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imagine-darksiders · 2 years ago

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Fish out of Water - Chapter 4

Imprint.

“Figures,” you huff, grunting as the curve of a chin scrubs gently behind your knees, “Most people are followed home by a lost dog, or a stray cat, but oh no – Not me! I get whatever you two are!”

-------------

Helplessness is, in a word, paralysing.

There have only been two moments in your life where you've faced the unrelenting, near-crushing pressure of true helplessness - the kind that freezes a deer in the headlights of an oncoming truck, the kind that a diver must feel when he's run out of oxygen and he's still three hundred feet from the ocean's surface.

The first instance occurred not so long ago, when the doctors lifted your hospital bedsheets and showed you the empty space where your right leg should have been.

The second moment, interestingly enough, is right now, sitting stiffly astride the chest of a Lovecratian sea monster as it carries you over the sea, each immense tentacle working in tandem to push its bulk lazily up the coastline, parallel to the chalk cliffs.

The clammy skin beneath your backside offers little relief from the bone-deep chill that's settled over you like a wet blanket. You're soaked through. Even your newly-acquired, wax coat has been exposed to the sea, and now, every inch of your body is drenched to the touch.

Both of your arms are circled around your one remaining knee and you stare blankly at the space where your prosthetic used to be, eyes wide as saucers and unblinking despite the raindrops that frequently settle on your lashes.

You're frozen, literally and figuratively. The tops of your fingers and toes have gone numb, and you're too petrified to lift your head up to acknowledge the blood-red stare that's affixed to the top of your sodden hair.

The mer with a face so pale and large that it could replace the moon in the night's sky hasn't once allowed its gaze to stray from you, not even, apparently, to check where it's going. You suppose that somehow, it must be able to sense the environment around it through other means, not that you're anything like an expert in marine biology.

For the last five minutes, ever since it hauled itself from the beach with you in tow, you've been sat shivering like a bedraggled idiot on its sternum whilst it floats upside-down on its eastward journey up the coast, moving back alongside the path you'd taken earlier this morning.

Once, it had brought its colossal hands up to its chest and angled them as if it meant to cup each palm around you, but when you nearly scrambled sideways into the icy water to escape, its appendages has quickly retreated, and since then, you've been subjected to its unwavering stare instead, trapped beneath the soft glow of red that lights up the pale skin all around you.

Any ounce of control you thought you'd retained had swiftly evaporated back on that beach.

Perhaps it's the act of sitting directly over an immense, powerful heart that reminds you of how much smaller you are in comparison to the creature swimming below you.

Smaller, slower, weaker.

Prey perched upon a predator's belly.

While neither creature has actually caused you any harm - save for almost giving you numerous heart-attacks - right now, you're painfully aware that they could do whatever the hell they want to you, and you have no way of stopping them. This beast could carry you anywhere it cares to, leaving you stranded out in open water, miles from sight of land, or worse... it could drag you to the bottom of the cold, dark ocean and watch you try to struggle your way back to the surface.

Helpless.... You hate this feeling.

A loud chirp twitches your eyes to the right, out towards the water, where you immediately lock gazes with the other mer, whose fins so closely resemble the rays of a clipart sun that it'd be funny if they were sported by any smaller creature.

As soon as it notices you looking its way, the beast's mouth surfaces and it grins over at you, showing off the wide expanse of baleen that pushes its cheeks up until they're round and pronounced.

After a moment, you blink, give a wet sniffle and eventually drop your chin down to your knee once again, breathing hard as you try to resign yourself to whatever far these things might have in store for you. If you're going to die, you may as well pretend to be dignified about it.

In the corner of your vision, you see the mer's fins flop backwards against its skull and its grin falters until it collapses entirely and the beast sinks back into the waves, disappearing from view with a thick, oily 'gloop.'

Golden scales flash briefly for a second before the creature dives deeper.

You wonder if it's offended by your refusal to interact with it.

Choking on a scoff, you swipe bitterly at the rain in your eyes and try to duck down further behind the collar of your coat.

It's only seconds later that a noisy splash plucks at your attention, to the left this time.

Tossing a glance in that direction, you find yourself once again peering over at the sunny mer, who throws its mouth up into another grin when it sees you looking.

Then, in a strange display, it begins to flap the orange fins surrounding its head back and forth, flinging them upright, then laying them flat against its skull before repeating the motion in quick succession.

It's an absurd behaviour, seemingly benign, and so entirely unexpected that you don't know how else to react other than to offer the beast a half-hearted quirk of your lips, the distant relative of a smile. You can't find the energy to put any real genuineness behind the action.

Apparently however, this is more than sufficient for the mer's agenda, as its entire expression lights up like a sunflower splaying its petals, big, pale eyes pinch shut.

The creature unleashes a series of chirrups and whistles, overcome by what you can only assume is delight.

As it continues to warble over at you, you grow increasingly perturbed. Dropping your mouth into a downturned line once again, you shuffle away from its gaze, turning on your rump to stare down at your kidnapper's clavicle instead.

Over the sound of rushing waves, you catch a despondent whine.

Underneath you, a sudden rumble passes through the moon beast's chest like a seismic wave, travelling up the column of its throat until it peels its lips apart and unleashes a deep, resonant murmur that vibrates your ribcage and rattles the teeth in your skull.

Risking a glance at it, you find that it has lifted its head out of the water to peer over at its ilk.

Something must have passed between them. A word. A conversation, perhaps... because all of a sudden, the sunny behemoth barks out a response and ploughs to an abrupt halt in the surf.

Startled by the sudden displacement of several thousand gallons of ocean, you twist your head over a shoulder to gape after the mer as it spins its vast bulk around, using its arms to move great swathes of water past itself.

And just like that, with a flick of its substantial fluke, it jets off, vanishing below the waves once more, leaving behind nothing but ever-expanding ripples that mingle with those created by the falling rain.

It's headed back in the direction of the beach you've just been swiped from...

You're not even going to pretend to understand the indecipherable conversation that had just happened between those two leviathans.

Sniffing quietly, you clutch your knee to your chest, peering bleakly out in the direction the yellow mer had just disappeared, shuddering like a leaf in a hurricane.

It's only the dark shadow falling over you that snaps you from your trance.

Instinctively, you gasp and duck, throwing your hands up to cover your head as the presence of something huge and heavy looms just a few feet above your fragile skull. Heaving in a lungful of cold air, you tilt your head up gradually, your face pinched in anticipation.

You nearly pass out at the sight of the colossal, webbed palm hovering over you.

Flinching again, you screw your eyes shut and feel your body solidify like a wooden board, expecting a blow that'll crush you flat...

… Seconds pass...

The rain continues splashing against the vast expanse of flesh surrounding you, yet even through the incessant pounding of water on skin, you still register that not a single drop falls upon your head.

And neither does the sea monster's hand.

As the waves slosh and surge around your captor, it gradually starts occurring to you that you haven't yet become a red stain on its sternum.

With all the reluctance of swimming out over a black, oceanic trench, you emerge from behind your raised arms, lowering them slowly until you're once more gaping up at the underside of that enormous hand.

Each claw-tipped finger has to be longer than you are tall.

Stretched wide, the translucent webbing stitched to the side of each digit forms a better umbrella than the one you'd left behind on the beach, keeping you dry from the worst of the storm's deluge. A sudden rumble of thunder booms somewhere off in the distance, out over the open water, reminding you of the tempest's approach.

Despite the remnants of rain that trickle off your chin to get lost beneath the collar of your coat, your lips feel tremendously dry as you level your gaze down, away from the palm hovering above you until your eyes eventually land on the face of your cephalopod captor.

It, in turn, is staring back at you, eyes still wide and glowing ominously in the grey light.

The hand above you doesn't move, but the tentacles continue to propel you both along the coastline, methodically undulating beneath the deep, dark water.

You can feel their motion with every flex and twitch of the giant's abdomen.

A question bubbles at the back of your throat, yet the effort it takes to peel your lips apart is tremendous.

“What-” You immediately cut yourself off when the mer's blue sail perks up a little, hyper-attentive to the sound of your voice. Lips stuffed together, you wait, once again expecting it to make another move.

But after a long minute has passed, you realise it isn't going to. Instead, it only looks down at you, head cocked to one side, almost as if it's waiting for you to continue speaking.

Wetting your lips, you pry them apart again, tasting salt spray on your tongue.

“What.... are you guys?” you ask in a whisper, so soft that you wouldn't have thought the creature had heard you were it not for the quirk of its sail and the expansion of its pupils, each growing enough to nearly encompass the red of its irises.

Irrationally, you fear they could easily turn into a pair of black holes that might swallow you down into their depths if you peer at them for too long.

“Can you, uh... can you understand me?”

Again, the question is only a decibel away from being utterly silent.

For a long moment, the creature only stares back at you, its chin crooked forward onto its chest to keep you within its sights.

Mouth slightly agape, you wait...

And wait....

And wait...

But when no acknowledgement follows your question, you find the heart to ask another, one that's perhaps more pressing than its predecessor.

“Where are you taking me?”

This, at least, emerges from your throat as a louder sound.

It's just a shame it comes out as a sob.

Your theory that the beast can't understand you is suddenly scuppered however when, as if in direct response to your query, it tilts its head back until it's upside down, facing the direction you're headed.

Underneath you, vast muscles shift and contract, and with just a flick of its tentacles, the creature adjusts the course, turning its body effortlessly to face the towering cliffs.

Giving a gasp of alarm, you drop your leg to lay flat across its chest and plant both hands into its spongey flesh, keeping yourself steady when the movement nearly sends you toppling sideways.

Following the mer's gaze, you allow yourself a second to wonder why it's turned towards the cliffs, only to feel your heart suddenly careen forwards to smack against your ribcage as you register an all too familiar sight.

“That's-! That's the cottage!” you exclaim, briefly startled from your existential fear as the sea monster surges cleanly across the ocean on its back like an immense dreadnought cutting the waves in two. For just a moment, you forget yourself, drinking in the sight of the old fisherman's cottage that sits upon the cliff, plain as day, a beautiful splash of white shining out through the gloom of the storm.

You would have never thought that the ramshackle, little place could almost reduce you to tears of relief, but... here you are.

“I-I don't understand!” you gasp out, craning your neck back to gaze up at the cliffs looming over your head as you approach, “Why have yoU~OU-HEY!”

All at once, the familiar slickness of a gigantic tentacle slips gently, but quickly around your waist and you're pried from the mer's chest, flailing wildly for a moment before you remember that there's little to no point. Struggling hadn't helped you escape its clutches before, why should it now?

Gulping audibly, you stare down at the churning waves far below you as the creature rights itself and reaches six of its eight, writhing appendages towards the cliff face.

Powerful suckers crash into the solid rock and adhere themselves to it, and you can do nothing but hang from its grasp as the giant begins to crawl its way up towards the grassy plateau overhead.

It doesn't take much, just two immense pulls from its tentacles working in tandem and suddenly, you're being lifted over the lip of the cliff.

Bracing your hands on the slippery flesh wrapped around your waist, you watch the ground sweep by under your dangling leg as the beast hoists itself up after you, it's breaths coming in great, heaving swathes like a set of bellows intended to coax the sun to rise.

Without prompt, the mer carries you right up to the cottage, just as it had yesterday, almost to the back doorstep before it lumbers to a gradual halt, and, to your mounting confusion, it begins to lower you towards the ground.

The sole of your foot touches down on the sodden grass, yet the tentacle remains around your waist, holding you aloft where you'd likely collapse without the aid of your crutch or prosthetic, both of which are still lost to the sea by now, placing you at an even greater disadvantage than you already were. Not that it'd make a lick of difference, you suppose.

Once again, warmth and potential safety are only a few, hobbling steps away, but this time...

“You brought me back...” you murmur softly to the giant behind you, feeling the ground tremble as it settles its weight onto its arms, “Just like I asked you to...”

This time, something foreign and strangely familiar floats above the lay of fear bobbing inside your belly, something you'd almost forgotten you could feel. You hardly even recognise it for what it is at first, not until you use your arms to pull yourself around in the tentacle's loose grasp, slowly bringing yourself face to gigantic face with the mer.

You've turned towards potential danger, instead of trying to get away from it.

How could you have forgotten the tantalising lure of curiosity? Has it really been lost to you ever since the accident, only to return now, when you're standing on the precipice of something huge and unknown?

Still, the horror and disbelief attempts to force its way to the surface, howling at you to listen to your baser human instincts and continue fighting to escape. But rationality, at last, has found you. The mer is only blinking down at you, its pale chin hovering just a foot or so above the grass and its sail flickering around in the air behind its head, buffeted by the ever-strengthening gale. Behind it, the extensive tentacles stretch towards the edge of the cliff. All bar one.

You've only just realised that the tendril holding you is the same one you'd freed from the net.

Releasing a long, somber breath, you pinch your brows together and rove your gaze over the cross-hatch of pale, pink lines that have been left behind in the otherwise indigo flesh.

Your fingertips press down on the tentacle surrounding you in a quiet offer of sympathy.

The wound looks as though it'll scar, but the creature hasn't lost its limb entirely.

For that, you suppose, you can at least say you've done a good thing.

…

“Huh,” you murmur aloud, a tiny sound of surprised realisation.

When was the last time you did a good thing?

Blinking the rain off your lashes, you draw in a trembling breath and raise your eyes to meet the leviathan's stare.

It lays on its stomach, peering back at you with a curious tilt to its head, twitching the gills on its neck when you open your mouth to speak.

Before you can so much as utter a word, you're almost immediately interrupted by a loud, unexpected warble drifting up to your ears from somewhere below the cliff.

Your stomach flip-flops when you spot the sunny mer's head rising like its namesake over the edge, its fins perked towards you.

With one, almighty heave that sends sediment skittering down into the sea far below, it hauls itself up onto the plateau and starts dragging itself eagerly up towards the cottage, covering several dozen metres in the span of mere seconds.

Even with the storm dulling the landscape around you to deep, oppressive greys, somehow, the mer's golden tail manages to gleam like a solar flare bursting through the darkness of space.

With enormous effort, you drag your eyes from its undulating tail and try not to press yourself backwards into the tentacle's grasp as the second beast careens to a halt beside its counterpart, planting its massive palms in the grass and churning up the soil in its wake.

To your relief, it stops before it can bulldoze straight over you. The tremors rolling through the ground cease, and you're left gaping up into that wide, round face as it beams back at you, bending at the waist to bring itself closer, rainwater cascading off its rays and splashing against the dirt whilst it settles on its forearms in front of you, mirroring the pose of its ethereal friend.

Heart in your throat, you try to slow your breathing, warily eyeing it when its chin finally brushes the tufts of grass underneath it.

If you were to stretch out an arm, you'd wager you could touch the slippery surface just below its mouth.

Slowly, ever so slowly, those baleen teeth peel apart right in front of you, giving you the jarring impression that it might be seconds away from swallowing you whole.

Peering down that damp, cavernous gullet would have your knee collapsing out from underneath you, were it not for the tendril still keeping you aloft.

Before the panic can steal what little body heat still remains in your extremities however, you see it.

A flash of white, sitting slap-bang in the centre of the pink, fleshy tongue.

“No way,” you breathe incredulously, overcome by the disconcerting gnaw of deja-vu.

But sure enough, only a second later, the familiar, shiny plastic of your once-thought-lost prosthetic comes tumbling out from between the leviathan's jaws and lands with a dull 'splat' in the mud at your foot.

Mind reeling, you rove a daring look up the length of its body until you meet its pale stare again. “You... went back?" you croak, releasing a shuddering exhale, "For this?”

By way of its own, unusual reply, the sunny mer trills noisily, clicking its baleen together and shifting its weight until there's enough room for a colossal arm to creep forwards along the ground. Then, extending one, long finger, the beast nudges at your prosthetic, sliding it a few inches closer to you before withdrawing its hand and flicking its gaze between the lump of plastic and your face a few times, as if to silently convey a message it can't communicate through speech.

For a long moment, you can do little else but blink numbly at the limb in front of you as your brain tumbles over itself piecing together bits of information that have, until now, been nothing more than fleeting thoughts.

They brought you back. They brought your lost prosthetic back. Neither mer has caused you any real harm, barring the admittedly dicey incident where you thought you were about to be crushed under a gigantic fist for the crime of producing a blunt knife.

Even now you can feel the gentle pressure of a tentacle around your waist, just enough to keep your standing upright on the ground, yet never once does it grow tight enough to cause discomfort. You've seen the power behind those limbs. The strength they'd have to possess just to heave such a gargantuan body up over the side of a cliff. The control it must be exerting simply to keep itself from hurting you is...

Well. It's substantial, to say the least.

What monster would extend such a courtesy?

What monster would allow you to free its injured limb from a suffocating net, and return you to a place of safety?

Just what in the world have you stumbled upon?

Or perhaps, more fittingly, what in the world has just stumbled upon you?

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you drag your gaze up to their faces, each hovering so close to you now, you can feel the warmth of their combined breaths chasing away a bit of the chill in your muscles.

What you wouldn't give for a nice, hot bath right about now...

When you open your mouth, they immediately perk up, a twitch of their fins alerting you to their attention. You only hesitate to gather yourself before you manage to say anything that won't come out as a squeak.

“... Maybe I'm just going insane,” you begin, listening to the yellow mer croon at the sound of your voice, its smile stretching ever wider, “But I'm starting to think you guys aren't gonna hurt me...”

For several seconds, the only movement around you comes from the rain pelting rythmically against the wet earth.

But then, at the pace of a vast, white glacier, the moon-faced beast pushes its head along the grass until it's hovering right in front of you, so close that you can see a reflection of yourself gawking back at you from deep within its eyes.

Two slitted nostrils flare and wink shut several times near your face, blasting your hair back off your slick forehead.

Your trembling hands uncurl themselves from the fists they'd squashed themselves into.

“Maybe I really have gone insane...”

A shaking hand tentatively peels itself from your chest, and before you can think to come to your senses, you start reaching out across the meagre space separating you from the mer's head.

“Please don't bite me,” you whisper under your breath, mouthing 'please' over and over again and screwing your expression up into a tight ball until, with a soft gasp, you feel your hand make contact with the spongey skin on the creature's nose, just between its eyes.

Breathless, you open your mouth to try and draw in a trembling inhale, easing your brows apart and staring up at the sight of your fingers pressing tiny divots into the pale, malleable wall of flesh.

“Oooh~ my god,” you half sing, half whimper as the beast's eyes slip shut and it emits a contented rumble, sending quakes up your arm and into your chest, “This is crazy. This is... I mean... Shit, I don't know. But it's huge!”

Evidently taking umbrage to the fact that its friend is receiving attention and it isn't, the sunny mer warbles a loud complaint. The next thing you know, your moon friend's face has been bunted aside to make room for a grinning beast of equally epic proportions.

Taken aback, it's tentacle jerks open and you're dropped, landing on your backside in the mud with a startled yelp only to find your space thoroughly invaded by that same insistent, yellow snout.

A swift reprimand is dealt by the larger mer, who snaps its sharp teeth perilously close to the offender's orange fins, though the latter either doesn't care, or doesn't notice, too preoccupied with gazing down at you with a hopeful chirr.

“O-okay,” you hum, swallowing your heart back down into your chest and reaching up with a quivering arm, “Just... just steady, all right? You're a lot bigger than I am, remember...”

Where the first behemoth had waited for your hand to find its nose in your own time, the second seems a little more impatient, and before you know it, the warm, squidgy tip of its snout has all but shoved itself into your palm.

It takes every ounce of courage you have to spare to keep yourself from recoiling.

Instead, you force down the lump of nerves in your throat and allow your fingers to splay out across the yellow skin. At first, the mer's eyes grow wide and round at the sensation, as if it's overcome by wonder.

“There,” you utter, biting down apprehensively on your lower lip, “Happy?”

Yes, apparently.

The behemoth's immense chest expands and contracts around a sigh that nearly bowls you over onto your back with the force of it. The strong stench of fish doesn't help to keep you sitting upright either.

“Eugh,” you cough, flapping your free hand in front of your nose whilst you give the creature's flesh a steady pat, earning yourself a pleased hum in response, “Sorry I asked.”

If it's at all put out by your mild repulsion, the mer doesn't show it.

Gradually, the seconds tick over into a minute, and all the while, you keep your hand pressed against the curious nose, feeling the apprehension drain from your heart with every passing moment, and in spite of the cold, in spite of the terror you've felt over the past few days, even in spite of the twinge of your missing limb, your lips twitch up into an unmistakable, albeit tentative smile. The first, genuine smile you've plastered on your face since the accident.

The muscles in your cheeks bunch and ache a little, as if it's been just a little too long for them to remember what they're supposed to do.

There, at the very bottom of your chest, just below your thrumming heart, a tiny spark of wonder ignites.

But as soon as you notice its presence, your smile wavers, falling at the corners of your mouth.

“I don't know what you guys are or how the Hell you haven't been discovered yet but... whatever this is, it's big.” Slowly, your hand drifts away from the yellow mer, much to its apparent dismay as it opens its eyes and utters a petulant whine.

Shaking your head at it, you add, “It's too big for me...”

Perhaps if you were a marine biologist or... or an adventurer of some kind, you'd be beside yourself with excitement right now.

But as it is, you're neither of those things.

This is... They are someone else's discovery. Someone who would have half a clue of how to approach this from a sensible, level-headed point of view. This kind of thing doesn't happen to people like you.

You just want to be left alone.

“I don't know what you two want from me,” you sigh, raising a hand to scrub at the back of your neck, “Or whether you even want anything, but... but I don't think I'm... I'm not what you're looking for... Okay? I have to go home...”

Your statement doesn't seem to have much of an effect on either of them. The yellow behemoth keeps sending fleeting but pointed glances down at your hands whilst its counterpart remains still and silent, its eyelids dropping into a lazy blink.

“I have to go home,” you repeat, gesturing behind yourself at the house before pointing a finger between the two mer, “And you... you have to go to your home.” You lean sideways and indicate the ocean, prompting them to twist their heads around to follow the line of your finger.

“Do you understand?”

Apparently not, given the blank stares you're receiving.

Heaving out a sigh, you throw your hands up before leaning forwards and grabbing the prosthetic, grimacing when your fingers slide against the sticky, cooling saliva that clings to the plastic.

All of a sudden, the sky above you seem to grow darker, and at first, you assume the storm has taken a turn for the worse, but a quick glance skywards reveals that it's only your two new acquaintances looming closer, each watching with wide-eyed fascination as you begin pulling the prosthetic liner inside out and tug it over your stump, squeezing the air bubbles out of it as you go.

It'd be easier if you were standing, but with the mud still slick beneath you, you don't trust yourself not to simply slip over as soon as you attempt to get up.

Your audience continues to observe closely whilst you stick your residual limb into the socket and wriggle it around, ensuring the pin hasn't come loose in its journey from the beach back to you.

Once satisfied, you plant your feet against the ground and try to rise, but almost instantly, you realise it'll be a little more tricky than you first anticipated.

Your shoes slide jarringly across the wet grass as you try to gather purchase.

“Dammit,” you curse, making a second attempt, failing to notice the mers raising their heads to look at one another. You only realise they've moved when they both utter some kind of warbling croon, drawing your attention up to find them once again engaged in a back and forth of watery sounds that you have no hope of ever learning to decipher.

For a moment, the pace of your heart quickens slightly, wondering if, by some miracle, they understood you earlier and they're about to depart.

But that brief hope is extinguished almost a second later.

With no prior warning, the blue mer dips its head in the eerily human gesture of a nod before it returns its focus to you, shifting onto one elbow and reaching a mammoth hand out towards you.

“Woah, woah, wait! Hang on!” you blurt, waving your arms about as if you could deter it, but your efforts are all for nought.

Scrambling backwards only gets you a few inches of distance before you're promptly scooped up by smooth, cautious fingers and gently tilted sideways until you find yourself nestled safely within the cup of its palm.

Disoriented, you throw out a hand to grasp the creature's immense thumb and hold yourself steady, giving your head a rough shake to dislodge the hair plastered to your forehead.

No sooner have your regained your bearings than a soft pressure lands upon the crown of your head, pushing a yelp out of you at the jarring presence.

You instantly try to duck away from the pressure, lifting your hands to shove against cool skin, but it only follows your head down, nudging persistently into your hair.

“Hey-!” you start to complain, only to stuff your lips together and screw your face up when, of all things, the mer drags its entire, pale cheek across your nose and mouth.

Cracking open your eyes, you have to slam them shut again because the leviathan turns its head and slides its opposite cheek back across your face once more, further baffling you with the seemingly innocuous yet undeniably bizarre behaviour.

What in God's name is it doing?

Gasping out a breath, you're only slightly relieved when the mer lowers its attention and begins to nose at your chest instead, bowling you over onto your back as it rubs its chin very deliberately over the top of your leg and prosthetic.

“Gah! Stop that!” you complain, rolling over onto your stomach in an effort to escape the unwarranted attention, yet all this accomplishes is presenting your back to the mer, who wastes no time in giving this side of you the same treatment. A wheezing breath is pushed out of you as it squashes its cheek into your spine, and – to your mortification – starts to nuzzle into the fabric of your wax coat.

“Come on, man,” you whinge and reach out to grab at the webbing between its fingers, hoping to pull yourself away from the uncomfortable weight on your back, “You're gonna make me stink of fish!”

Just then, you pause, raising your head and squinting in disbelief through the mer's digits at the cottage, and the other behemoth lumbering towards it.

“What the-!? What the Hell are you doing!?”

Trapped by the face of the giant behind you, you're helpless but to watch on in disgruntled bemusement as the sunny mer flops its way right up to your grandfather's cottage and promptly drags the length of its body along the crumbling, eastern wall, not unlike a giant, slippery cat rubbing itself fondly between the ankles of its owner.

Lacking any apparent shame, it circles the cottage slowly, hauling itself along on its arms and exposing each wall to a rough scrape. You grimace when the poor, old stone creaks and groans in protest.

Struggling to raise yourself onto your hands and knees, you aim a shout at the yellow beast, trying to hear yourself think over the sudden croon of the mer nosing at the back of your neck.

“Oh, great! That's just great!” you yell, “Now the whole place is gonna reek of you guys! Do you mind!?”

Completing one, full circle of the cottage, the sun-faced giant finally peels itself from the walls and replies to you with a shake of its fins, slapping its fluke against the ground and giving you a smile that makes it look entirely too pleased with itself for your liking.

As if in response to your grumbling, a slick, wet tongue laps gingerly over the seam where your prosthetic is attached to your stump, pulling a shrill squeal from your lungs.

Indignant, you whip yourself over onto your back and address the enormous face hovering over you, jabbing a shaking finger at it and hollering, “All right! Enough! Put me down this instant!”

Slitted nostrils suck the air from around your head as the mer gives you a good, long sniff before, at long last, it obliges, though you imagine this is due to mere coincidence rather than any acknowledgement of your squeaky demand.

Still, it seems this mortifying and undignified ordeal might finally be coming to an end as you're lowered to the back step of the cottage and tilted gingerly from the behemoth's palm.

Back on solid ground, you stumble away from the hand, uttering a belated, "Thank you," and letting your spine hit the doorknob.

You were right. The entire house and your clothes are now saturated with the salty stench of the sea with a rather unpleasant, fishy undertone. You can only hope this rain will wash off the worst of the smell.

The dinky, little shower at the back of the cottage is suddenly seeming more and more like a good idea, and you're reminded of just how long it's been since you had a good, long scrub.

Sighing rigidly, you aim a hesitant glare between each of the giants, fumbling with the doorknob and twisting it open, kicking the door inwards with the back of your heel. “Right... This has been...” You hesitate, trying to find an adequate word to sum up the entire experience. Eventually, you can only settle on, “Weird.”

It isn't a lie. Not entirely. Terrifying would be another word you'd use.

“Thank you for bringing me back,” you add, nodding at the blue mer before flicking a quick smile at the yellow one, “And thanks for returning my prosthetic.”

The pair of them seem to preen, either because they've earned your attention, or because they can at least comprehend a word of gratitude when they hear it.

With slow, shuffling steps, you edge backwards through the threshold of the cottage, keeping your eyes trained on the giants outside. “Now... Uh, go... go home,” you tell them, once again pointing out at the sea beyond the cliffs.

They don't follow the line of your arm this time, apparently far more interested in keeping their eyes glued on your face, so you drop your limb to your side and take another step, grabbing the edge of the door as you pass.

It's odd. You actually feel awkward closing the entrance on them, especially given that they're still staring down at you in total silence, their fins pricked to attention as if they expect you to continue engaging with them in some undisclosed way.

Swallowing thickly, you offer one last, uncertain smile that comes and goes as swiftly as a blink, and at last, you close the door, listening to the subtle 'click' of the latch sliding into place.

Spinning around, you let your back thud into the wood behind you, sagging like a deflated balloon.

Being inside, unable to see the marine giants, your brain starts trying to convince you that they hadn't even been real in the first place.

Out of sight, and all that.

But as you shuffle unsteadily to the bathroom at the back of the cottage and pass by a window on your way, you happen to glance through a gap in the curtains and catch sight of a single, enormous red eye peering in at you.

“Okay,” you mutter to yourself, reaching out a shaky hand and tugging the curtains closed, “Where the hell did granddad keep the towels...”

#fnaf #Mermay #Sunnydrop #Moondrop #Daycare attendant #daycare attendant x y/n #reader #giant merman #g/t #gentle giants #Moon: We're going to make you and your nest smell like us #Moon: So everyone will know you're part of our territory #Y/n: I need to shower this smell off immediately #Moon: Wait

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