And now his commands are gone.

“Hey,” Wilbur says softly, reaching out.

Techno flinches away from the touch, minutely. It forces another sound out of him, somewhat croaky and coo-y and something else. Like a horrid injured animal.

Suddenly, Wilbur jolts away from him and starts walking down the beach. Techno watches, slightly confused, but the jittering noises are still escaping him. He cups a hand over his mouth and grabs his ribs hard.

A bit of liquid drips out of his nose, even though his eyes are still dry, which he rubs away with a grimace. Maybe the dust really is getting to him…

Slowly, Techno lowers himself to the ground. The cold sand pulls the heat out of his body greedily, so he can only hide beneath the fur more. And slowly the ocean gets swallowed into the darkness of night as well, streaked with the horrid silver of the moon.

“Hey!” Wilbur calls as he hurries back over, making Techno blink the burning light out of his eyes as he turns. The man is kneeling down beside him by the time his eyes clear. “Look at this.”

Then Wilbur spreads his arms out, letting a bunch of things fall onto the sand between them. They’re pale and practically shine beneath the moon. Though Techno still has to squint hard to make out what they are.

Wilbur shoves one into his hand, which he holds before his eyes as a breath of understanding leaves him.

“Sea shells. It’s basically just us down here, so loads wash up. Me and Tommy collect them to sell and stuff sometimes.”

It’s a pretty shell, Techno can tell even in the bad light. The sort that spirals into itself and used to have an animal living inside of it. It’s smooth beneath his fingers, washed free of blemishes by the sea.

The shell gets pressed back into the sand.

“I know things probably suck right now, but it’ll get better. Some of them at least. And once it gets warm, we’ll teach you how to swim. And I won’t even let Tommy bully you about it.” Wilbur looks at Techno with a smile. “Too much.”

Techno huffs and shakes his head. But his brow is furrowed as he looks at the ground, flipping all the seashells around so they face up right. He thinks about how they probably used to be far out in the ocean too, miles and miles away. 

But now they’re here. And Techno is here.

He picks up a tiny shell that fits between two fingers, looking at the swirl that makes it up. Then he slides it into his pocket beside his skin. Two things that will never be fully right again.

Or, is it three things? The presence beside him hangs like a heavy, cloaking fog.