Captain Breacan Sanchez (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} spared_to_sea) wrote in ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} 30_somethings,@ 2008-05-30 15:11:00 |
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Captain Breacan Sanchez.
Fandom: Original Character/mythology/fairy lore.
Author: Lee (or Tosh).
Theme(s): Table Angst-# 13. mermaid.
Rating: Maybe pgr.
Disclaimer: Character belongs to me and history.
Critiques: Sure.
Word Count: 814.
There were times, when he could not so easily leave the sub-aqueous home forced upon him after his drowning. He had to walk upon the land as any Selkie. Wait for the ninth day, which would allow him to remain on land for a year and a day. As he grew into his change, he could stay for however long he did not eat of land salt. Or, for how ever long he could ignore a tidal moon calling him back.
The change had not been easy for him. There was a part of him which believed he had gone quite mad with the change. Of course, Poseidon believed it was an act of kindness at the time, and the God dismissed the tenuous mental state of the Prince.
With his change Breacan had to abide to Selkie rule. Selkie. It was just a word to him. He didn’t know what they were. Where they lived. All of it frightened him and he kept it hidden under a façade of cold, stoic looks. He learnt the first rule, to keep his ‘fur skin’ hidden well when he walked on land. The second rule, regarded the ritual of seven tears in the sea.
If a person did the ritual, and he was close by, he would be compelled to attend to their needs. He learnt if they did the ritual too early for traditional times, he could bend the rules and ignore the summons. But if they did the ritual early and stole his skin, he was in trouble…
He couldn’t hide his fear; he looked around and his ‘skin’ nowhere to be found. It should be where he had placed it, underneath the very rock he was standing on. Breacan, tried to ignore the rising panic of thoughts telling him someone had stolen it. Finally he had to believe it.
Breacan glared. Stalked around the rocks, using his senses of heighten smell to pick up something, anyone. Suddenly he smelt it, and reeled in shock. It had been a while since he had first hand knowledge of it, but he knew it, knew what it was. He paled; someone had done the perquisite Selkie summoning ritual, right on the rocks, and taken his skin with them. The Danish prince sat heavily on the rocks, trying to suck in air and failing to do so. Nobody could help him now, not even Poseidon. He was on his own.
It seemed unthinkable. Here he was minding his own business, had to urgently get back to the court for a message to Poseidon and some ill-mannered, brash, individual does the ritual to demand an affair. And they had not only done it all too early, they also stole his Selkie fur.
It was an outrage.
For a full half a minute Breacan cursed in Selkie, switched to swearing in Norse, used a few choice English words and finally lowered his head in his heads. It was not even midsummer; the person could not even wait. There was a few months left before he had to endure being molested by aggressive, unhappy individuals needing attention. If they only did the ritual he could ignore it, especially since it was done early. That’s what supposed to happen. But no, this one had obviously decided to get a head start on their peers, and resort to the old trick of stealing a Selkie skin to get themselves early attention.
What kind of person does that?!
It did not matter. The person had his skin and he was bound to them till he got it back. Breacan knew what he had to do; he had to seduce to retrieve back the precious item. He did not have time to plan an attack to steal it back, he had to advance and advance quickly. Working in his favor was the Selkie allure.
He sighed. Why would anyone do this? He visibly screwed up his face in disgust when the mental answer returned: They were ugly, shrewish, and had to resort to vile trickery to get someone. The mental thought followed with mental visuals of himself trying to seduce a Medusa-looking creature, who was an incredibly selfish, spoilt, brat.
His stomach churned. His lips pouted into a sulk and he automatically curled his hand tightly into a clenching fist. Breacan was seconds away, from pitching an hysterical hissy-fit of grand proportions. Instead of giving into the base urge, he remained cool headed and vowed when he got back to the Sea-court, he was going to punch Poseidon’s lights out.
There was nothing he could do but face the evitable. The quicker he got it over and done with the better it would be. The captain let out a long, suffering sigh, and slowly walked off the beach to find the selfish twit… unhappy, romantic, individual…. who had summoned a Selkie by stealing his skin.
It was the longest walk Breacan had ever taken.
Fandom: Original Character/mythology/fairy lore.
Author: Lee (or Tosh).
Theme(s): Table Angst-# 13. mermaid.
Rating: Maybe pgr.
Disclaimer: Character belongs to me and history.
Critiques: Sure.
Word Count: 814.
There were times, when he could not so easily leave the sub-aqueous home forced upon him after his drowning. He had to walk upon the land as any Selkie. Wait for the ninth day, which would allow him to remain on land for a year and a day. As he grew into his change, he could stay for however long he did not eat of land salt. Or, for how ever long he could ignore a tidal moon calling him back.
The change had not been easy for him. There was a part of him which believed he had gone quite mad with the change. Of course, Poseidon believed it was an act of kindness at the time, and the God dismissed the tenuous mental state of the Prince.
With his change Breacan had to abide to Selkie rule. Selkie. It was just a word to him. He didn’t know what they were. Where they lived. All of it frightened him and he kept it hidden under a façade of cold, stoic looks. He learnt the first rule, to keep his ‘fur skin’ hidden well when he walked on land. The second rule, regarded the ritual of seven tears in the sea.
If a person did the ritual, and he was close by, he would be compelled to attend to their needs. He learnt if they did the ritual too early for traditional times, he could bend the rules and ignore the summons. But if they did the ritual early and stole his skin, he was in trouble…
He couldn’t hide his fear; he looked around and his ‘skin’ nowhere to be found. It should be where he had placed it, underneath the very rock he was standing on. Breacan, tried to ignore the rising panic of thoughts telling him someone had stolen it. Finally he had to believe it.
Breacan glared. Stalked around the rocks, using his senses of heighten smell to pick up something, anyone. Suddenly he smelt it, and reeled in shock. It had been a while since he had first hand knowledge of it, but he knew it, knew what it was. He paled; someone had done the perquisite Selkie summoning ritual, right on the rocks, and taken his skin with them. The Danish prince sat heavily on the rocks, trying to suck in air and failing to do so. Nobody could help him now, not even Poseidon. He was on his own.
It seemed unthinkable. Here he was minding his own business, had to urgently get back to the court for a message to Poseidon and some ill-mannered, brash, individual does the ritual to demand an affair. And they had not only done it all too early, they also stole his Selkie fur.
It was an outrage.
For a full half a minute Breacan cursed in Selkie, switched to swearing in Norse, used a few choice English words and finally lowered his head in his heads. It was not even midsummer; the person could not even wait. There was a few months left before he had to endure being molested by aggressive, unhappy individuals needing attention. If they only did the ritual he could ignore it, especially since it was done early. That’s what supposed to happen. But no, this one had obviously decided to get a head start on their peers, and resort to the old trick of stealing a Selkie skin to get themselves early attention.
What kind of person does that?!
It did not matter. The person had his skin and he was bound to them till he got it back. Breacan knew what he had to do; he had to seduce to retrieve back the precious item. He did not have time to plan an attack to steal it back, he had to advance and advance quickly. Working in his favor was the Selkie allure.
He sighed. Why would anyone do this? He visibly screwed up his face in disgust when the mental answer returned: They were ugly, shrewish, and had to resort to vile trickery to get someone. The mental thought followed with mental visuals of himself trying to seduce a Medusa-looking creature, who was an incredibly selfish, spoilt, brat.
His stomach churned. His lips pouted into a sulk and he automatically curled his hand tightly into a clenching fist. Breacan was seconds away, from pitching an hysterical hissy-fit of grand proportions. Instead of giving into the base urge, he remained cool headed and vowed when he got back to the Sea-court, he was going to punch Poseidon’s lights out.
There was nothing he could do but face the evitable. The quicker he got it over and done with the better it would be. The captain let out a long, suffering sigh, and slowly walked off the beach to find the selfish twit… unhappy, romantic, individual…. who had summoned a Selkie by stealing his skin.
It was the longest walk Breacan had ever taken.