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By the time Edwin Payne turned twenty two, he had spent much more time on land than he had in the sea. While he loved his upbringing in the coastal waters off of Scotland and Ireland, it hadn’t been a surprise to anyone in his family that he chose to go ashore. From the moment Edwin had discovered books, the sea could hold no allure. The Great War had limited Edwin’s wanderings for a time, but now that it was over, he was free to explore the world from the comfort of a ship. A ship that could cut through the waves with the ease of a great whale and allowed Edwin to read warm and dry on the deck with the scent of the sea all about him.
He was exploring the Grecian islands on a small sailboat when he saw the flicker of red scales disappear beneath the prow. The sailboat was not new, but recently purchased second-hand from a local collector who had traded it in exchange for the abundance of trinkets Edwin could easily retrieve from the shallow sea bed. The collector fancied the antiquities and coveted that which was easily found beneath the water. He had offered two deck hands to sail the boat as well. But Edwin had politely declined. The boat was small enough to sail alone (a skill that Edwin had eagerly acquired early on in his travels) and Edwin didn’t plan on going far out to sea. At least not by boat. Furthermore, Edwin valued his privacy. Valued the ability to slip out of his human clothes and into his selkie skin before diving overboard.
Edwin still loved the sea. It was a part of him, etched into his bones and flowing through him like blood. But he loved the land too. He loved the books, packed full of knowledge he would never know any other way, full of stories told by people far away. He loved the Victrolas that warbled out music recorded elsewhere. He loved the sun on his skin and the way his fingers could just as easily turn a delicate page or haul a heavy rope.
Crete was lovely, full of old things nearly forgotten by the land folk. Edwin suspected that the creatures beneath the waves might have some kind of trail of stories he could follow for more information. So early one morning, Edwin dropped his anchor in a sheltered cove and removed his clothes. He quite like human clothes. The shirts with their fiddly little buttons, the waistcoats that could be any color Edwin liked and the sturdy boots that protected his feet. The bracers were particular favorites as were the fashionable straw hat he’d picked up in the South of France. He folded it all neatly and put it in his trunk before pulling out his skin and falling into the familiar shape.
The warm kiss of the Mediterranean Sea had him swimming in little flips, just enjoying the feeling. Then he opened his eyes and saw the creature that had been hiding in the shadow of his boat.
His mother called them murúch, creatures that were humans from the waist up and fish from the waist down. But this one was unlike any he had ever seen. Back home, the murúch were sickly pale beings that looked like the drowned corpses that floated off shipwrecks sometimes. They wore their hair long and it floated out around them like seaweed. When they spoke, it usually came out in riddles or eerie songs.
This boy–for it was definitely a boy, or young man, like Edwin himself–looked nothing like that. His hair was cropped short, like the boys on land, though not styled at all, left to bounce up from his head in brown curls. His bare skin was a warm, sun-kissed brown all over and his tail…
The murúch swam closer, the bright red tail working powerfully in the clear, azure water. The scales were ruby red with darker fins jutting out, highlighting the beauty and power of the tail.
“You’re a seal!” he exclaimed, swimming around Edwin in three excited little circles. “I thought you were a man!”
The merman communicated in the universal language of the sea but with an unmistakable accent that reminded Edwin of home.
“I’m both,” Edwin answered a bit indignantly. “I’m a selkie.”
“Brills,” the other boy said aloud, in English. The word was absolutely garbled by the saltwater and a stream of bubbles that escaped up toward the surface.
After a spurt of shared laughter, the two swam up to Edwin’s boat.
Edwin was a bit self conscious as he hoisted himself up onto the deck. This part was always a bit inelegant. He had to get his seal body up out of the water enough that the skin wouldn’t slip back into the water without him in it. Then he had to extract himself. He’d seen it done in ways that made men’s mouths water, especially by the older females in his pod. Edwin had yet to master that kind of transition. It always seemed to involve a lot more flopping around than it ought to.
By the time he’d managed to extract himself from his seal skin and put on his trousers, the merman had also hauled himself up onto deck. He lounged there easily, his long red tail swishing slightly back and forth across the deck, his torso leaned on one muscular arm. Only his upper arm and elbow were actually on the deck, his hand was angled up to support his head. Seawater from his curls dripped down his forearm.
Edwin swallowed hard.
“You know English?” Edwin asked, unsure how else to broach a conversation.
“My dad’s an Englishman,” the boy said easily. “My mum’s from the seas near Sri Lanka.”
Edwin paused, in the middle of pulling on an undershirt.
“Your parents aren’t both mer-people?” he asked.
“Nope, just my mum,” the other boy said easily, grinning widely. “Give me long enough to dry out and I’ll have legs too.”
“Fascinating,” Edwin said, drawing up his bracers and sitting cross-legged near the merman.
“So’re you,” the merman said easily. “I’ve never met a seal-boy before. I’m Charles, by the way.”
Charles sat up and offered a hand to shake.
“Edwin,” Edwin replied, taking the hand and stamping down hard on the flutter of attraction low in his belly. “And I already told you, I’m a selkie.”
Charles just smiled another one of his charming smiles.
“I don’t suppose you’d let me show you around Crete, Edwin?” he asked
When Edwin left the Grecian isles in the Spring, the boat was a lot fuller than when he’d arrived. There were another man’s clothes beside his in the trunks and another set of hands knowledgeable in the ropes of this little vessel. Another body beside his when they dove into the water and lay in the cramped cabin bed.
Edwin had a strip of cord where one of Charles’ shedded scales was threaded. Charles had one with a golden pearl Edwin had found on a dive.
Charles wrapped his arms around Edwin’s waist as he stood at the helm, steering the ship toward Italy.
“Ready?” Edwin asked, tilting his head to the side and receiving an obliging kiss to his neck.
“Always,” Charles promised.