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There was always music in his ears: from the very beginning to the present second, there was music. Sometimes, it was through his headphones as they blocked out the noise and flooded his mind with something he’d rather listen to. Other times, it was through live performances as he moved his head along with melodies that rang true from fingertips and vocal cords, coaxing him to prance along.
(He never did that in public, but he imagined it in his head, safe from the judgmental eyes and minds of the world.)
Sometimes, the music radiated not from a speaker or from others, but instead directly from himself. It was a hobby, nothing more. At least, that’s what he told others. That was what he told the person whom he loved, although it was getting harder and harder to convince himself of that lately.
But the music was a hobby that brought him enough joy to allow him to forget the woes of his days. Forget the woes of his lover. Forget the choices that slowly isolated him from people he used to spend time with until he was barely treading water. Until he was swimming endlessly towards a lighthouse that never provided enough respite and would immediately throw him back into that dark, cold ocean once daylight peaked around the corner.
Music was his lifeline, and he clung to it until his fingers bled and his voice was hoarse.
However, despite the waters in his mind threatening to pull him under, the ocean was also a place of comfort. His favorite place was the aquarium, a place he would always suggest for dates if he could convince his lover (the answer had been yes the first time, though it had slowly moved into a “maybe next time” to an immediate “no”). There was something about the creatures that lived there, how they swam and drifted like a dance, that drew him closer to them. On the days where he was flooded and that lighthouse threatened to shut the light off, the ocean’s depths were always there for him, waiting for him to jump in.
Sometimes, he considered it.
So when a haunting tune echoed from the ocean late at night as he nursed injuries in an empty flat (there was still glass on the floor as well as a nasty cut that barely missed his eye; he hoped it wouldn’t need stitches), he followed it. It wordlessly crooned with undertones of saltwater and promises that wouldn’t be broken, coaxing him towards the foamy shores of the beach with whispers of memories he swore weren’t real.
The tune wrapped around his legs and snagged his heart on a hook, tugging him across cold sand and into colder waters. It drew the air out of his lungs and replaced it with water, the open wounds stinging as the saltwater irritated them.
But something akin to a hand caressed his face and somehow he knew. He knew it would be okay as his mind emptied of every thought except to relax and submit. Even when his lungs screamed for gaseous oxygen and something clawed into the cuts on his face with curious, inhuman brutality, it would be okay.
Nothing could hurt more than the way that he was treated before. Nothing could hurt more than the slow realization that a good portion of it was his own fault, that he had personally blindfolded himself with the multitudes of red flags that others had pointed out to him.
But right now, all that pain slowly drifted away into nothingness as darkness overtook his vision and cold water enveloped him like a swaddle. He wondered if this was what death was like: not sudden and sharp and unkind, but instead quiet and soothing. He wondered if death brushed his hair out of his eyes and whispered that he did all he could to survive. He wondered if death would forgive him for what he did.
Vessel. Awaken.
Then, Vessel heard voices. Familiar voices. Hypnotic yet mellow, crashing over each other like waves over pebbles in a chorus. It’s him. He’s here. Grab the others. Tell them to stop yelling at Sleep. Call them over now. Don’t reveal it all just yet. Hey, no giggling!
More voices, all of them tugging on the edges of Vessel’s mind with how close they were. But that feeling shushed him and said not yet, you’re not ready yet.
He’s not ready… for what?
“Oh, thank Sleep —!” Someone collided into Vessel’s chest, forcing some air out of his lungs. He heard clicks that sounded like a giggle and a head pressed against his sternum. “He’s alive! He’s okay!”
“Thank fuck.” Someone else exhaled against his neck, causing him to squirm from the ticklish sensation and eliciting a laugh that he felt against his side. “You’re here.”
A third presence made itself known not by announcing itself, but by softly cupping Vessel’s face in his physical hands. Thumbs, rounded suckers, and a thin membranous skin brushed against his face and coaxed his eyes open. His vision flooded with light, more light than he remembered. He shied away for a moment before slowly bringing his hands up to his face. One, two… there were more eyelids them he remembered having.
Shame was the first emotion that flooded his body, and he tried to wriggle out of the grasps of the other two. His mind told him there were others quietly watching. He had to leave.
“There you are,” said the one who held his face. Hands connected to a dark humanoid torso that shimmered in colors that Vessel wished to tattoo onto his retinas. He might’ve right at that moment if his eyes didn’t drift downwards and catch eight limbs… arms? Whatever, he didn’t care. He didn’t want to leave so soon anymore (the reason he couldn’t parse out, but something buried hummed with familiarity). “You’re lovely.”
“What a shape he was changed into,” a nearby female voice murmured.
“I like his patterns,” a second female voice joined in. “You can tell that Sleep enjoyed the process of changing him.”
“Maybe a little too much. See?” A third, this time appearing upside down just over Vessel’s head and poking at his face with a delicate finger. She glowed with soft bioluminescent as jelly-like appendages waved around her arms. “Six eyes, as the god usually depicts itself as.”
“Egotistic much?” asked the one who had his face buried in his neck. He swam around Vessel now, his long tail lovely shades of red. Merfolk… he was surrounded by merfolk, how could he forget such marvelous creatures?
“Who?” His throat was sore and forming words felt like a chore as his vocal chords tried and failed to vibrate in a way that didn’t irritate themselves. Something in his mind clicked, and a chirp escaped him. “Who are you?”
“You don’t…?” The one who had crashed into him first looked at him with a gaze that made Vessel want to rip his heart out. Anything to make him happy again. “You don’t remember us?”
Vessel wanted to. Deeply. But something wouldn’t let him. Not yet. He couldn’t remember the last time he made a friend without something going horribly wrong in the end, resulting in the two of them never talking in the way that they used to. But something deep in his bones, in his newfound tail that he panicked over before several voices quietly calmed him down, encouraged him to reach out to these merfolk.
“Can– Can I try again?”
He was met with a resounding “yes”.
A long time ago, Vessel found a hidden cave away from the main beach. The way to his secret grotto was covered with an overgrowth of thorny plants that scratched at any and all exposed skin, leaving thin red marks in their wake. Additionally, the path was less of a path and more of a gravel-sand mix that occurred at such an angle that he called it a “slide”; it caused him trouble when he tried to enter and exit first few times, so he hoped that skinning his knees and palms back then was enough of a blood sacrifice to appease the luck gods.
Additionally, the grotto was formed in such a way that he could only enter during low tide, as high tide resulted in the narrow path out to be covered in water, and he didn’t want to risk exploring any underwater exits with how violent the ocean can get. He wasn’t a fan of bashing his head open on a rock below the surface.
Not yet, anyways.
Still, what the grotto had that Vessel adored was the way that the ceiling opened up to produce spectacular reverb alongside the private view that he had to the ocean. Waves swelled up the rock’s edge and hit him with just enough salty spray to make him comfortable. It was his little space to get away from the woes of land life. From the woes of his lover, whom he still felt the sharp stings of teeth and claws on his skin. Sometimes, he wondered if he loved the other more than his lover did himself.
Then, the ghost of his lover’s sweet words paired with soft fingertips padding his skin (always avoiding the scars, always joined with a sneer that wasn’t subtle anymore) would shake his thoughts and make him doubt it. He was loved by his partner… right? It was there in the beginning, but now?
Vessel shook his head and swallowed down the thickening spit that was threatening to lure out tears. He was too deep into this. He pulled out his notebook with lyrics, notes, and doodles scribbled in the pages, some of the ink smudged onto the opposite page along with fingerprints. It was a shame that he couldn’t bring any equipment down here to record. He considered hauling along at least an acoustic guitar a few times, but those were paired with a rough time heading into the grotto. He couldn’t afford to bang up an instrument.
As he started to wordlessly hum some tunes from his head, he paused and repeated the phrases every so then so he could transcribe of their intonations and scribble down some musical notes. “I won't break and bend to my basic need to be loved and close to somebody,” he murmured underneath his breath. His hand threatened to roughly scribble that lyric out — it was too personal, too close, too true — but he kept it.
He shut the notebook and looked up at the rocky ceiling of the grotto. Basic need, what even was that anymore? “What a fool,” Vessel muttered. He sharply inhaled and moved his mind away from his lyrics to the lyrics of a different song. The words started to flow out of his mouth, slowly and more melancholic compared to the original recording. He loved the first version, but he didn’t have the energy to follow through with it right now.
It was around halfway through did Vessel realize that something — no, someone — had joined him. He paused and listened. There! Another voice that faltered just after his abrupt pause. But there was no one around him; his patch of dry land was flat and couldn’t hide anyone, and the rocky exit into open waters bore no signs of someone nearby on a boat. “Hello?” he called. “Anyone there?”
Only the ocean’s waves answered him.
Vessel gave another quick look over of his surroundings. His stomach churned at the possibility of his secret hideaway being discovered by someone. The only place where he could be himself away from the prying eyes of others. But… something in his mind begged for him to sing again. Harmonize with the apparition of an echo in the grotto.
So, he opened his mouth and sang once again.
And this time, he could hear the voice — the voices; three of them, all feminine-sounding and higher than his own, all blending together in perfect three-part harmony with his melody — loud and clear. They resonated beautifully in the cave, enticing Vessel to move closer towards the water to figure out who was singing along with him.
Something in the back of his head whispered for him to dive in. Something that didn’t care whether he lived or not begged him to throw all caution to the wind and let the turbulent waves swallow him whole.
Come. Come to me. You know you want to.
It sang in a multitude of sunken voices. Drowned anguished cries. Darkness at the edges of his vision.
Vessel yearned to listen to it.
Something cold, wet, and strong gripped Vessel’s wrist, just over the freshest scars. He hissed and that crooning feeling disappeared. His eyes focused once again and fell on what was holding onto him, breath stuttering to a stop for a moment before he forced his brain to work once again to decipher what he was looking at.
He thought it was a human in a dark wetsuit. But upon further investigation, he realized that dark color was the creature’s skin. The hand that gripped him slowly peeled away, revealing callouses and small suction cups on the fingertips. A dark mask covered the creature’s face, lines of red scratched across and indented gold beneath the eyeholes. Eyes peered at him, intelligent and waiting for his next move.
“You were going to fall in,” said the creature in a masculine voice. He moved deeper into the water until only the top half of his face was showing, his gaze never leaving Vessel’s own.
Vessel forced his voice to work. “What?”
The creature raised his head above the water and replied, “The water. You were hypnotized.”
“I was?”
A loud splash brought Vessel’s attention to a sudden flash of red appearing next to the first creature. This one had bright red hair and a similar dark skin that tapered to red at the hands and eyes. Translucent fins were visible on the back and near the elbows. A gold and black mask covered the newcomer’s face, the metallic sheen reflecting against the sun and highlighting sharp eyes that screamed of mischief. “You were!” he chirped in. “We’ve seen humans get lured into the water before —”
“Not our doing.”
“Not by us, but we have seen humans get lured.”
“Uh-huh.” Vessel felt like his brain was about to melt into nothingness. Maybe there was a gas leak in his secret grotto… yeah, that would explain why he was hearing and seeing things.
Vessel started to back up, maybe stumble back to where he came from, when a third creature revealed himself. He silently reached up towards Vessel and tilted his head, his eyes youthful and filled with some sort of yearning that Vessel knew a little too well. He saw it in himself, after all. Yearning for affection, for understanding. Yearning to be seen yet to hide all the same. This creature had had a similar mask to the creature with red, only the gold and black were reversed. When he reached up towards him, Vessel could see a pair of small indents on the palms of his hands. “Don’t go yet,” he pleaded.
Vessel didn’t force himself to stay. On the contrary, he wanted to stay. Despite alarm bells ringing in his head about this situation — run, it’s not safe, they could pull you under, leave and never come back, retreat inland — he slowly crawled forwards and swallowed down any questions that threatened to escape his mouth.
“Aw,” the red one cooed, causing Vessel’s face to violently heat up. “He’s more shy up close.”
“Don’t patronize him.” The one who first grabbed Vessel hit the red one on the arm, much to his displeasure.
“You act like you hadn’t swam face-first into a school of fish daydreaming about him.”
Vessel coughed to hide a snort of a laugh, only to end up choking on his spit and coughing for real when three more of the creatures emerged from the waters. They seemed to be of a similar species, if the identical masks on their faces were any indicator. Gold filigree swirled over their eyes and left their mouths exposed while they subtly glowed in the dim grotto. Jelly-like appendages on their arms became victim to gravity as one of them approached Vessel and gestured for him to come closer. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to pull you in,” she laughed when he hesitated. “Don’t mind the boys,” she whispered. “They’re a bit smitten by you.”
“Nia!” exclaimed the red one. “I heard that!”
“I’m not lying III! Lover boy here deserves to know.”
“Luv, I thought we agreed to not tell him,” one of the other golden filigree masked beings tutted.
“Patricia, I think we also agreed to not sing along with him, but Estrella fell victim to that.”
“He has a voice fit for a siren,” the one whom Vessel assumed was Estrella argued. “It’s not every day that merfolk are the ones lured by a pretty voice instead of a human.”
Vessel could only sit there and watch in silent revere as what he could only assume were merfolk dissolved from a language he could understand to clicks and whistles. He felt like he was at an aquarium, only he was the exhibit being admired by the onlookers. It was… odd to say the least. He wondered if any of the fauna in the aquariums he loved visiting had judged him like this. He started to shuffle away, only for one of the merfolk to turn their attention towards him and gasp, “Wait!”
He froze.
“I think we’re scaring him.”
“This is why I suggested we approach him one at a time.”
“Listen, our bets never go according to plan. Last time I remember we had a three-way tie.”
“Which is why I was about to recommend that we had another bet. But someone decided to be a siren.”
“Easy there octy-pod. Are you going to blame our god for trying to keep up a myth?”
“I would, Nia. I would.”
“II, if you try to underhandedly insult Sleep like that again, I’ll bet that you’ll wake up a squid instead.”
“Patricia, are we trying to stop the argument, or…?”
“How about we let the ladies do their thing IV? I, on the other hand —!”
Vessel yelped in surprise when the red merfolk pulled himself further onto the elevated patch of dry land. From this angle, he could better visualize the lack of a distinct half; instead, the merfolk was simply one whole creature. Perhaps he was still disillusioned by childhood movies. The translucent fin that he could only see glimpses of in the water was now fully on display. It was small in height and traced the merfolk’s spine starting around the shoulders until the end of his tail.
“I think he likes what he sees,” the merfolk laughed. He sharply tilted his head and let out a series of quick clicks towards the rest who waited in the water. “He’s not running away like– Sleep’s sirens!”
This time, it was Vessel’s turn to laugh, albeit softly. “Sorry, sorry. I, erm, just wanted to– I didn’t mean to startle you.” He started to put some distance between the two of them again, but a hand reached out to grab his shoulder.
“I am asking you to stay here. Look, I’ll dip if it’ll make you comfortable. Everything’s heavier up here anyways.”
“Name!” Vessel recoiled when the red merfolk turned his head and nailed him to the spot with nothing but a sharp gaze. He lowered his voice and repeated, “Your name?”
“It’s not easy for you to pronounce,” he said as he fell back into the water. “Limited vocal chords and understanding and all.”
“But, I heard —?”
“Those aren’t our true names either,” replied one of the other merfolk. “It’s a bit confusing for your kind, seeing how you mostly have one name. We have multiple. Like, I’m IV.”
“IV.”
“Yeah. The dramatic one is III, and the one that shook you out of our god’s trance is II.” IV leaned against III’s shoulder and let out a soft hum. “Then we have the Espera. Estrella, Patricia, and Nia.”
“Huh.” Vessel opened his mouth to share his own name, then paused. “Call me Vessel. It’s from a joke I made with someone a while ago. It was something like ‘My body is not a temple. It’s a vessel. For soup.’” He laughed to himself then scrambled to explain the name further when he saw confused looks. “Uh, soup is a type of food. You take water, and some salt and other seasonings. Add some vegetables, maybe some meat. You boil it and you eat it.”
“The ocean is a soup,” II sagely said.
The laugh that reverberated across the grotto walls was the most joy that Vessel had felt in years.
“No no, wait —“ Vessel held up a hand as he tried to catch his breath. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his jacket and deeply inhaled, doing his best to avoid looking at the eel and stingray merfolk. “You said that III and IV tried to fight each other and —”
“We ended up having to drag them to Sleep’s temple to ask for extra healing because electric shocks plus venom are unpleasant to deal with. And, I wanted to see if we could pray some sense into them.” II pushed III off of him when he tried to dunk him underwater.
“You said you wouldn’t tell him that!”
“That was before you excessively acted out last night,” II spat back. “Get off me, you brat.”
“Oh, you still love me.”
“You test my patience every day.”
“So,” Vessel turned towards IV, who preened at the attention, “what sort of god is Sleep? You mentioned it being an ocean god, and rather elusive as well, but you act familiar with it.”
IV dipped a little deeper into the water for a moment, eyes averting from Vessel’s own. “Sleep is,” he said as he emerged to speak once again, “an interesting god. It’s not malevolent, but it’s not benevolent either. It just… is.”
“II seems… wary of Sleep.”
“I have my reasons to keep a healthy distance,” II piped up. “I’d rather put my faith in something that’s more physical and reliable than a metaphysical god.”
“Uh-huh, and who was the one that I overheard praying for the pretty human — might I add, who’s spending time with us right now — to one day pay attention to him?” III goaded.
“A moment of weakness.” Nonetheless, II reached for Vessel’s hand and murmured something that sounded like “Warm” when he nuzzled into the palm.
Vessel tried to keep his heart strictly locked inside his ribcage. It’s already gotten him into trouble before. However, the organ refused to listen, instead entering a blood sport with his brain. He internally groaned and tried to turn his attention towards the three merfolk whom he felt more comfortable sharing bits and pieces of his life more than his partner (and that was another thing: when had he started using the term “partner” over “lover”?) ever could bear listening to him nowadays.
“Does Sleep listen to everything you do and say?” Vessel asked, directing the question to no one in particular but the ocean waves. “Is it omnipresent? Omniscient?” He gently tugged his hand out of II’s grasp, trying and failing to ignore the sad chirp that the octopus merfolk gave him, and pulled his jacket sleeves over his hands. “Does it know you visit me?”
“Sleep knows a lot of things. Maybe it knows about our little rendezvous and it just isn’t letting us know,” III replied, his voice still energetic with a dash of disinterest, but all of that seemed carefully controlled as he twisted some hair around the tip of a finger, just above the webbing. “I heard that Sleep grants wishes, but I wouldn’t count on that. I once wished for an easy day hunting for food, and you know what happened? Nothing.”
“That’s because it knows that you enjoy a good hunt,” IV tutted as he leaned against III’s shoulder. “If you just floated around all day, you’d get bored and bother us.”
Vessel let himself choke on his words for a while. It’s almost second nature how he does that. He found himself hating how instinctual it was to doubt his own words, even with those he found himself comfortable around. “Does Sleep listen to humans? Or just, you know, you?”
“Vessel, do not try to talk with Sleep,” II insisted. “It’s a temperamental god that will not hesitate to drag humans into the depths if it thinks it is right. It almost did so with you the first time we officially met.”
That crooning, gentle voice was back in the depths of Vessel’s mind for a breath. Calling for him to leave his land life and fall into the ocean. You know you want to. He tightly squeezed his eyes shut and sharply exhaled. “Sorry. Sorry, I just wish that —”
A harsh ringtone echoed through the grotto, causing everyone to enter a frenzy for a moment. “Fuck, sorry!” Vessel fumbled to see who was calling and bile rose in the back of his throat. “Shit, I have to go. I forgot– I have to go. My partner’s calling me and —” The ringing stopped. Then, the texts appeared.
‘Come home.’
‘Now.’
‘We need to talk.’
“Did I tell you how much I hate that person?” III spat. “You’re going to hear it again: You should leave and never see your so-called ‘lover’ again.”
“Vessel!” IV called out just as he was poised to run out. Run away. Run away from the wrong things. “You can always punch your partner if they swing first.”
Vessel could only nod distractedly as he scrambled to leave his sanctuary and reenter the lion’s den. The only things in his mind was what could be waiting for him at home. What could be so urgent that a phone call was necessary? What did he do wrong this time? As his stomach churned violently and threatened to empty itself, he turned his mind towards the crooning, hypnotic voice from the ocean. “Sleep,” he whispered, “please make my partner happy. When they’re happy, they’re in a good mood. When they’re in a good mood, then I’m happy too. Please.”
Unbeknownst to him, the merfolk placed seashells and a fresh offering on their shrine. “Sleep,” they prayed, “please ensure Vessel’s happiness.”
And unaware to everyone, Sleep listened.
(When Vessel arrived home, his partner — well, his ex now — broke up with him while clinging onto a person Vessel had never seen before. Words were shouted, glass was thrown, and Vessel threw the second or third punch. Self defense, he told himself.)
(At least his ex was happier now. Vessel didn’t remember when was the last time they had smiled that wide in his presence, with the edges of their eyes crinkling. His face was a wreak: a cut near his eye, bruises too. At least the nosebleed had stopped.)
(The crooning. To the ocean, it whispered. To the waters.)
(The further Vessel followed the voice, the more muddled his memories became. But of course: Sleep had to preserve as much of himself as it could while allowing for the change to take over his soul and body. The god thoughtfully pulled out threads of memories from his mind and layered them deep within him, someplace where the change wouldn’t reach.)
(The god hummed the song that Vessel had hummed the first time it had tried to coax him into the depths. It had heard its acolytes talk about this human before. How lovely he was. How his voice was fit for a siren. How he was a vessel for the ocean itself. How much more they could love him if he would let them.)
(Now, as the god rearranged him to sing and have those pretty white jaws and eyes fit for being saved by a god such as itself, they would have all the time in the world.)
Vessel, Sleep whispered. Awaken.
The orca merfolk knew that III was scheming something when he nuzzled his masked face into the crook of his neck before purring, “I bet the next fish I hunt that you can’t lure a human with your voice.”
Vessel groaned and proceeded to shove III off the rock they were both sunning themselves on. The eel merfolk let out an undignified yelp before flashing his middle finger back and yelling, “Rude!”
“My voice is not something you can make bets on.” Vessel stretched and shifted positions for comfort, the dorsal fin on his back something he found a bit cumbersome at first, but now he had gotten used to it. He still missed sleeping on his back sometimes.
“II and IV make bets on your voice, you fucker.” III lowly laughed when Vessel perked his head up at that. “IV bets you’ll add someone to the polycule, while II thinks it allows you to hunt easier.”
“No, I don’t think so, and no?” Vessel shook his head and asked out of morbid curiosity, “What do the Espera think?”
“They think we’re lunatics.”
A hearty laugh escaped Vessel’s mouth, starting deep from his chest and echoing up and out. Several seagulls nearby abandoned their posts, squawking bloody murder at the sudden disturbance to their peace.
“How about it? Nearby boat full of humans who’ve had a bit too much to drink.”
Vessel could practically see the shit-eating grin on III’s face, even with the mask on, but he still hesitated. “Wouldn’t there be stories? Or at least, videos?”
“Sleep takes care of that. It’s scarily good. II saw speakers explode when humans partied too hard and too close to your grotto once.”
“That’s why I —? Holy shit.” Vessel shook his head and deserted his sunning rock, diving back into the salty depths. He paused to gather how his words would translate underwater before clicking, “Let me guess: IV found the boat?”
“And II is pretending to not be interested, you know. All grumpy and shit.” III swam in a circle around Vessel before pressing his mask to the orca merfolk’s own as a sign of affection.
Similar to the Espera’s masks, Vessel’s mask left his mouth open while having six slanted eyeholes for his eyes. The world had been severely disorientating when he had first awoke changed, forcing him to have spent several days in a cave that the merfolk had called home before II had swam up to him with a mask in his hands. It was carved white with golden filigree around the edges, bits of green decorating a sigil.
“For you,” he had said. “So we can spend time together again. As many times as it’ll take.”
Vessel tapped his fingers against the forehead of his mask as he swam to the fated boat. The others, along with the Espera, were already there. They were all still underwater and a safe distance away, but even from here Vessel could hear loud, energetic music. “If there’s something I find fun,” Nia chirped when she tried to loosen Vessel’s nerves up, “it’s singing with you and my loves.”
“I thought it was watching humans in amazement over our voices and stumbling around,” corrected Patricia.
“Sleep forbid a merfolk has hobbies.”
Estrella pointed towards the surface and placed a finger over her lips. “Do you still want to do this, Vessel?”
Before he could chicken out — before something in his mind, something still raw and hurt over the fucked-up way that Sleep granted not only his wish, but the wish of the merfolk who treated him leagues better and for longer than he had ever had with his ex, who upon praying to their god had found out that it granted both wishes and that he didn't have to worry his sorry human mind over land lows and woes anymore — Vessel silently breached the water’s surface.
The music was louder now, less muffled. It was a remix with a thumping bass and a well-deserved drop. Vessel hesitated for a breath, then he opened his mouth and loudly, wordlessly, sang.
He sang solo for a bit, not wanting to pressure the Espera to join if they weren't ready. But they harmonized soon enough, barely luminous in the afternoon light but elegant all the same. IV soon joined in, albeit quieter. II and III didn’t sing, but instead contributed in a different way: III lowly hummed while II tapped on the water’s surface in a rhythmic manner
It was beautiful. It was everything Vessel could’ve asked for.
When someone on the boat shouted, the merfolk dispersed underwater with thrilled clicks while a familiar hum reverberated in the back of Vessel’s mind.
It was perfect where he was. He wouldn’t change it for the world.