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Skizz was positively buzzing with energy.
The Harvest Festival had a knack for bringing that out in him, he’d learned. The liveliness of the streets was infectious—he relished in the way the event drew in folks he seldom had the chance to interact with, how despite the wide variety within Aurecove’s unique cast, they shared an adoration for the festival.
He met Impulse as he rounded the bend leading to the official entrance of the fair, the pennant banners they’d hung earlier that week fluttering in the autumn breeze.
“Aw, the banners are drooping already,” Impulse huffed as he glanced up at the decoration.
Honestly, Skizz hadn’t even noticed the drooping until Impulse had pointed it out, but now that he had, Skizz had no plans on letting him live it down.
He tutted. “Shoddy workmanship hanging those banners,” he said, slanting his best friend a coy smile.
Impulse sputtered and shook his head. “You were the one meant to be keeping me stable so they stayed the same height!” he argued.
“I did a fantastic job of it and I will take no comments saying otherwise,” Skizz replied, pretending to walk away. He didn’t have to turn around to know Impulse rolled his eyes in response before jabbing him in the side with his elbow.
Impulse snickered. “Denial isn’t a pretty look on you, I gotta say—” he started, before he was interrupted by Pearl calling out their names, waving them over.
“You got it, Pearlie Pop!” Skizz called, before returning to his conversation with his buddy. They bickered back and forth, only pausing once Pearl gestured to the woman next to her—a new face in town, his mind recognized—the new lighthouse keeper.
Gem—Gem, yes, her, he knew that—tucked a curl behind her ear as she smiled at him and introduced herself.
The crowd bustled around them as Skizz rocked back and forth on his heels, giddiness evident as she revealed herself to be another mer—a “sailor” she called herself, that one had him laughing—from a city inland who’d moved to Aurecove to be closer to the water.
He beamed; that was close to how he’d wound up here as well, minus the ghost hunting.
What he found slightly odd was her insistence that she "couldn’t swim," although that clearly couldn't be the case. It wasn't hard to chalk that up to a quirky bit and move on, however, pressing her about trying her hand at being the star of the dunk tank. What a show it'd be, right? Everyone in town loved a good mer.
“Aw, she’s trying to get out of it.” Skizz nudged Impulse, a knowing grin on his face. “Come on, Gemstone, it’s just a little water!”
“Really, I can’t swim,” she tried again, prompting Skizz to toss a lighthearted, disbelieving look toward his buddy. She continued, repeating, "I never learned."
“Some things you don’t have to learn," Skizz mused, "you just do them."
His wisened words cut through, a sigh escaping Gem's lips as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "I guess?" she ceded.
Skizz got his hopes up before dramatically deflating as she added—
"But most of the time, no."
"What a way to—y'know, Gemstone, I'm beginning to think you might be a bit of a…" He stuck his elbows out, flapping his arms up and down slowly. Gradually, he raised his volume, clucking and bawking.
Impulse shook his head lightly, chuckling. "Oh my god…"
Gem stared at him for a moment before scoffing out an incredulous laugh. She huffed, "Wha—You're calling me a chicken? Really?"
Skizz snickered, making a show of shrugging. “I’m just calling it as I see it, Gemstone.”
She crossed her arms, making a pointed glance behind her—further in, where the festival games were set up. "If I drown, it's your fault," she made sure to tell him, "but honestly"—a slight smile was forming—"as if you could dunk me if you tried."
That challenge only served to fire Skizz up, tipping his head backwards as he cackled.
"Oh, this is turning into a thing now," Impulse commented. "Good luck, Gem, you're not getting out of this now."
"What? I don't think he could," she maintained. "He couldn't even hold a ladder right."
Skizz was grinning ear to ear. "Gemstone," he laughed, "you're gonna get dunked so hard you won't know what hit you!" He stepped forward then, motioning for her and Impulse to follow. "C'mon, let's see you eat those words!"
In all this energy, it was almost like he blinked and he was there, a softball in hand. Gem's confidence had dissolved now that she was seated precariously above the water, clutching the lip of the glass enclosure as if her life depended on it.
Well, there was only one thing to do, wasn’t there? Skizz grinned, and with a perfect throw, the ball arched toward the target, striking it with a perfect bullseye. Gem squeaked as the platform beneath her gave way, sending her plummeting into the clear tank.
As she did, a soft whooshing sound rang out, accompanied by a few lilting notes from a distant flute and a bell chime. Somewhere, a child giggled. It was all incredibly magical—Skizz knew magic when he saw it.
Before his eyes, a wave of blue sparkles enveloped Gem’s body, and when they cleared, she was left in her mer form, blinking dazedly at her surroundings.
“What—what am I doing here?” she wondered aloud, voice pitched upward with fear.
Skizz tapped on the glass tank playfully. “Aw, don’t tell me you forgot already,” he joked, before noticing the way Gem’s brow furrowed in response. She shook her head, inching as far away from him as she could while confined to the small area.
“How did I get here?” she asked, eyes wide with panic.
Skizz frowned. That reaction seemed genuine—but how could it be?
The answer smacked Skizz in the head a moment later; it was as if someone else’s voice was echoing in his mind, informing him of the knowledge he needed to handle the situation. Mers didn’t retain most memories between forms.
He frowned, briefly—whose voice was that? He couldn’t recall.
Skizz shrugged. He supposed it didn’t matter much, anyway! Armed with this information, he announced to the crowd the best course of action: “Let’s get her out of the water so her memories will come back!”
Impulse raised an eyebrow. “Is that how it works?” he asked.
“You doubting me, Dipple Dop?” he shot back, to which his buddy merely chuckled and shook his head.
“Not at all,” Impulse replied, then addressed the rest of the crowd. “You heard the man, let’s go dry her off!”
Bdubs, suddenly appearing from behind, shouted, “We have towels at Wet Dirt! They come complimentary with a glass of milksog!”
Skizz rubbed his hands together. It was all coming together now, he thought. “To Wet Dirt we go!”
One trip to Wet Dirt and a glass of milksog later, and Gem was back to her land self, nodding along to Pearl’s explanation of mer transformations.
“So, you’re telling me I’m a mer,” Gem stated. “And that I’m just, like, doomed to forget everything when I switch forms, but for some reason, Skizz doesn’t have this problem.”
Telepathically, Tilly replied, “Yep! Crazy world we live in, right?”
“You said it, Tilly,” said Etho, with a nod. Skizz hummed in agreement as he took a swig of his milksog.
From behind the employees only door, Lizzie’s voice rang out, “Joel! I can feel you stealing from the pantry over there!”
“It’s not me—it’s Etho!” Joel hollered.
“I’m not even in the room,” Etho remarked. Skizz snorted into his drink, before looking up again to find that Etho had vanished. He shrugged. That was how Etho normally worked.
Lizzie burst out from the back room, a tray balanced in her arms as she huffed to Bdubs, “I think our husbands are making out in the back room so that means we’re soulmates now.”
Bdubs laughed, “Etho and I aren’t married, but sure!”
Lizzie laid her tray of wonder down on the bartop, gesturing grandly between Bdubs and herself. The blond blobfish jiggled like jello as she did. “We share a bond, you and me,” she declared.
“Of course,” he agreed with a sagely nod.
Pearl perked up seeing Lizzie, asking, "Oh, is that Tilly's order?" She turned quickly to the dog, crouching to her height. "Look, Tilly! Dinner!"
As the two departed for their food, Skizz caught sight of Gem once more, staring into the middle distance as if in deep thought.
"Earth to Gemstone," he tried, waving a hand in front of her face. "Are you that messed up about the mer thing? You don't have to be—I'm a mer too, remember?"
She blinked at him. "No, I—I'm just thinking, I have to tell Grian about this." Skizz tilted his head curiously.
That name… that name rang a bell.
“That’s Scar’s missing fiancé!” the blond blobfish chirped.
Joel smacked it, huffing, “Shut up Jimmy, you’re dead.”
“Am I really dead?” The blond blobfish jiggled, half of its body sagging out of Tilly’s mouth, flesh flopping about like a half-full water balloon. “Are you certain?”
“Where’s Tango when you need him?” Etho chuckled, leaning back in his seat. Had the booth cushions always had smiling fishes printed on them? Skizz shrugged. Maybe they were new.
Across the room, Gem stood, dusting off her hands and tilting her chin up, determination glinting in her eyes.
Skizz glanced over in time to see Gem fling open the café door, exclaiming, “I’m going to find Grian!” She marched out confidently, Skizz and everyone else trailing after her.
Planks creaked underfoot as they made their way across the boardwalk, approaching the coastline. The blazing sun peeked out from behind a towering carnival ride in the distance, making Skizz squint to see Gem crouching down by the water.
A familiar sandy blond mer poked his head out from beneath the waves as she began speaking, gesturing animatedly as she recounted her mer transformation story. The two shared laughs, sparking a slight swell of pride in Skizz's chest, hoping he was the reason for a few of those, given his major role.
At a good lull point, Skizz interjected. "G, don't ya know that Scar's been lookin' for you? Gem's up here on land, why don't you join us, huh, buddy?"
"As if," Grian returned, exhaling a short laugh. "I'd like my memories intact, thank you very much."
"I mean, I'm sure there's some way to get that working for you—I've heard a thing or two about not losing your memories," claimed Skizz. "I don't lose mine, so there's obviously something there."
"He's not wrong," Gem added thoughtfully as she watched her friend narrow his eyes, suspicious.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Grian pointed out.
“Life rarely follows any rhyme nor reason,” Scar replied, descending from above in a flying boat, a figurehead of a winged cat attached to the bow of the ship. He swung from a rope attached to the mast and landed on the boardwalk in front of Grian, dipping into a bow.
“Wise words,” Bdubs concurred, nodding.
Scar beamed. “I read it on a fortune cookie!” He turned to address Grian, a warm smile gracing his face as he extended a hand to the mer. “Come with me and I’ll make your dream come true.”
Grian raised an eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume you know my dream,” he commented.
“‘A dream is a wish your heart makes,’” Scar quoted in response.
“I think the fortune cookie one was better,” Tilly whispered telepathically, her words somehow still muffled by the blond blobfish.
Grian sighed and rolled his eyes, but there was a mirthful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He reached out and grasped Scar’s hand in his own.
Scar scooped his fiancé into his arms, whooping as he swung back up onto the boat. The wind whipped through, making the sails billow, conveniently blocking everyone’s view as Grian shifted back to his land form in Scar’s arms.
Haloed in pink and golden light, the two of them rode off into the sunset, disappearing over the horizon line to live happily ever after.
“All in a day’s work,” Skizz sighed.
“Oh no, the blond blobfish is gone,” Impulse pointed out, making Skizz glance back over.
The blobfish was indeed gone, and Tilly was left wearing a disappointed expression. “Aw,” Pearl said, furrowing her brow, “where could he have gone?”
Skizz straightened, the answer popping into his mind. He knew this one!
“It’s one of life’s greatest mysteries,” he prefaced it, “but the answer is—”
Skizz awoke to a frantic knocking on his door. His dream forgotten, he groaned, rolling over in his bed to squint at the alarm clock on his desk. With the morning light filtering through his sheer blue curtains, he was able to read the time without much issue—though, being able to read the time hardly meant he knew why he was being woken up now.
“Who’s knockin’ at eight A.M. on a weekend?” he muttered, pulling himself to his feet and starting toward the door. In this, he nearly tripped over his new magnetic 2023 calendar, having fallen from the wall overnight. It had to be the third or fourth time he’d found it like this, he tutted to himself—they just didn’t make them like they used to.
Upon opening the door, he was greeted by an anxious-seeming Tango, hair flame licking the top of his door frame as he fidgeted with his hands. Behind him, Skizz glimpsed a trail of singed grass, air cloudy with smoke. Skizz raised an eyebrow at him. “Hey buddy, what’s going on?”
Tango shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he replied, “My partner just got out of the water and lost all his memories, and, well, you’re the expert on that kinda thing, so…”
Skizz straightened up, puffing out his chest. “Heck yeah, I’m the expert on it!” he exclaimed, sleep-weariness draining from his body as he clapped a reassuring hand to Tango’s back. The work of Skizz Leman never ended, he supposed, but he was always up for the challenge.