Maybe Mermaids Are Real (Dahlia and Troylus) @grim.
Dec 6, 2015 19:30:40 GMT -5
Post by troylus on Dec 6, 2015 19:30:40 GMT -5
Troylus’ heart felt a mixture of elation and regret as the sun sank towards the horizon. He looked forward to his brief shore leave when he would see his parents and help take care of them. It made his heart ache to see how little they had by way of comforts, no matter how much he scrimped and saved of his wages to send to them. He prayed silently that this time his mother had bought the pain medicine he’d told her to buy to ease his father’s aching back, rather than spending so much on nice ingredients to make him a welcome home meal. He relished his mother’s home cooked meals after so many months at sea eating the same old stuff day after day, but the delicious and lovingly prepared food tasted like ashes when he realised his father was suffering as a result of it.
Troylus always felt a grief leaving the ocean, even if it was just for a few weeks. The stillness of the land beneath his bare feet felt strange. He recalled as a small child how it had been the other way around; the pitching and rolling of the deck had made him ill until he got his sea legs. He smiled to himself quietly, and hauled the net over the side of the ship that was docked on the small pier. The rest of the crew were busy on and below deck, securing and packing things away. He’d been given the task of checking the nets and making repairs, something he’d done since he was a boy. Small dextrous fingers made the task easier than his now large, somewhat clumsy ones. But at least now his hands were so calloused and strong that they didn’t bleed at all, even after hours of punishing work.
Movement on the shoreline caught his attention and his eyes, usually a blue-grey, but currently reflecting the deep blues of the ocean at sunset, gazed up beyond the rocks. There she sat. A vision of beauty; her dark hair swirling in the wind, and the sight made his heart skip a beat. The fishing net in his hands suddenly forgotten, slipped to the wooden pier, pooling at his feet. He thought for a moment that she couldn’t be real; she must be an apparition, a sailor’s fanciful imaginings of mermaids, and other creatures of such beauty that they lure men to their deaths on the rocks. Even though she sat on land, her hair reminded him of the seaweed rolling under the waves. Her body, tall, lean and muscular made him dream of swimming next to her, brushing against that sun kissed skin as they played beneath the waves.
He knew he shouldn’t stare, his mother would have scolded him terribly, but that only applied to women of this world, surely? He would be forgiven for being held in the spell of this creature, he hoped. And besides, he was helpless and couldn’t take his eyes from her even if he wanted to. She seemed to be looking at him now, at least from this angle, and he felt himself sinking into the depths of her soul. If he was smitten before, staring at those eyes full of loneliness and pain, made him well and truly sunk; hook, line and sinker. He wanted to do something, anything to make that sadness in her expression leave her, even for a moment.
His line of sight was broken by an ugly snaggle toothed face, inserting itself most intrusively into his vision. The first mate poked him in the chest hard, and then pointed at the dropped net.
“Don’t pay you to daydream, boy. Stop slackin’.” The man had to raise himself on his toes to compensate for Troylus’ height, and even then he wasn’t able to even get close to his eye level. Just two years ago he’d towered over Troylus, and he’d found it much easier to push him around.
Troylus blinked stupidly a few times, trying to bring himself back to the present. It was too much for the first mate, and he struck backhanded across the face, leaving a bright red marks where each of the rings he wore dug into Troylus’ skin. The boy winced slightly, but bowed his head submissively as the first mate shouted on and on. He took the abuse, the way the rocks on a shoreline bear the brunt of the pounding waves. When finally he paused for breath, Troylus reached down and hauled the net back up, the muscles of his arms and shoulders bulging with the strain.
The first mate, seemingly placated, turned to look at what had captured Troylus’ attention. When he saw the girl he grimaced with foul desire, running his tongue along his teeth. He chuckled, “Oh I see what you was lookin’ at. Pretty little thing, too good for the likes of you. Might have me a piece of that.” He turned his back on Troylus, and started down the pier.
“No.” The word came out clear and strong, carried by the wind all the way to the sitting girl. Troylus dropped the net and stepped towards his superior officer. “Leave her alone, sir.” He knew all too well the man’s proclivities and he couldn’t allow him to even go near her, or disturb her, even though he knew the consequences of standing up to him.
The officer turned back and strode towards the boy, fuming at his insolence. “How dare you tell me what to do.” Troylus lifted his head defiantly, glad to take the brunt of the man’s anger if it meant keeping him away from his mermaid. He bore the repeated blows with even more stoicism than the first, barely even registering them. The first mate ran out of breath, and panted, more furious now that he couldn’t cow the boy. “I’ll be telling the captain about this. Expect a floggin’, boy.” With a hard glare he turned on Troylus and climbed back onto the trawler, disappearing below deck.
Troylus looked around for the girl, desperately hoping to have another glimpse of her beauty, a warm glow of triumph in his chest at defending her from unwanted advances.
Troylus always felt a grief leaving the ocean, even if it was just for a few weeks. The stillness of the land beneath his bare feet felt strange. He recalled as a small child how it had been the other way around; the pitching and rolling of the deck had made him ill until he got his sea legs. He smiled to himself quietly, and hauled the net over the side of the ship that was docked on the small pier. The rest of the crew were busy on and below deck, securing and packing things away. He’d been given the task of checking the nets and making repairs, something he’d done since he was a boy. Small dextrous fingers made the task easier than his now large, somewhat clumsy ones. But at least now his hands were so calloused and strong that they didn’t bleed at all, even after hours of punishing work.
Movement on the shoreline caught his attention and his eyes, usually a blue-grey, but currently reflecting the deep blues of the ocean at sunset, gazed up beyond the rocks. There she sat. A vision of beauty; her dark hair swirling in the wind, and the sight made his heart skip a beat. The fishing net in his hands suddenly forgotten, slipped to the wooden pier, pooling at his feet. He thought for a moment that she couldn’t be real; she must be an apparition, a sailor’s fanciful imaginings of mermaids, and other creatures of such beauty that they lure men to their deaths on the rocks. Even though she sat on land, her hair reminded him of the seaweed rolling under the waves. Her body, tall, lean and muscular made him dream of swimming next to her, brushing against that sun kissed skin as they played beneath the waves.
He knew he shouldn’t stare, his mother would have scolded him terribly, but that only applied to women of this world, surely? He would be forgiven for being held in the spell of this creature, he hoped. And besides, he was helpless and couldn’t take his eyes from her even if he wanted to. She seemed to be looking at him now, at least from this angle, and he felt himself sinking into the depths of her soul. If he was smitten before, staring at those eyes full of loneliness and pain, made him well and truly sunk; hook, line and sinker. He wanted to do something, anything to make that sadness in her expression leave her, even for a moment.
His line of sight was broken by an ugly snaggle toothed face, inserting itself most intrusively into his vision. The first mate poked him in the chest hard, and then pointed at the dropped net.
“Don’t pay you to daydream, boy. Stop slackin’.” The man had to raise himself on his toes to compensate for Troylus’ height, and even then he wasn’t able to even get close to his eye level. Just two years ago he’d towered over Troylus, and he’d found it much easier to push him around.
Troylus blinked stupidly a few times, trying to bring himself back to the present. It was too much for the first mate, and he struck backhanded across the face, leaving a bright red marks where each of the rings he wore dug into Troylus’ skin. The boy winced slightly, but bowed his head submissively as the first mate shouted on and on. He took the abuse, the way the rocks on a shoreline bear the brunt of the pounding waves. When finally he paused for breath, Troylus reached down and hauled the net back up, the muscles of his arms and shoulders bulging with the strain.
The first mate, seemingly placated, turned to look at what had captured Troylus’ attention. When he saw the girl he grimaced with foul desire, running his tongue along his teeth. He chuckled, “Oh I see what you was lookin’ at. Pretty little thing, too good for the likes of you. Might have me a piece of that.” He turned his back on Troylus, and started down the pier.
“No.” The word came out clear and strong, carried by the wind all the way to the sitting girl. Troylus dropped the net and stepped towards his superior officer. “Leave her alone, sir.” He knew all too well the man’s proclivities and he couldn’t allow him to even go near her, or disturb her, even though he knew the consequences of standing up to him.
The officer turned back and strode towards the boy, fuming at his insolence. “How dare you tell me what to do.” Troylus lifted his head defiantly, glad to take the brunt of the man’s anger if it meant keeping him away from his mermaid. He bore the repeated blows with even more stoicism than the first, barely even registering them. The first mate ran out of breath, and panted, more furious now that he couldn’t cow the boy. “I’ll be telling the captain about this. Expect a floggin’, boy.” With a hard glare he turned on Troylus and climbed back onto the trawler, disappearing below deck.
Troylus looked around for the girl, desperately hoping to have another glimpse of her beauty, a warm glow of triumph in his chest at defending her from unwanted advances.
