Who: Eric and other merfolk. What: Childhood. Where: The ocean floor. When: 1500 years ago/500 years ago. Warnings: Hunting, childbirth.
"Come on, littlefin." She called to him through the water and his eyes strained to see her through the darkness as she emerged from behind a crevice, blue and pink scales glowing in spiral patterns on her bare torso. "You need to learn to hunt for yourself now." She trilled as she swam backward through the water, keen blue eyes on her young son as he struggled to keep up with her, growing fins flapping in the dark water, propelling him toward her.
"Mama, wait!" He called out thinly and she laughed, slowing down until he caught up, fitting his smaller form against her side and nuzzling down in against her chest, smiling as her webbed fingers passed over his long, glowing hair. She was comforting to the young merboy - who looked approximately five years old by human standards but had been alive for about twenty-five years - and when she nudged him away from her, he didn't want to go.
But, dutifully, he slipped away, flattening himself to an outcropping of rocks and peering up over the edge to look down toward the only source of light for miles around, a brighttooth fish swimming slowly, waiting to lure in smaller fish with its glowing bulb hanging from its head. Dimming his own glow, he crept over the outcropping and down, fumbling a bit. The fish, feeling the vibrations in the water, started to swim away and the merboy planted his feet down into the rock and pushed off, rushing after it. It led him on a merry chase, the merboy twisting and turning and trying to reach out to grab it. Eventually, his claws caught on its scales and he tugged, wrenching it back to him and digging into its side with his teeth. Blood bloomed out around him as he munched and a ripple in the water announced his mother's appearance.
"Very good, littlefin." She crooned, laughing as he grinned, bloody and childish, around his mouthful. "Soon you'll be the best hunter in all the ocean." She murmured and the merboy yanked at the protuberance that held that flickering glow of light, tugging the appendage off and extending the pretty bulb to her hopefully. "Thank you, sweetheart." She murmured, popping the bulb into her mouth and waiting until her son was finished his meal before guiding him back to the bloom so he could tell his tale of triumph, singing softly to him as they swam.
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Blood filled the water and her wails were high and pained. He held her hand, not caring that her fingernail-claws were digging into his arm, pushing her floating hair back from around her head as her glow, purple and teal, started to pulse with the effort she was putting into pushing. The bloom's healer was between her legs, instructing her, and his only role was to encourage her, to tell her that she would be a good mother, that he would be a good father, that their little baby would be surrounded by love and happiness.
One of his older children, by a different mother, fluttered around, feeding her strips of fish to keep her strength up, eager for the birth of their half-sibling. It took hours, maybe days, but there was no way to tell here, in the deep, and, eventually, a shrill screech pierced the water and the merman went to the healer, staring down at the new life that had just been brought forth. He was beautiful, with dark hair and a mix of colours, one from the mother, one from the father, blue and purple, glowing on his tiny body.
"Littlefin." He murmured, holding him close for a moment before passing him up to his exhausted mother so he could start to suckle at her breast. Eventually, the water cleared of blood and the bloom started to sing softly, the song of new life, and the merman snuggled in against the new mother's side, his hand nestled on his son's back to keep the three of them close together. Eventually, he would sing to him the song his own mother had taught him. Eventually, he would teach him how to hunt. But now, now was for resting and feeling blessed beyond measure that their bloom had grown that day without any major complications.