nicholas d. wolfwood (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
anthophilia) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fourstrings2023-05-13 10:09 am
anthophilia) wrote in fourstrings2023-05-13 10:09 am
the deeps have music soft and low
[
There are old stories about animals now long-extinct. Books and pictures and recordings, yeah, but the ones the ones Nico likes best are the tales. Tortoises and hares having races, trickster spiders. The kinds of stories that tell you stuff that still makes sense even now the animals are gone. Like: Foxes know many things, and Hedgehogs know one big thing.
The Fox in him knows that mermaids belong firmly in the Stories category. They’re not real – first of all, they’re part fish part human, and humans are mammals, and that’s a combination that just doesn’t work. They always seem to be girls in the stories, too, pretty girls with beautiful voices, and pretty much every kind of animal needs male and female ones to work, so if mermaids had been real they would have died out pretty quick. And then there’s the quick little Fox cub thought that adds: mermaids are for girls. Boys don’t devour page after page of mermaid stories, boys don’t look out over the shimmering ocean – bigger now than it ever was, according to old maps, ringing the remaining arid land – and wonder if there are beautiful people with beautiful voices out there, fins flashing in the harsh light of the sun when they breach the surface, just waiting for the one kid who believes enough to find them.
The Hedgehog might win this round, because the Hedgehog knows that at least one mermaid is real. Nico’s met him. He’s got eyes that are a shade of blue that sits perfectly between they sky and the sea, hair like gold, and a voice just as lovely as the stories say. Sometimes he sings a wordless little tune that feels very, very old, but mostly it’s the way he laughs. Nico met him one day when he paddled out from the orphanage in a little boat he definitely wasn’t meant to be in, determined to catch fish because since The Corporation moved into the area they’ve been scooping up all the fish, leaving the nets mostly empty, and everyone’s hungry and sick of kelp and the Nutrition Bars that taste of nothing and feel like crumbly plasticine in your mouth. It was night, obviously, because he’d really get it if he got caught doing it in the day, and a wave tipped the little boat over and he fell in. It had been too dark to see, the current churning him around until he didn’t know which way was up, and he’d just about resigned himself to the sad fact that he’d not only died but lost the orphanage a dinghy when he felt two strong arms scoop him up and swim him back to the surface. Salt stung his eyes too badly to see right away, but the first thing he heard was a voice saying whoopsie!.
He's pretty sure creatures from fairy stories done say things like whoopsie. Or oh, wow, which is what the mermaid said after he’d righted the boat, popped Nico back in it, and asked him what he was doing all the way out here all by himself, little guy?
The mermaid had pushed the boat back to shore, keeping it safe from the waves. He’d hmm-ed sympathetically as Nico told his tale, said it sounded rough, told Nico almost nothing about himself until just before he left. What’s your name, Nico asked, and the mermaid smiled him and said something that sounded like a wave breaking over rocks. The best he could manage at copying it was Vash.
He hauled the little dingy back into the shed, dried off, slipped into bed. The next day he might have been busted, tired and salty and guilty in front of Miss Mel’s sharp eyes, except everyone was distracted by how full the nets were. Enough fish for everyone, even extra to dry for later, and a few things tangled in there like fat crabs that didn’t usually turn up in the nets. Even better, after a few weeks The Corporation left the waters around the orphanage. Conditions were too rough, they said. Their nets kept coming back up shredded.
Nico went down to the sea every day after that, looking for his friend. Saw nothing for weeks and weeks, half convinced himself it had just been a crazy dream before he finally saw Vash again. They started visiting after that, Nico slipping down to the sea when the sun was just starting to set. Sometimes the scales on Vash’s tail would look slightly different colours, like they changed with what used to be seasons. Sometimes he’d have more fins than usual, until he looked like someone had just gone nuts sticking extra on him all over, but he was always beautiful, always kind. The thought of seeing Vash was the high point of every day – right up until The Corporation declared that the child Nicholas D. Wolfwood had achieved record scores on his aptitude tests and took him away. It was supposed to be a happy day: he’d get training, lodgings, food, and a steady job at the end of it. All he could think was that he wasn’t going to get a chance to say goodbye to Vash.
He’s not usually down in the research labs. He’s security. Material and Intellectual Property Division, which pretty much means that when competition arises or employees look like they might be about to make a fuss, spill some secrets, he’s sent out to bust knees or heads or whatever bits keep the machinery of The Corporation running smooth and unchallenged. There’s no fear that anyone from security will pull any of this shit, of course; indoctrination is thorough, and effective. But sometimes they get researchers in later in their lives, people who’ve lived outside and have some funny ideas. One of them is apparently expressing some “ethical concerns” over the latest discovery, and Wolfwood is supposed to set him straight or, failing that, see to his tragic disappearance. People drown all the time. Nearly happened to him when he was a kid, after all. No big mystery if a researcher, already obsessed with the sea, went missing out there.
But he gets curious. There’s another animal story about that, to do with cats and bad endings. Anyway, he needs to know what he’s dealing with if he’s gonna be effective, so he lets himself into the empty lab at night for a little look-see. There’s a big pool, a system of mechanisms that look like they’re used to open and close different parts of it. And in the centre, a big glass tube holding what’s gotta be The Discovery. Blue like the midpoint between sea and sky, bright as gold, beautiful even if his tail and fins are a duller shade than Wolfwood ever remembers them being.
He drops his cigarette. He’ll have to remember to pick that up, if he doesn’t want to get busted. ]
Vash?
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It's a little weird - Vash is wet, obviously, and he's not exactly cold but he's a lot cooler than most people, and that should be a pretty big reminder that the person Wolfwood's kissing isn't human (that and the flick of his tail). But his lips are soft and his hands come up to cradle Wolfwood's face and that just feels perfect. He wants to open his mouth to it, to see if the inside of Vash's mouth is any warmer then the rest of him, but - one thing at a time. He's got a mission here, and now that one childhood wish is fulfilled maybe he can get on with it before the next shift clocks in and he gets busted making googly eyes at a fishman. ]
Huh. Little me had the right idea.
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but that makes him cock his head to one side, eyes brightening. ]
You wanted to kiss me back then, too?
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[ Well, at least he hadn't been as obvious as he'd worried about sometimes. The thought makes him grin. ]
You were right out of a fairy tale. Handsome, saved my life, kept coming back and being kind to me when you didn't have to. The folks at the orphanage were plenty kind, but it was their job. Means a lot to an orphan to have people who care just because. And don't think I didn't figure out who messed with the nets until The Corporation moved out, let us get a decent catch again. You were like the magical princess and the handsome prince all rolled into one. What little kid wouldn't get a crush? Sometimes I used to wish I could grow up faster, just to have a shot with you.
[ A laugh, low and husky. ]
Never really got around to worrying about the logistics of someone who can't live in the sea trying to shack up with someone who can't live on land.
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but! shack... up? it's a human phrase vash has never heard before, and he takes a moment to puzzle over it, head cocking to one side as he shapes the words silently to himself. hmmm! he knows what a shack is, and if it's something wolfwood wants to do with him...?
oh! ]
You wanted to build a house with me? [ delighted! nevermind the issue of logistics -- maybe they can build a house that's halfway in the ocean and halfway out. ]