Chapter Text
The backs of the waves glisten with silver, frothing into white lace as they tumble over themselves and against the sand, which crunches softly under her bare toes. The water beckons her, pulls at her feet, making soft, calming shhhh noises. She is alone.
She inhales the salty scent of the ocean, lets it flow through her and fill her lungs, fill her. Her hair whips around her head, wild and free.
The smooth curve of beach is interrupted by a dark shape. Katara falters, suspicious, curious. Then she runs.
It is a man. Sideways in the sand, curled into a kind of fetal position. The lower half of his body is that of a fish. Katara's heart leaps into her throat. A merman.
A stab of fear. Merpeople were evil. They lured sailors into their watery clutches, beguiling them with siren songs and their sinister beauty. They called up storms to wrack the port towns, flood the fields, and swallow swimming children. They lived among the sea-beasts, enticing them to rage against fishermens’ boats, biting through nets and lines. Children weren't allowed out of sight when on the beach, and boats always had a cache of arrows and harpoons. Dangerous creatures, merpeople.
Her initial terror subsides into bemusement. This man is no threat to her. In fact, she doesn't know if he's even alive. Glancing around, furtively, she squats down beside him and observes.
He is young. His skin and hair, still strangely wet, gleam mercurial. His face is strong and sharp, marred only by what appears to be a... burn scar... over the left half of his face. Katara grimaces. It probably came from human hands, that scar. Katara notices that his gills are moving gently.
Katara jumps back, cautious. Merpeople had adapted a strange breathing system that worked both above and below water. Submerged, they worked like any fish's gills, pumping seawater through them to collect oxygen. Above water, it seemed they filled their gills with enough water to be able to breathe a while, and it was assumed that their strange skin also allowed them to absorb oxygen from the air as well. Like a frog's, thought Katara. But frogskin has to remain wet.
An idea took root in her mind. Ridiculous, she tells herself. I should leave him here to die.
Save him, whispers her heart.
"Hey," she croaks, awkwardly. She pokes him on the shoulder, wary lest he leap up and bite her with his needle-teeth. His entire body shivers at the touch. "Uh... merman. Do you need help?" She goggles at the strangeness of the situation.
The merman winces, his gills flaring. Katara scrambles back as he gathers himself, pushes himself up, visible strain shuddering through his muscles. His eyes meet Katara's and they are gold.
It is such a shock after the silver of night that Katara forgets to breathe. No one told her merpeople had eyes like that.
The merman bares his teeth at her and hisses, weakly. His teeth look like hers. Katara is relieved. "You stop that," she tells him sternly, grasping at the strands of her courage. He is weak and out of his element, literally. "I asked you a question."
The merman's eyes flash with anger, irritation, before shifting to surprise. He looks momentarily like a confused puppy, and Katara has to bite back a smile. He then decides to ignore her, his eyes strain towards the sea, and his body follows. As his fish-tail bends, he gives out a noise of pain. Katara takes a closer look and sees that the tail fin is in shreds. Her feet smart at the sight. He appears enraged at the sight of himself, and clenches his fist.
"That doesn't look good," Katara comments.
"How perceptive," the merman spits out, glaring. There is anger and distrust and pain and arrogance in his voice. Affronted, Katara gets up, brushing her legs off matter-of-factly.
"I assume you don't want my help, then," she replies coolly. She spins and starts to leave.
"Wait." She turns and sees the merman hunched over, seemingly mulling over his options. Then his head turns to look at her. Katara can't get used to his eyes, their angry gold. "You’re just a human," he continues, possibly to himself. Katara seethes. "I'll die if I stay here, and I'll die if I go back. What can you do?" He asks it scathingly, not expecting any helpful response.
"Well," Katara muses. "We could always put you in the bathtub."