#Washed Ashore

[comfortingcatharsis]

A character washed up ashore after a storm; tangled in seaweed with the rest of the flotsam and debris tossed above the tideline, crusted with sand, clothing torn and limbs abraded by rocks and barnacles, eyes and nose stinging with salt, beginning to burn in the unforgiving sun yet still nearly hypothermic with the bone-deep chill of the water and their sodden, waterlogged clothing; every breath damp and crackling through the congestion of inhaled water and saltspume; utterly spent with the exhaustion of trying to stay afloat for so long, not roused by seabirds pecking at their raw hands, nor by the lap of the encroaching tide at their feet...

Then someone searching the strand for salvageable wreckage finds them.

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

For the mermaid ask can you do 1+6+8 you write really cool stuff 💕

Hi Ha-Ha Whump! Thanks so much for the kind words! Sure I can write this for you! Thanks for requesting this, here you go! P.S. I know mermay is long over but hey, it's still summer over here! And mermaids are relevant all year long in my opinion! Thanks for your patience while I got around to this!

From this ask game

The waves lapped at the shoreline like a mother pulling a blanket up to her child’s chin. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, painting the sky with a pink and orange hue. Bits of wood and metal littered the beach, coated in salt and sand.

Caretaker picked their way through the wreckage, looking for any survivors. They had the lighthouse beacon on all night, but some poor ship had managed to get dashed on the rocks all the same. Upon seeing the ripped, black flag with the skull and crossbones amongst the driftwood, Caretaker realized that this might not have been a bad thing.

A splash made Caretaker whip their head around. Something was writhing in the sunken ship’s net. A pirate? A pirate’s prisoner? Regardless, they were a survivor, and Caretaker hoped to keep it that way. They rushed over to the spot, untangling the person trapped inside. They were so entangled that only their upper half was remotely visible.

They looked up at Caretaker with fearful eyes. Their long hair clung to their face and torso, dirtied with sand. Red welts littered their pale body. A pirate’s prisoner then.

“It’s alright,” Caretaker said, “you’re lucky to be alive. I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

The person didn’t speak, just gave a tiny nod. Caretaker started working on their lower half, and gasped when the net fell away to reveal a shimmering fish’s tail.

So more than a pirate’s prisoner- a pirate’s trophy, a pirate’s pet; a captured mer. Now that Caretaker took a closer look, those freckles on the person’s face looked more like little blue scales. Those scars on their neck? Gills. And hidden behind their curtain of hair were webbed ears.

“Are you going to hurt me?” The mer asked as if they knew the answer already.

“Wha- no, of course not,” Caretaker said, eliciting a look of surprise from the mer, “I said I was going to take care of you.”

Now that the creature was free, Caretaker could get a better look at their lower half. Their tail was littered with cuts and was missing scales in various patches. There was no way they’d be able to swim with it. It was decided then.

“My name is Caretaker,” they started slowly, “I’m going to pick you up now if that’s okay.”

“P-please don’t,” the mer said, shrinking back.

“But you’ll die if I leave you out here on your own,” Caretaker reasoned, “I promise I won’t hurt you, I just want to help.”

The mer thought it over for a long moment. They looked up at Caretaker and nodded. Caretaker smiled in a way they hoped was calming. They scooped the mer up in a bridal carry.

“..umpee,” the mer mumbled.

“Hm? What was that?”

“Whumpee,” the mer repeated, a little more audibly, “my name is Whumpee.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Whumpee,” Caretaker said, “I’m gonna get you all fixed up, okay?”

Caretaker began the walk from the beach to their lighthouse near the cliffs. They had no idea how to take care of a mer, but darn it, they were going to try.

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@mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog

@electrons2006

[cidsin]

Art by me @cidsin Zora May 009

Zora May Challenge 2024 from @prisiidon

A day later this time ^^° we had spring cleaning yesterday, but on to the picture: Vavam got a pretty... fast ride to the place that was said to be safe and a new home. So his washed ashore experience is not the nicest. Barely avoiding the trees of that huge swamp area that he ended up in.

[letthewhumpbegin]

Fantastic Beasts: The Secrets of Dumbledore (2022)

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

Arinn found by Liv shipwreck was SO GOOD. Part two maybe pretty please? If you're up for it.

LONG delayed part two of this! It was sitting way down in my drafts half finished. :')

Content Warnings: demon/incubus whumpee, shipwrecked, rescue, exhaustion, touch starved

----

Dry clothes, a warm bed and a meal do wonders for the demon. Arinn doesn't say much but he's grateful...especially when they don't ask any questions about the marks on his body. He manages to tell them his name before falling asleep.

Exhausted by everything he's been through, he sleeps well into the evening, looking much better than when Liv found him corpse-like on the beach.

But the next morning his condition has taken a turn. He's somehow more pale and drawn, barely able to sit up.

Liv and Emmeline assume he's sick after too long spent soaked out in the cold. He isn't sneezing, coughing or feverish, but they can't come up with another explanation. They give him plenty of blankets and bring him food and water but nothing seems to help.

"We have to do something," Liv whispers to Emmeline out in the hall. "He's dying."

"He isn't dying," Emmeline answers calmly, her hand on Liv's arm. "He just isn't well."

She peers into his room.

"Oh - he's awake. Let me see if he needs anything..."

Liv doesn't argue; Emmeline's bedside manner is a lot better than hers. But she watches from the doorway as Emmeline goes to sit at the edge of the bed.

"Hey," Emmeline says softly. "How are you feeling?"

Arinn's slowly blinking eyes meet hers. "I'm okay," he answers unconvincingly.

Emmeline puts her hand on his. He's cold to the touch and shaking slightly, but the longer she holds his hand the less he trembles.

The two women exchange a glance and Emmeline nods her head. Without a word, Liv goes to sit on the other side and takes the demon's other hand.

"Tell us what you need," Emmeline gently insists.

Tears spill down the young man's face. He can barely stay awake, but his grip on their hands tightens.

"This," he pleads brokenly. "Just this. Please, it's - it's hard to explain..."

"You don't have to," Liv interrupts. "Not right now. Just get some rest."

He doesn't need to be told twice. Comforted by their touch and presence, Arinn sleeps.

[inkonherfingers]

Washed Ashore: Chapter Four

Not soon after she had rescued him, fishermen from the village had travelled to the shores and found the wreck and the lifeless bodies of what they only knew to be...

"Elves." one of them grunted before he rudely spit on the ground, close to the stiff body of a perished soul.

"What were they doing in these waters? The Southlands do not trade with the Elves, have not for hundreds of years!"

"Now here they are, their bodies soiling our waters! All of them dead...Should have stayed where they were." 

"...They are not."

They all turned at the sound of his voice, and as he began to make his way towards the body that lay right before them, they parted to let him through. He towered among the men. The spear he held was as tall as he was himself, and as his feet crushed the wet sand, the spear drew a deep line in it. 

The men dared not mumble and whisper in his back, silence remained, until he came to a halt.

He looked down and met the dead eyes of an elf, their blue colour now faded to a greyish, sickly green.

"What do you mean, Bloodbeard?" the oldest among them asked.

He looked up, and as he did, finally revealed the scar that crossed his right eye.

"Not all of them are dead." he said, tilting his spear to point like the needle of a compass.

"Horse Hooves in the sand... up to the hill."

His eyes darkened. 

"Somebody was here before us... and they did not leave alone."

.............

Elrond awoke to the sound of leaves in the wind. The window of the North-West wall was open, its boards clapping against the old wood. His eyes focused on the vivid grass that moved like waves under the strong breeze.

Waves. He closed his eyes.

There had been some where he'd come from. 

There they were again, right before him even though they weren't, surrounding him so far and out he could not see the end of them.And the fog... as if conjured up by magick.

And the air...until there was none. And the black...was suddenly all that remained.

"Stranger." her voice released him from the horror behind his lids. Her face hovered over his, and she looked down at him.

"You were stirring in your sleep, calling out for ghosts and things past...all through the night."

Quickly, his eyes diverted from hers, and in a swift movement, he sat up and steadied himself. "Forgive me." he said. The healer did not reply. "I did not mean to."

She looked at him, the question she really wanted him to answer at the tip of her tongue. But as she watched and saw the misery and exhaustion in the lines of his face, it seemed that in his sleep, he had lived the nightmare lifetimes over.

Words would never suffice to still its shadow.

"Unravel your bandage." she finally turned to face him. His weary eyes met hers just for an instant, only to turn away again as just as quickly. He complied, shifting on the stray bed to get on his knees.

He removed his shirt swiftly, revealing the band-aid. The wound had not bled through like it had done before. He felt the pressure of her fingertips on his side right before the band unravelled.

"You're healing quickly," she said as her eyes landed on the wound. "The infection is almost gone.", she said.

"I did not expect for it to heal so fast.", she said, quieter than before. 

The elf exhaled without making a sound. He knew at that moment that she did not know elves recovered quicker than man did, but he also knew she'd find out in her own time. And so he said nothing, and did nothing but steal a glance at her.

"...It will be much less painful from now on. You'll be on your feet soon enough,"

She got to her knees, brushing her hands off on her dress. 

Elrond's lips parted, a question on the tip of his tongue, but she turned away, faster than he could muster the courage. She was about to step out of the room, when he saw the basket of mint by the entry.

"Let me..." 

Maywren froze at the mouth of the door, one foot in the shadow of the hallway. " ...assist you." 

They locked eyes. 

"Let me do something. I will do anything."

Reluctant first, she took a step toward him. "I am not counting a debt. This was not a favour."

"You saved my life."

She shook her head, "No. You must rest so you can get on." - "I must."

"You cannot stay here!" - "I have no choice!" he said, louder than he had intended, his voice full of all the emotions he did not want to surface. He felt his eyes sting, tears threatening to well up inside them. He forced them back. 

The woman pressed her back up against the frame of the door, clenching her jaw, suddenly afraid. Silence settled between both creatures, if only for a moment, before he got to his feet.

"...I am in an unknown land, seas away from where I set sail." he took a step forward, towards her.

"All of my kin perished at sea. Here I am, not among my own. And here, in these walls... I am at your mercy."

"How can you know whether I hold such virtue?" she muttered, diverting her eyes from him as he stared right at her.

"You would not have saved the life of a stranger, if you did not." Sincerity rung not only in his voice, but was written in his eyes. 

"I can hide you from the people on this land." she said, "But I cannot keep you safe from them."

"...You already have." the elf said. Maywren wanted to answer him, but the words died at the edges of her lips. 

And as If he had read her mind, he then spoke to her:

"I know you are afraid of me. And I can sense that your fear is not only of me. If you want me to leave... I will do whatever I can to put you out of danger.

I will leave as soon as the coast has cleared."

Maywren exhaled a shuddered breath. She felt and knew she could not let him leave in good conscience. These lands were not safe for him to cross. The hate towards his kind still poisoned every soul that could lay their eyes on him.

No set of eyes on the island would turn away at the sight of an elf, and no hand of men would leave him unharmed.

When she met his gaze again, and saw the sincerity behind the fear and sorrow in his eyes, she felt something inside of her loosen, a voice call her to draw a breath.

And against the hairs that stood up in the back of her neck, 

she felt a trust which she somehow knew to trust.

The healer locked eyes with the elf again, holding the gaze as long as she could, searching to confirm something she felt inside of her but could not name.

"Follow me." she finally said, before she turned and walked away. He followed her without hesitating, not daring to ask her where to. Simply following. 

"If you go outside, whenever you do, you must wear this cloak." Maywren took it down from where it'd hung before she turned. Her eyes wandered over his ears, before she handed it to him. Their fingers slightly grazed against each other when she placed it in his hands. "If you reveal your ears..."

- "I shall wear it." he swore immediately. " 'Shall not cross the threshold without it."

She lowered her eyes before she nodded. Then, they stopped right before a door. When she pushed it open the beams of sunlight blinded him, so he raised his hand over his eyes and blinked, stunned.

"This is the garden," her heard her proclaim. He lowered his hand and blinked, slowly, lowering his gaze until he saw her. "The herbs grow here."

The first thing his eyes landed upon were the rows of 

"Athelas." he said, barely above a whisper. 

"Yes," she smiled, "Kingsfoil."

He took a deep breath before, he, unsure of whether he had the strength, placed one foot before the other and slowly descended the steps. When his bare feet met the blades of grass, the tingling in the soles of his feet travelled up his spine. He closed his eyes, his breath catching in his throat. Those blades of grass, the consoling breeze of the wind, letting him feel that what he somewhere in his mind still believed to be a nightmare was real.

He'd been swallowed by waters faraway from where he'd set sail, from the only earth he'd known...

...and washed ashore.

Alone. 

Tears welled up behind his eyes as he felt his heart break, and his soul weep with the pain he'd felt only when he'd lost for the very first time.

"Do you know to how care for them?" her voice, gentle and comforting, whisked him out of his darkness.

Breathless, he opened his eyes. As he did, tears, clear as crystal, fell from his lashes and streamed down his cheeks.

The wind began to blow. As it blew, Maywren's eyes remained on him.

She felt the sorrow in the wind and in the sounds it made. She remained silent, hoping he'd feel that she was beside him.

His trembling lips gently parted as he released a breath heavy and filled with turmoil.

Elrond nodded, before he answered her.

"I do."

[blueraimo]

[actress4him]

Whumptober 2024 - Day 5

Sunburn

Contains: generic whumpee, mer whumpee, environmental whump, storm mention, burns

The first thing Whumpee became aware of was heat. With a groan, they stirred, but their discomfort only increased as they moved, pain flaring up along their arms and spine.

They’d never felt like this before. Everything was so…dry. They scrunched their webbed fingers and felt sand underneath, but it wasn’t the soft, squishy texture they were used to on the sea bed. It was scratchy. It coated their skin, rubbing at places that somehow already felt raw, and even their gills felt like they were full of grit.

Whumpee blinked their eyes open, immediately regretting it and squeezing them shut again. Why was everything so bright? Beyond their eyelids was a blinding wash of white. They tried again to look around, to figure out where they were, but they could barely manage a squint.

Suddenly it all came back to them. The storm that had caught them off guard far too close to the surface, the waves that tossed them around mercilessly. They must have been washed ashore. No wonder everything was dry, they could hear water somewhere behind them but none of it was actually touching them.

They needed to get back to the water. Whumpee shoved themself up off the sand, not expecting the rush of pain that came over them. A cry escaped their throat. Their back and arms burned, like the time they’d tried to climb onto a black rock out in the sun but so much worse. This felt like the rock had been pressed into their skin for hours…or perhaps the sun itself. A glance at the backs of their arms showed skin that had somehow turned bright pink while they were unconscious.

Their tail, too, ached from a lack of water. Whumpee tried to lift it, and it seemed to weigh a hundred pounds. If they didn’t get back in the ocean soon…

Craning their neck, they spotted the brilliant blue of their home, not too awfully far behind them but far enough that they weren’t sure how they would ever make it there. They had to start trying, though. Each movement was agony, every inch they dragged their tail through the sand felt as if it was ripping off all their scales and the burning was eating up their shoulders as their muscles strained.

But finally, finally, the waves lapped up over their hands. Just a few pulls more, and they collapsed in the shallow surf, gills opening to gulp in water greedily as their hair swirled around them.

The relief was instantaneous. The water was so cold and good against their inflamed skin. Whumpee stayed in that spot, uncaring of the wet sand that was embedding itself in their hair, soaking it all in and trying to let the trauma of the morning wash away.

In a little while, they’d work up the energy to swim home. For now, though, this was enough.

[fenrislorsrai]

Smithsonian’s National Zoo Presents “Washed Ashore: Art to Save the Sea” by Smithsonian's National Zoo Via Flickr: Photo Credit: Washed Ashore: Art to Save the Sea On exhibit for the first time in the Washington, D.C. region, the Smithsonian’s National Zoo presents “Washed Ashore: Art to Save the Sea” from May 27 through Sept. 5. Made completely of plastic debris collected from beaches, the colorful and dramatic sculptures of marine animals represent the more than 315 billion pounds of plastic in oceans today and underscore the need for wildlife conservation. Admission to the Zoo and this exhibit is free. Made possible with the support of Friends of the National Zoo, visitors are invited to get up close to view the sculptures, which range from a 12-foot-long shark and 16-foot-long parrot fish to an 8-foot-wide octopus and a 20-foot-long coral reef. Seventeen sculptures of marine life will be installed along the Zoo’s Olmsted Walk, in the Visitor’s Center and at the Amazonia exhibit. Visitors can see marine animals affected by waste—including sea lions, brown pelicans and corals—on view at the Zoo’s American Trail and Amazonia Science Gallery, respectively. “We’re excited to bring conservation science and art together to connect our visitors to the impact of trash on ocean health,” said Dennis Kelly, Zoo director. “The Smithsonian’s National Zoo and Conservation Biology Institute is committed to saving marine species and is a pioneer in coral-reef research and conservation. While intricate and captivating, these sculptures are a powerful reminder of our personal role and responsibility in preserving global biodiversity on land and in the sea.” The ocean produces more than 50 percent of the world’s oxygen, and coral reefs nurture more than a quarter of all marine life. Using procedures similar to those used in human sperm banks, Smithsonian Conservation Biology Institute (SCBI) scientist Mary Hagedorn and her team are global leaders in conserving coral reefs and the ecosystems that they build. Increased greenhouse gases are warming and acidifying oceans across the planet, causing a widespread coral-reef crisis. By pioneering coral cryo-conservation and collecting and storing coral sperm from threatened reefs to produce new colonies in the lab for captive-bred and wild-colony conservation, SCBI is building a potential lifeline for species under threat from climate change, pollution and overfishing. Scientists at the Smithsonian are helping ensure a future for coral reefs and the species that count on them for survival as ocean environments change. “The National Zoo—America’s zoo—has given us a global platform to present our art to educate a world audience about how plastic pollution is posing a dangerous and perhaps catastrophic threat to the world’s oceans and sea life,” said Angela Haseltine Pozzi, lead artist and Washed Ashore executive director. Under the leadership of Pozzi, Washed Ashore Project volunteers clean beaches and process the debris into art supplies. To date, thousands of volunteers have processed an estimated 18 tons of garbage collected from more than 300 miles of coastline to create 68 sculptures. As lead artist, Pozzi orchestrates the construction of these towering, striking sculptures of marine life. Each sculpture was created using hundreds of individual pieces, from flip-flops and bottle caps to nylon rope, Styrofoam and lighters. Based in Bandon, Ore., the Washed Ashore Project is a non-profit dedicated to educating and creating awareness about marine debris and plastic pollution through art. “Washed Ashore: Art to Save the Sea” is a traveling exhibit that has been featured at different locations throughout the country. Related Programs Washed Ashore’s “Turtle Ocean” / On view beginning June 8 Sant Ocean Hall / Smithsonian’s National Museum of Natural History In addition to the 17 sculptures on view at the National Zoo, visitors can see “Washed Ashore: Art to Save the Sea’s” “Turtle Ocean” in the National Museum of Natural History’s Sant Ocean Hall. Created by Washed Ashore director Angela Haseltine Pozzi, “Turtle Ocean” depicts an entangled Hawksbill turtle swimming in an environment of water-bottle sea jellies and beached flip-flop anemones along with marine-debris seaweed and coral made of old buoys, crates and buckets. Hawksbill sea turtles face many threats, including mistakenly ingesting marine trash for food. All six species of sea turtles found in U.S. waters are threatened or endangered. The Sant Ocean Hall is the Museum’s largest exhibit, providing visitors with a unique introduction to the majesty of the ocean. The hall’s combination of 674 marine specimens and models, high-definition video and the newest technology allows visitors to explore the ocean’s past, present and future. For World Oceans Day programming at the Sant Ocean Hall, visit the Museum’s website. For more ocean information, visit ocean.si.edu. World Oceans Day Celebration June 11; 10 a.m. – 2 p.m.; National Zoo It is not just marine animals who depend upon the ocean for survival. Visitors can celebrate World Oceans Day at the Zoo with educational activities, animal demonstrations and crafts. # # #

[kaito-spotted]

Spotted !! shipwreacked !! (Photo By Pixabay)

[mark-mpls]

I just spent six months in a leaky boat…

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

From the recent mermaid ask game 1, 8 and 10?

I love MerMay and this prompt list looks great!

Thanks any if its a no, 🫧 bubble anon🫧

Hi Bubble Anon! I’d love to! Thanks for requesting this, here you go!

From this ask game

Whumper strode along the beach, looking out at the water, the sun giving it a beautiful shimmer. Whumper often liked to come here to admire the scenery and look for seashells. Whumper carried a bag with them to collect the little treasures they found in the sand. Little did they know that today’s find would be much better than a seashell.

Whumper was just about to pick up a sand dollar when something glittery caught their eye. Whumper strode closer and just barely stifled a gasp. Sharp rocks trapped a resplendent fish’s tail. There was red seeping out of it, and on the other side of the tail was the upper half of a person. Their breathing was labored and shallow, and their eyes were closed. Their long, wet hair clung to their face, and their webbed ears poked out between the strands. Sparkling scales decorated their upper half here and there. They were the most stunning creature Whumper had ever seen.

Whumper gingerly climbed over the rocks to where the merperson lay. They slowly and carefully freed the merperson’s tail from its trap. They lifted the merperson in a bridal carry. The blood from their tail dribbled onto Whumper’s skin, but Whumper didn’t care. To them, even their blood was beautiful.

Whumper turned back the way they had come, carrying the unconscious merperson with them. It was as if the sea had dropped off a gift just for them, and Whumper intended to take very good care of it.

…

Whumpee stirred against something hard. They opened their eyes to a plain, white bathroom. Whumpee looked around in confusion, their head whipping around when they heard the sound of a door opening.

“Oh my,” a stranger said, “you’re awake.”

The stranger bent down against the rim of the bathtub, which Whumpee realized they were laying in, and reached out to stroke Whumpee’s hair. Whumpee flinched back, their tail splashing in the water.

“Oh no, darling, don’t do that!” the stranger said quickly, “you’ll aggravate things.”

Whumpee followed the stranger’s gaze to their tail. There were soft, white bandages wrapped snugly around it. Whumpee looked back at the stranger with wide, fearful eyes.

“Don’t look so frightened,” the stranger cooed, “I’m not going to hurt you. I spent a good half-hour tending to you.”

“Who-” Whumpee swallowed, “who are you? Where am I?”

“My name is Whumper,” the stranger answered, “and you’re home, little one.”

“Home?”

Whumper nodded, a sparkle in their eye.

“The bathroom is only temporary, of course,” Whumper said, “I’ve already ordered better living arrangements for you. The tank should be here in a few days.”

“Tank?” Whumpee asked, “I don’t understand-”

“Don’t you?” Whumper tilted their head, “I’ve rescued you from the harsh, unforgiving sea. You’re going to live with me now, safe and cared for.”

“Wha- no!” Whumpee cried, “no, I have to get back. I have to go home. Please, take me home!”

“Little one, you are home,” Whumper said, standing up, “you need to accept that, or you won’t acclimate as well.”

Whumper started to leave. When they got to the door, they turned to look at Whumpee.

“I’m going to go do some research, but I’ll be back soon,” Whumper promised.

Whumper closed the door behind them. Whumpee looked around the small bathroom again. Their breaths came in short gasps and their eyes went wide. They were trapped, and there was nothing they could do about it.

ko-fi

tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm

[historydailyfrancischappellblack]

A WWI-era German Submarine, U-118, Washed Ashore in Hastings, England, 1919.

Subscriber Content Add content here that will only be visible to your subscribers. Payment Image: A WWI-era German submarine washed ashore in Hastings, England, in 1919.SM U-118 was a type UE II mine-laying submarine of the Imperial German Navy and one of 329 submarines serving with that navy during World War I.U-118 engaged in naval warfare and took part in the First Battle of the Atlantic.SM…

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

debris

Author’s Notes: based on this post!

should I leave him like that?

Shae Taglist: @whumpsday

Content Warnings: tiny whumpee, almost drowned, washed ashore, dehydration, heat, sunburn, heat exhaustion, collapse, ambiguous ending

----

Last night’s storm leaves debris strewn across the beach. Even when the thunder and lightning pass, the sea thrashes and churns well into the first light of a cool morning.

Waves are still gently lapping at Shae’s feet when he snaps awake with a gasp. The faerie coughs up saltwater until there’s nothing left in him, and even then his body continues to shiver and dry heave despite how weak he is. He curls his arms around his cramping stomach. Unable to catch his breath, he passes out again quickly.

-

Shae can’t stay awake. Awake is a splitting headache and numb, heavy limbs. It’s a sore, raw throat and burning eyes. It’s an empty, aching belly. Awake hurts too much to stay there.

-

The chill in the air is quickly replaced by sweltering heat. The tide has receded and the damp sand is beginning to dry.

Shae lies on his side, breathing shallowly through cracked lips that sting with salt.

A piece of shell is digging hard into his hip. When it becomes unbearable he forces himself to roll onto his stomach, groaning from the effort.

His hip twinges as blood rushes to the newly formed bruise, but the new position is more comfortable. The faerie is much too exhausted to deny himself the pull of sleep when it comes.

- 

Harsh midday sun bears down from a cloudless sky. It bakes the sand and everything on it, and Shae’s tattered, salt-crusted clothes offer little protection.

Maybe it’s the delirium setting in, or just self preservation, but Shae feels the sudden urge to move. He can’t bear the heat a moment longer, and though he can barely make out where the beach ends, it does end. Shae gets to his hands and knees and starts to crawl desperately towards hazy shapes in the distance without knowing what dangers they might bring.

-

Shae’s path draws a wobbly line across the beach from where he first washed up to where he finally wilts into the sand, unable to go on.

He shields his face from the light with his arm and tries to simply breathe. Indifferent to his suffering, the sun shines on.

[inkonherfingers]

Washed Ashore: Chapter 5

The black night sky roamed over the vast land and the woods, and though it was devoid of stars, its silence wielded serenity. A natural silence, which, like the sky itself, draped itself over the woods and its trees, over the beings that slept and those that watched in its darkness, down to the blades of grass.

And yet, something was not right.

A thing that did not belong had found foot in the blackness. A thing was abusing the cover of the night and the refuge of the trees. Fog had descended into the woods and snuck between each tree that stood. And right behind it, evil advanced.

It poisoned the air, asphyxiated the life it encroached on. Those creatures that slept were woken by its sound. And those that saw a sudden sea of red eyes glowing in the dark like a sea of fire, fled, and tore the silence apart to cry out their warning to those that could hear...

...And would heed to it.

______________

The healer startled when the cry of an eagle tore through the night. She turned away from the fire and rose to the open window. The sky was cloudless and devoid of stars. The lonely white moon glared back at her. Then there, she saw: The shadow of an eagle high in the night sky. Flying higher and higher, as if it soared so the heavens themselves could hear it. The sight of it and the sound of its cries quickened her heartbeat, for she had never seen this creature in the night.

...It told her something was not right.

   "...What are you doing in the night sky?" she whispered, staring up at it.

It conjured up a worry and fear in her she did not understand. And yet, what it was telling her, she could not sense. Before she'd get lost in her tangling thought, she forced it into the back of her mind. She shut the window as quietly as she could before she looked over her shoulder, at the stranger. Her eyes wandered over him, looking him over, before she moved to sit. The crackling flame illuminated only half of his face. His eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell like waves of water. Shortly, her eyes fixated on the dancing fire of the lit candle in front of her, before they found him again. He had fallen asleep.  After she'd shown him the garden, and after their words, he'd remained silent for the rest of the day and what then came of the night. She had not tended to the garden, and neither had he. She had left the place to him.

After the devastation she had seen in him, and felt in herself as if it had gotten caught around them in the wind, she'd felt it was the right thing to leave him be. He only returned into the hut when the sun had set, and she had not heard him come in when he did. He suddenly just sat where he'd lain for the past days, his back turned to her.

She'd wondered whether Elves had their ways of mourning. If there was a prohibition to speak... or eat. Or whether it was his own manner of grieving, for he had not touched his supper. In the ancient tales of the Elves she had heard their kind to be cold and devoid of emotion. Serious and yet, carefree as they were not eroded by the sands of time. So that when they shed a tear, it held a bottomless depth of pain and sorrow.

In her ancestral lands, tears that like his fell onto the ground and soil, meant that a great transgression had transpired against who had shed them . And that the souls from whom one came from would gather in the unseen realms to console and avenge their dear one.

It made her wonder who those he came from were...and who he'd been before he'd arrived on these shores. She took a deep breath before she suffocated the candle with a sift move of her fingers, leaving her corner of the hut darkened. She then stood up, walking up to where he lay, where she watched him for a long time, before she knelt to cast three cuttings of firewood into the flame.

   "Stranger..." she whispered as she knelt over him and saw the trails of dried tears that marked his cheeks.

   "May the sorrow of your heart not find you under the refuge of sleep,"

   "And may your eyes cease to weep in the morning."

With those words, she left his side and mounted her Geríon, for she was to cross hills, valleys and woods to arrive at the gates of Núrn, the city of the Southlands.  Maywren turned one last time to look back at her home, praying deep in her heart no unsolicited visitor would come by to find what they should not. She looked East, where she saw the hues of the sky begin to change. Dusk was upon her.  If she wanted to reach the city, she would have to depart before first light.

   "Go!" she whipped the reigns, and Geríon rode down the dark hills. The healer felt the wind on her skin and in hear ears, she still heard the eagle's cry.

Núrn lay in the deepest valley, surrounded by highlands and mountains. Rivers off the Núrnen Sea flowed inland to its East and South-West, fertilizing its rich green grounds which reached as far as one's eye could see.

Maywren caressed Geríon's hair as they galloped down the main path. She knew he would remain calm, it was her own blood she was trying to still. She disliked the city and avoided its people, for its people were ungrateful and untrusting; Cold, to anyone the considered an outlander.  No matter the significance of her services, she never grew to know their kindness. Her hands, despite their craft, were feared; Brown and unfamiliar it seemed they would forever remain.  She knew she was not far from the gates as the sounds of the city began to grow louder with every step the horse took. She pulled the hood of her midnight cloak off, as the city walls, tall and and built of dark grey stone, came into view. She revealed her face not because guards waited at the gate; Núrn was a city without a ruler, a kingdom without a king. Overtaken by the strongest and cruellest hand, Bloodbeard, a moralless brute and his men, controlled the people from the shadow. No, she removed her hood so her view was clear, for she knew not whether her deed on the shores had been perceived and if by her mercy upon the elf she had made an enemy. She draped the cloak over her blade and looked up as she passed the tall bow of the gatehouse. The plastered path raised itself, leading upwards into the streets. The banter and music grew louder. The first people appeared, beggars and lost souls lining the corners speaking to invisible things and crying of hunger. Maywren lowered her head as she passed them, looking up only as she reached the market. And there, in the first faces she perceived, she already saw the kindness fade. Those who paid her any mind sneered at her and whispered among themselves.

    "There she is," she heard a woman say.

   "She wasn't seen here in months... One can only wonder what she does in empty lands all by herself."

   "She seldom speaks to any body when she comes, holding secrets in her eyes... like a witch." 

The crowd gave way to her horse as she passed through. The ground beneath its hooves was brown as dark sand, and without stone.  The homes were built of dark wood and reached half the heights of the city walls, most entrances were only made of hanging cloth.

The healer looked straight ahead and kept an air of indifference as she passed through them. Out the corner of her eye, she saw a man spit on the ground as he glared at her, gripping the handle of his sword. His head hung lazily and he stunk of beer. Others were close behind him, talking among themselves. All bore the scarlet leather emblem on their cloaks, shaped like a drop of blood.  They were the men of Bloodbeard.  And where they stood, were the old houses of the soldier's guard. Right there, the stone path began anew, stretching out to built a courtyard. In its middle stood a tall post of wood, stained with blood. It is where those that did not obey his violent governance met their end, whipped till their bones peaked through their flesh and abandoned until they drew their last breath.

Maywren got off the horse and led it over the court, keeping her eyes levelled as to not show any fear as she passed the men. There were a hundred of them, speaking loudly, duelling one another.  In her back, she heard one of them speak of the shipwreck. Many answered the voice, cursing and spitting at the mention of the bodies of elves that washed ashore.

    "Damned may they be, sailing for our lands after what they did to our ancestors!"

    "They may not have set out for these lands." another said, "The ship looked like it was struck by a terrible storm, unnatural in force."

    "Whatever it was," the first one said. "We do not want them here, dead or alive. Bloodbeard decided all their bodies shall be brunt in two nights."

The healer felt her stomach turn at those words. Her mind drifted to the Stranger. She fought the urge to turn her head, her eyes barely able to cast a glance over Geríon's back and get a look at the face that belonged to the mouth that had spoken those words, but she stopped herself and looked right ahead.

"Come on boy," she said to the horse "let us go from this place." 

Laughter erupted in her back, and a clanking of chugs filled with booze as she finally crossed the courtyard, feeling a wind in her back that raised the hairs on her back. As she walked she felt something in the air, an energy, as if someone had left the court with her. As if she had not left alone. Still, she did not turn.

Silently she disappeared around the second corner, on to what those in Núrn called the "Seer's path". As dubious shadows passed her and curious eyes latched onto her self as she walked down it, her only focus was to make it to the house of old friends.

Maywren exhaled and saw her foggy breath rise up before her. She turned her back to those across the road that seemed to stare Geríon down. Though the only manner in which she could take their attention was abrasive, she knew that her horse was strong, dark and calm as it was. Like a mysterious beast. She grabbed a hold of its leather lead and bound it to the mast.

   "Behave, Geríon. While I'm gone." she said under her breath, caressing his neck.

   "I shan't be long."

He snorted and shook his head gently, leaning into her touch. She patted him twice, before she walked away from him. Eyes followed her. But she wouldn't have to walk for long. Not had she taken twice a dozen step, had she arrived at the old apothecary. It's door, made out of an intimidating scarlet cloth that hung over where a door should have been. It was the domain of the Seer and the Smith. Their bloodline had rested long in these lands, some said even outdated Núrn itself. Born of one womb they were, brother and sister of the same age. Twins.

 Annora and Lothar were their names.

Calmly she brushed the cloth aside and entered, shifting from light into the dim. The smell of rosemary instantly filled her nose and a warmth hit her skin which made a smile grow on her lips. Shelves full of flasks, jars and bottles lined the walls. And herbs hung from the ceiling as they did in her own home.  Against the North wall stood a table covered in black drapes, as grey stone in its middle, and carved into it a pair of eyes.  And yet the person they belonged to were not in sight. Maywren smiled, turning her back to it.

    "...Still burning the rosemary I see." she said, brushing the cloth back into place.

    "...Of course." a gentle voice answered her.

    "It is the only way to convince you to return here it seems." Maywren chuckled, finally turning to look at her dear old friend. There she stood in the corner, half hidden in the dark. And yet, her milky mint green eyes almost glowed like jewels. The healer walked towards her, taking a hold of her extended hands, after which she smiled faintly.

    "There you are." she breathed. Her hair was long and brown, down her back, though strains of silver slowly began to appear in her mane.

    "You have left your eyes on the table." she said.

    "Hm," Annora hummed, turning her head towards the table.

    "I need not see all the time."

She was blind. Had been born as such. And just as early she had begun to see in other ways, just like the women before her. The women of her blood. Much so she bore names she did not receive from birth. Known and feared for her power.

    "You know it is dangerous, not keeping them with you." the healer muttered, lowering her eyes in frustration. "The way the city is turning."

    "It has been turning for a long time now." her voice was calm as still waters.

    "It is only quickening due to mysterious happening unfolding." Maywren let go of her friend's hands. "You've heard." she muttered, turning her back to the her.

"Death and darkness carries upon the wind." the blind woman said, all remnants of happiness fading from her face. "That day after dusk, it was as if the sky shifted quicker than it was supposed to." Annora grabbed a hold of the door frame, feeling the emotions over the gone day overcome her once more.

     "I could feel the cloud blackening and twisting through the very roof. Great malice," she paused,

      "Creeping over the vast body of water."

Maywren furrowed her brows and turned around to face her at those words.

     "What do you mean?" she asked the seer.

     "What... did you see?"

     "Something evil which could not reach us, held back by the protection of the sea, has found a way to our lands." 

There reigned silence for a long time until she broke it. "I felt it like black branches, twisting and snaking their ways around my fingers, arms, until it swallowed me whole.." The healer did not answer, for she knew not nor understood what the seer spoke of.

    "What did you see?"

The healer's heart skipped a beat at the question and she felt herself clench her jaw. Her mind, as hardly as she'd fought it immediately strained to the Stranger. In the safe walls of a friend, she still carried the sentiment that true friends may have run out for her, knowing what she had done. The secret she carried. Slowly and hesitantly did her lips part, trembling and afraid her tongue would betray who she had promised safety to.

     "I have seen the ship." she almost bit out each word. "Belonging to Elves." she looked down at her hands.

     "Broken... by mighty wind and water."

Annora listened silently, tilting her head at the healer's words.

"...Hm." she hummed to herself, a hum almost inaudible. Maywren, too distracted in her thoughts, remembering the words of the men in the soldier's guard. She knew not how she was to tell the stranger what already blackened her own heart against her own kind.

    "What have you come for?" her friend's voice pulled out of the quicksand od her mind.

    "Bandages." her fingers brushed against the cloth she had bound around her forearm. "I cut myself tending my garden."

Annora smile reappeared.

    "So it seems." she said, her fingertips wandering over and along the shelves until she found the rolls of bandages.

Maywren's eyes remained on her keenly, before she began to look around the apothecary, where her eyes would land a dirty apron.

    "Where is Lothar?" Maywren asked.

    "Hill's watch. He has been keeping watch over the lands  for three days and nights. He shall rerun the fourth night."

Maywren said noting in return, knowing that exactly three nights ago she rode to shore and returned not with seashells but an elf. Long she had known the twins, long enough to know that despite their humble existence among the town folk, they were of mightier and deeper ancestry than most knew. Long enough to know that they may be the last of the truly good to remain in the Southlands. 

Good enough to keep secrets, and afford trust. And yet still in her heart, the healer felt she had already endangered them by befriending them. She decided she would not risk more than one life in her endeavour.

"Here it is." she flinched as she so suddenly felt Annora's breath on her neck. Silently she accepted the supplies, her fingers brushing against the seers as she took them out of her hands.

     "I have brought Athelas for you to hang to dry." Maywren said, looking her friend in the eyes. In her own, worry and sadness hung, a cloudiness Annora could not see.

The Seer followed the healer out, stopping for the blink of an eye to grab a hold of an obscure bag she had hidden under the table. They stepped back out into the light of day, the sounds of the city filling their ears. Maywren grabbed a hold of the seers hand and led her to her horse, Geríon, who had patiently waited for her. She unravelled the ties on the bag hanging off Geríon's back, revealing the rich green herb. Out she took it and gently placed bundle after bundle into Annora's free arm.

    "You dry it well," she instructed the woman, "and hide it if you must. I may not come by for long." Annora heard the seriousness in her friend's voice. 

    "...I know." was all she said in turn. Maywren chuckled for only an instant, before she unbound the leather lead from the mast and mounted her horse. "This place is no good. Here..." she breathed, 

    "I can feel all kindness, all trace of good fading out of men. A dangerous air to breathe." The Seer looked up at her and gently lay her hand on the horse.

    "Take this." fogg rose from her breath as he held up the bag.

    "...What is it?" Maywren looked at her friend, hesitantly taking it.

    "More things...to tend to your wound." she smiled as if she had not told any mis-truths. Maywren felt her heart skip a beat once more as she immediately locked eyes with the Seer, hearing the words that were not spoken. And without a word, she obeyed and slung it over the bag, binding it in place. She felt her heart begin to race as she began to turn her horse.

    "I hope you to see you soon, friend. May the Mother guard your every step, and may fortune not leave your side..."

Maywren stayed silent, feeling a sudden tear threaten to fall from her eye. She was afraid, and she felt alone, no matter what she told herself. No matter the iron walls she'd erected.  She had convinced herself she had always been.  She knew not how to appreciate flowers sprouting through those walls to grant only her the beauty of its  colourful petals. So she gathered the courage she had left, and thanked the seer in the only way she knew how.

     "...yes." she whispered, before she took off, parting the crowd as she rode as fast as the wind could carry her, knowing that the only good eyes that would follow her out were surrounded by a sea of ones that watched her with malice.

     The Seer stayed behind, listening to the sound of hooves growing fainter and fainter.

"...you will need it all."