Chapter Text
Marty wasn’t really sure if he believed in the idea of a “sea monster”. He’d dreamt, as a little child, that he and his future gang of really awesome friends would go out and slaughter it one day (before he knew how he felt about seeing non-human blood spill).
Now, he just wanted to go home and sleep in his nice warm bed with some soup. He never thought he’d want to stay still, if he was being honest. He always wanted to be moving, doing something.
But he had bigger priorities as Daxx continued his ramblings, occasionally poking him to add to his speech. He brushed his finger across the bridge of Marty’s nose, turning his head up and pacing, making grand gestures to the room around him.
And then came what Marty should’ve expected the moment he saw Daxx. It was a guillotine type contraption (apparently, in the old days before people settled on Atolli and somehow didn’t get eaten, they’d use them to execute people), but a larger cube as Daxx forced his head down upon the restraints in front of him with an arrogant hand like a headrest. Marty tried to keep his expression as relaxed as possible, trying to not let Daxx win with that look of fear or terror or rage or defiance.
It hurt, oh gods it hurt. What did he expect from something meant to slice his head from his body? He thought that he’d just go unconscious, but now it felt like his thoughts were running at a thousand miles per hour.
“Poor, defiant, impulsive boy.” Daxx cooed, looking at him with the most obviously fake ‘kind’ expression a human could muster, before turning on his heel and walking outside.
Or, at least, that’s what Marty presumed happened, he couldn’t really tell. It was all starting to go dark. Maybe Daxx tripped as he’d fallen out of the room, that would be funny. Was his armory really always at this angle? Was the wall turning sideways?
Marty’s whole body felt weak. And tired. He was really tired. He tried to curl his body in on itself and get some sleep. What had he been doing…? It had been atonement day, hadn’t it? He definitely deserved sleep after winning again. Had he won? Yeah, and then he’d called Josh handsome by accident. That made red-hot embarrassment burn in his chest. And he thought that there was a spice cake that Tripp had made. Had he thanked Tripp for that? He’d better remember to thank him. Where did they even get spices like that? There weren’t any exports, the sea monster made it too dangerous.
He was cold. And tired, his body looped back to the fact he was tired. Really sleepy. He wanted to rest like a baby kitten, with its tailed curled over its snout and its legs all hidden under all that soft fur…
He yawned. Was that air rushing into his mouth? That couldn’t be, he didn’t hear any wind. What did wind even sound like again? His ears felt waterlogged and every noise felt muffled. He stretched to yank the pillow away from his head, but there wasn’t anything there that his brain could place. Just something slimy and slippery that he didn’t like. He should get different pillows then. Or maybe not go to bed after bathing.
What did he like? He liked his friends, he liked his horse, he liked exploring, he liked…
He really needed to sleep. He curled himself back up. Tonight he’d sleep well. Today had been a big day.
Yawnnn, another boring day. Marty didn’t want to get up. He wanted to continue his dream that he’d escaped the island and could take all his friends with him to tame the great beasts that could be out there.
He stretched out, hoping he didn’t accidentally bump into his wall. Nope, he must not have managed to flip himself over in his sleep. And he must’ve kicked the sheets of his bed, too. Why had his unconscious mind done that when it was so damn cold?
He blinked his eyes open, trying to dissipate the bleariness. This place didn’t look like his home, with all those blobs of green and blue. Had any of his friends taken him home? No, no sane person would decorate a home like this. And even though his friends probably weren’t sane, they weren’t the kind that gave you awful interior design skills.
He pushed himself into a sitting position, feeling the air (?) gush strangely around his body.
Wait, was he underwater? The surge of panic, and then adrenaline, almost forced him to inhale as he forced his body towards the surface as fast as he could go.
As soon as he could feel the wind around his body, he took a deep breath and started to climb up the thick, dark wall. But the air felt so thick, he didn’t want it. Maybe he could just sit by the surface, there was a small outcropping nearby. And there everything felt clearer, breathable.
Sure, that sounded pleasant. He sat himself down right there, dipping his legs in the water as he pressed his back against the wall. Now he felt like he could breathe normally, even though his body was half-submerged. And think clearly, whenever he got over how strange it was that he couldn’t feel his legs properly. He’d done a lot of exercise, it must’ve been that he’d pulled something.
So, upon further reflection, he was not in the best situation. Stranded in an unfamiliar place with nothing to guide him home except the large stone wall that honestly probably wouldn’t help. This could be a different one compared to Daxx’s, or he could be on the outside instead of the inside. The best he could do is start swimming in a random direction and pray.
So he took a deep breath, pushed his body off the wall and splashed in, making sure to resurface quickly before starting to push himself into the abyss of ocean.