Chapter Text
Prologue: An elegy on quartzite memories
“Sister… Were the waves always… so red?”
The figure slumped by the metal railing, his paled hands straining as he heaved themselves closer to the edge of the ship – closer to his release. A jagged wound cut raggedly through his left – handiwork of the smashed glass bottle that rolled with the rocking waves near the body behind him. As he pulled themselves across the hardened floor, his emerald tail twitched in agony as the sting of pain sunk deeper with each shallow breath.
The world swirled around him as the brunt of the storm worsened; his hand clutched onto his wound as he struggled to push himself further. The allure of the sea beckoned to him – the waves pummelling against the hull in a murmured rhythm akin to the warbled lullabies that haunted his kindest dreams. And yet, though the vast expanse of murky water was more familiar than the cramped fish tank he was formerly stuffed within, he could not will himself into falling back into its impassive embrace.
The ocean was home; it was his home – how could it not be? In the dredges of his memories, he could still hear his sister’s hushed words as she recounted how hard their family had struggled to fend for their home. And yet – the undercurrent that surged below him welcomed him as warmly as the stale water he had fought so hard to escape. The home he so desperately wished to return to, the home where he had lived in some semblance of peace with his sister, where was it? Does it even exist anymore?
And his sister, if he begged with all his cursed luck, would she still be waiting there?
The storm picked up once more, a few enraged shouts having begun to circle closer to him now that the wind could no longer mask the stench of blood - an alarm that he could not afford to ignore. The mer looked back at the cruise quickly, the yells bringing him back to his dismal reality as his hands tightened around the railing once more.
“The rain…”
His ringed magenta-cyan eyes flickered upwards against the worsening torrent of rain. Looking up at the clouded sky, his gaze narrowed slightly – the lashes of wind on his face too similar to the darkened scars of whips that curled around his back. As the icy, crimson-stained raindrops snaked down his body and along the deck of the ship, he could not help but flinch at the cold relief of water along his face - a once pleasant touch now a sore memory of what no longer was.
The mer whispered quietly – pain and confusion murmuring in his soft voice as he finally fell through the ship’s bars and into the ravages of the stormy ocean.
“Were our blessing always so cold, sister?”