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Thread: The Mermaid’s Scale (SaltyIrishman x Scottie) Feb. 21 Event

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    Default The Mermaid’s Scale (SaltyIrishman x Scottie) Feb. 21 Event

    The seas were not what they used to be. They used to be sparkling and crystal clear, the cool waves and mighty ebb and flow pulling at the core of your being. Nowadays, they were filled with the trash of the land-dwelling humans. They spilled sticky black goop that covered your body, filled your gills, turned you blind and helpless and drifting. They threw all manner of refuse into the ocean, from the cups that fell apart into tiny white specks to the tangling, near indestructible nets. Nets, it was always nets.

    The humans had once hunted mermaids with nets. They would chase them down in their massive wooden ships and toss the rope net, then came the harpoons and the knives and the screaming. They would carve up the mermaid for their bones and their scales and their hair. Nobody knew what the humans wanted the mermaids’ bones and scales and hair for, only that they did, and they would do anything to get it. But after a while, the humans stopped hunting mermaids. There was an old tale that if a human found and mermaid’s scale and found the mermaid it belonged to, the mermaid could grant them three wishes. But carving is not finding, and a mermaid cannot grant wishes with her tail pulled apart and her torso drifting in the wake of a ship.

    But the nets still came. They still wrapped around the tails of mermaids, restricting their movement and tightening with every motion until you could not move, could not swim. And you sank. Or you were caught by a predator. It was almost worse than the hunting. At least when you were hunted you died quick. Shionasha had once had an aunt that had escaped being hunted. Missing an eye, three fingers, and half of a tail fluke, she wasn’t the image of beauty the other mermaids were. But she was strong. And she was respected. And when she died, she was given a warrior’s funeral: eyes covered in kelp, she was drifted out past the great reefs and under the stars, where her soul could join their ancestors and her body could feed the sea.

    In any case, humans had changed the seas. They had always had an impact, but it had been especially bad for the last century or so. These thoughts plagued Shionasha’s mind as she swam along the ocean floor chasing fish. Snagging one with her nimble green fingers, she stuffed it into her fanged mouth and chewed. The bioluminescent scales on her humanoid half flashed and her entire body shimmered. With a powerful beat of her tail, she leapt out of the water. At once, she was a dolphin, leaping from the waves. Once under the water, the glamour shimmered once more and disappeared. She always spent the mornings like this, catching fish and leaping. But today she had a different plan. She had found an old kelp-scroll in the bibliotheca about forms. Most she already knew, but there were three that were new to her: a monstrous squid-like creature called the Kraken, a serpentine beast with horns and claws named a Lung, and a spell that could make a mermaid look nearly human.

    Finding a hidden inlet, she flopped upon the beach for a moment before her gills closed and her seldom-used lungs filled with air. Dragging herself to a rock to sit upright, she performed the third incantation. Instantly the change was obvious. Her sea-green skin was now pale pinkish-white, like the meat of an abalone. Her fins had disappeared from her arms, leaving them strangely bare. Her teeth her straight and white, her eyes were somewhat smaller than before, and her hair had changed from black to a clownfish orange. There were strange darker dots all over her body. Her tail too, had changed. Gone were the dullish green and brown stripes. Now it was longer and thinner, less muscular, with marvelous golden scales that overlapped more. Her flukes were more like a fish’s than a shark’s, somewhat transparent and less powerful. She set to studying this new body.
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  2. #2
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    The harsh chill of the morning had subsided as the day continued. The man standing on the pebbled shoreline of Howth had a tarp bag in one hand and a grabber in the other. He let his gaze follow the horizon as the sun fought tooth and nail to be seen through the clouds. Dara was no stranger to those sorts of clouds. He had fought against them himself many a morning on the Biddy Met. The weathered boat bobbed proudly at the docks as her crew had finished their daily takings. The sea had not been the most generous of late. The fish were few and far between and many times they picked up more plastic in their nets than live creatures.

    Dara let out a deep sigh that rattled through his ribs. He truly adored the sea from the small splashes of salt on your skin as you haul in nets to the gloomy depths that hungrily hid the bright orange nets the moment they were cast. The man would often find himself watching the nets sink out of view and would feel a small shiver of fear hit his stomach every time. It was what lay beneath that scared him. His nan had told him the first time he set foot on the Biddy Met that “them mermaids will get ya, son. You best be nice to em and they may give you a wish or three.” The long past womans cackle still brushed Dara’s skull and he let a small forlorn smile tug on his lips.

    His nan was surely a force to be reckoned with...but the woman had believed in all sorts. From fair folk to banshees to the great mysterious mermaid. His dad had frequently scoffed at his mothers suggestion, stating that with 40 years on a ship he’d never seen a single tail burst the surface! Dara tried to have the stoicness of his dad but often found himself sinking into those superstitions that his nan drilled into him. Never walking through a fae circle, always saluting a solitary magpie and don’t be going on the water on Whitsuntide...for that is when the evil in the water is the greatest.

    The deafening scream of a nearby seagull brought Dara back to his senses. He had a job to do. Well, not really a job. Just something the man felt compelled to do after his time on the boats. The plastic on the beaches was getting worse and Dara had witnessed its problem on the sea first hand. Feeling like part of the problem, he spent some of his spare time collecting the plastic and freeing any poor animal that he came across. He wouldn’t admit it but it also helped him to get his mind off things at home. His mum had been taken to the hospital a month back and she was still there. With his father long gone, the Harrington household was a quiet one. The silence was too much for him at times.

    The sea was a solace for him. Here, he could help the sea and be close to it. Allowing the grumbling tide to soothe him. Dara twirled the grabber and set about on the first area of the beach. He would collect all plastic he could find on the stretch, all the way up to and including the tiny hidden beach. The beach was difficult to get to but as a hotspot for campers and such, the area was often littered with bottles and cans. Dara made his way towards that small hidden inlet, whistling an almost cheerful tune as he went.


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    Shionasha heard the man before she saw him. A tune was being whistled on the breeze, which had become decidedly colder in her new form. The tune was old, an easily recognizable and repeatable one. For a moment, she nearly joined in. She didn’t know how her singing would be in this form, but something told her it would sound nicely with the man’s jaunty tune.

    Wait. The man. As in, a human. As in, might gut her. She made to leap in the water, but her tail slapped uselessly against the beach. This tail was weak, and the most she could do was inch toward the water, toward freedom. She nearly cursed, nearly dropped the form for her original. But something stopped her. Something in the strangely dense bones of this form told her to wait. To greet the man. She may come out of this encounter victorious. A small voice cried out that forms influence your mind, but it was smothered by the whistle. In any case, I could turn back and kill him, she thought. Her original form was more than capable of taking on a single human, alone.

    So she began to sing along with the tune. It was an old song, one she had heard long ago. A mermaid need only once to hear a song to memorize it. It was their nature to sing, like it was a gull’s nature to fly and a fish’s nature to swim. Her voice was high and clear, hauntingly beautiful with a magical edge. So that is what this form is for, she thought, not swimming or fighting, but for singing. It may prove to be a useful form yet.
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    The tune continued to gurgle from his throat as he picked his way over the beach. Plastic bottle after crisp packet after bin bag fragment was collected into the tarp bag. The bag slowly grew in size as Dara let the crashing sound of the waves take over his mind. Drowning out any thoughts of his mother or his past.

    The small journey to the hidden beach required concentration. Leaping from stone to stone, it brought him back to his childhood. His father brought him to the hidden cove many times, it was the perfect place to skip stones and watch the sun go down. His father would often take Dara on his shoulders and leap over the stones. As a child, Dara thought the stones were miles apart. His father was a giant in his mind and Dara would often tell his nan that the man could jump from island to island. The cove held so many precious memories which is why Dara always finished his night there. There he would clear up the beach and watch the sun, if it had broken through the clouds, come down.

    As he leapt off the last crossing stone to the edge of the hidden area, he heard accompaniment to his whistling. The lyrics drifted to him on the breeze and Dara froze. The voice was eerie, it struck a chord deep within his soul and something in his mind told him to turn around. But his curiosity had control of his feet. Dragging him closer to the voice and the strange form on the beach. Perching on a rock, a creature sat with pale skin and...a tail. Dara’s brow furrowed as he moved closer, at first believing his mind to be playing tricks on him. “Miss...You alright?” He called, in case the woman was sunning herself in the non-existent sunshine. Another few steps forward and his vision cleared, confirming to his brain that it was a tail.

    The creature appeared to be a human-like goldfish and Dara took a step back in fear. Stumbling over the pebbled beach and tripping himself. Hitting the ground harshly, the man tried to push himself backwards from the creature with his grabber raised high to defend himself. “W...What are you?”


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    Her bright eyes snapped to the man. He was somewhat grungy, and in his left hand he carried a bag of human refuse. She cocked her head and her singing quieted. Her tail splashed in the water for a moment before she answered.

    “I’m fine. You?” She inched forward, intent on seeing what a human was really like when he fell backwards. He scuttled away, raising his stick contraption as if to ward her off. He was gripped by fear, and croaked out,

    “W... what are you?” She wrinkled her nose at the insult. Her silvery eyes bored into the human’s.

    “You mean to tell me you don’t know?” Her voice was almost a snarl. “Of course, we are a fair bit rarer than we used to be. Can’t imagine why.” She said pointedly. The glass-green sea boiled as it crashed ashore, almost as if it was in tune with her anger. She kept him pinned with a glare until he could answer.
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    She answered so nonchalantly like his presence caused not a single care in that pretty little head. As she inched forward, he continued to scoot backwards the grabber shaking as fear started to trickle through his veins.

    “I...I’ve never seen anything like you before….” His words trailed off. Why on earth was she snapping at him? She was acting like every single person in the world should know what she was. If the thing before him was a woman...he’d call her pompous. Silver eyes bore into his fearful gaze and Dara froze momentarily. His grandmothers' voice snaked through his skull.

    “them mermaids will get ya, son. You best be nice to em…”

    “I...I’m sorry...I’m confused.” Dara pulled himself further from the strange creature until he felt at a safe distance. Momentarily letting go of his tarp bag to press his palm against the pebbled beach and push himself to stand. A crisp packet used the picking wind to violently wriggle free from the bag. Almost forgetting about the creature for a second, Dara reflexively followed the plastic to force it back into his tarp bag. Cursing gently under his breath, “Pesky buggars” he scowled at the plastic.

    The man paused before bringing his attention back to the woman. “Are you one of them mermaids?” The distance now between them had gifted him the tiniest warmth of courage.


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    “ I...I’m sorry...I’m confused.” He scuttled even farther away. Letting go of his sack, he stood, shakily, as if he was going to bolt at any moment. She couldn’t help but laugh. He reminded her of a hammerhead shark. Supposedly dangerous, but too nervous to try anything. He had the attention span of a cod, though, as he reached out with his stick and snagged a piece of trash that attempted an escape from his bag. Then, as if just now remembering he was in the middle of a conversation, he turned back to her.

    “Are you one of them mermaids?”

    “Aye. I’m a mermaid. And you’re a human. Funny how that works, isn’t it?” She tilted her head to the side like a predatory bird.

    “I’ve never seen a human collecting their own garbage. Have you all finally come to your senses or are you special?” Her arm trailed through a tide pool, her fingers creating small ripples in the seawater. A crab crawled off of her rock and across the beach.
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    The moment she confirmed that she was a mermaid, Dara felt his jaw drop. It was one thing to have the thought scurrying in his mind, but he had never really let it settle in the crevices of his skull. Mermaids were an old wives tale, something his nan muttered to him and something that he had only really seen in films.

    "Well...Y'know." The man mumbled as he looked down at his bag of rubbish. "W..We try to do it in big bunches but that's only on the 3rd Thursday of the month....I like to come down and pick it up most evenings of late." The man lifted his gaze to the mermaid confused as to why he was being so open with this creature before him.

    "My nan told me about mermaids when I was only a wean." Dara told the mermaid the truth as he kept a firm grip on his bag of rubbish. She said that you were mean, sneaky creatures that would only give wishes to kind-hearted folk. The creature before him was certainly a snarky one but Dara didn't know if he could foresee the creature giving him any wishes.

    His mothers face flitted through his mind and his next words came out in stumble. "You have a pretty singing voice." He said in an attempt to be kind to the terrifying creature before him.


  9. #9
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    The man’s jaw dropped and her lip curled. As if he had reason to be shocked. This man was beginning to sour her mood.

    "Well...Y'know." He mumbled as he looked down at his sack of garbage. "W..We try to do it in big bunches but that's only on the 3rd Thursday of the month....I like to come down and pick it up most evenings of late." His eyes drifted back up to meet hers. His words were low and nearly inaudible, like the sound of a stingray’s wings flapping. He was obviously nervous. And with good reason, she thought. You could lay off the sarcasm.

    "My nan told me about mermaids when I was only a wean." There was clearly more to that statement, but she didn’t push it.

    “She sounds like an intelligent woman. My own grandmother taught me about humans.” There. Figure out the rest of that statement yourself. His next words came out rushed, as if he was in a hurry to get it out and wasn’t too sure if it was a good idea.

    “You have a pretty singing voice." She was slightly taken aback by the compliment. She had heard tales of human men, how they were fast and strong and delightfully dull and how they sank quickly, but never kind. Cunning, interesting, yes, but she did not expect a human to be nice. Her shoulders tensed and her tail quit splashing. Only for a moment, but the moment was jarring to her.

    “Thanks.” Was all she croaked out. She could feel her face becoming unbearably hot.
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  10. #10
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    Her quick remark about his grandmother should have sounded like a compliment but in some twisted way, the creature made it sound like a threat. That he was somehow the human that her grandmother taught her about. He was starting to mentally route out his escape. He could try and scurry over the rocks behind him, something about her need to stay close to the water made him think that she couldn't really follow him.

    But then again, would he risk it. He wouldn't want to be the first human killed by a mermaid cos he was stupid enough to not know that they could fly? His thoughts were briefly interrupted by the sudden stop of her tail splashing against the water....then the flush of the mermaid's cheeks. Pink crept up from her neck to paint her cheeks and Dara found himself smiling back at her.

    "I rarely meet another that knows that song." He said with a small proud smile. It was true, the men on his boat knew the tune but not the words. They said that the words had long been lost to the sea but for some reason, Dara knew some of them. Perhaps it was his grandmother...or maybe his grandfather. The man had passed when Dara was just young but he could faintly remember the deep booming voice of a man with bushy eyebrows and a beard that always had a pipe hanging out of it.

    "My granddad sang it...I think. I only know vague words of it now...Can you sing it again?" He asked innocently. If it was something he could hold onto from his family, he would grab at it. He would commit those words to his skull and etch them there to remain forever.


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