Is it a shiny? Who: Charlene and Cloelia Where: Abandoned shed near the river When: Afternoon
Charlene loved her sister, really she did, but if she had to spend one more minute with her then they were going to have another one of those altercations that she had always associated more with Kendra than Nixie. Yet where else was she supposed to go? This was her boat and it was raining which meant that going anywhere was more trouble than it was worth. Those really tight pants, the rubber jacket and an umbrella were required at the least and none of them were really that comfortable. Besides, what could she find up there to entertain her when it was raining? It would have to be inside and Charlene was not in the mood to deal with a bunch of landwalkers who would gape at what she was wearing and wonder why she was not saying anything to any of them. Which left... another part of the river - which was ridiculous, why should she have to leave the boat that was hers just because her sister was more stubborn? - or her shed. After glaring at the back of Nixie’s head and only just refraining from tossing her hairbrush at it, Charlene swum off.
It took nearly ten minutes for her to get into her little shed. Which meant drying off and shifting into her human form, making a face down at the legs that were shaking just a little bit. They could always be so fickle when she had gone more than a few days without using them. But she remembered the stretches that Tessa had shown her and went through some of them before standing up, wobbling just a little less than she might have without them. Useful, the mermaid thought to herself as she glanced around the little shed. Dust had gathered over some of the things - she had never understood where dust come from since it was a lot thinner and lighter than silt - so she brushed at bits of it before her attention was caught by one of the brightly colored boxes she used to store things in. That was one box she had not been through in awhile so, after propping the door open with a large rock to keep it from blowing shut, Charlene settled down on the floor and began to sort through the various things inside. Maybe that thing that played the music was in here, it seemed like the sort of thing that might go along with a day like this one. Music and collections and maybe one of those hot drinks - no, that would mean leaving and again that was way too much trouble. Just the potential music then.
Towel soggy -- there was a leak in her Big White Box -- and lacking in sufficient shelter from the rain, Cloelia had successfully managed to beach herself. For want of a better word. The idea had originally been for her to get out of the water and... Well, after that point it had become a matter of trial and error, but so far everything had fallen into the second category. She was trying to get her legs back, though for what purpose she really couldn’t say. Today just felt like it should have been a walking day, but the skies said otherwise. Frowning at the clouds through the gaps in the forest canopy, she had pulled herself further into the trees she did not trust until she found a reasonably dry patch of ground. And then she just waited, daring anything to come anywhere near her. The frustration of trying to turn biped again had taken the edge off her good mood and she was more than willing to take someone’s face off if they tried to approach. It had been so long since she’d had a decent human meal. Pouting, she patted down her skin as her legs eventually chose to reappear. Her skin was still clammy, which made getting dressed incredibly difficult, but she continued regardless. Emerging from the trees, clad head to foot in vinyls that didn’t match, wellington boots that rattled against her calves and a child’s anorak that fit her surprisingly well, Cloelia brandished a broken but functioning umbrella. If anyone came to bother her, she was going to stab them with the pointy end. Hood pulled over her head, she shuffled down the bank and tried not to lose her footwear to the weather.
Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. True, she had her umbrella, but she still didn’t trust something to just... Huh. Funny little house-thing. The door was open. Usually when doors were open, Cloelia thought nothing of just walking inside, but she didn’t want to have to use her umbrella as any kind of weapon. Especially not when she had no voice to explain why she was just wandering into little huts that weren’t hers. Without realising the umbrella would give her presence away before any sight of her did, she leaned her head around the door, one hand knocking on the wall. Hello?
Charlene had found the little box that made the music but for some reason it was not working. Part of her thought that it might have something to do with the fact that she could not find the small ropes that usually connected the little things to her ears while another part was debating if it was possible to make it work a second time. Although she saw humans with them all of the time and she doubted that they just replaced them because they seemed like something that might cost a lot of money... or maybe they just never turned them off? These inventions that seemed like such a good idea at first always ended up having this or that flaw. I’ll have to ask Roxy about it. Charlene set the thing aside and promptly forgot about it when she pulled out one of those picture books that she had used to try and explain reading to Corentin. And whatever had happened to the merman? Maybe she should look for him - her thoughts were disrupted by a knock and she glanced up, a little surprised when she took in who was there. Cloelia! Brightening, she sat up a little and waved at the other mermaid before waving her in. Cloelia had shared some of her treasures and so she could see some of hers too.
Automatically grinning and waving back, Cloelia reversed in, fighting with her umbrella in that way that humans always seemed to have to. Until she had procured her own, she had never understood the battle that seemed to go on between humans and open umbrellas. Either way, she was winning this one. It may have had something to do with one of the spokes being broken. Blinking around, she gave a silent ‘ooh’ and stuffed her hands in her pockets in search for something to write with. And hopefully something to write on. She had succeeded in turning biped, but now she was mute. Producing a red pen (red!), she puffed out her cheeks then rolled up her sleeve. Mistakes were scrubbed out with her thumb. ‘i met nics your sister! she thought i was human but it was okay and then mee the other mermaid did my hair.’ It was something of a curse when you couldn’t spell anyone’s name without writing in phonetics. Or really write properly. Not that writing on her arm was helping much. She tugged the hood of her coat off to show off her hair, beaming. Cloelia may have been dressed absurdly by human standards, but she was pleased with her hair.
Puffed out cheeks reminded Charlene of a fish that she had seen in the ocean but before she could remark on it Cloelia was writing something and she needed to pay attention. Oh, so she had met Nixie. Who had thought she was human. Really, her sister could be a little bit dense when it came to things on shore at times. Because yes, Charlene was just going to assume that Cloelia had been in human form because otherwise it made no sense in any way that she would mix her up for anything but a mermaid. Leaning forward, Charlene took a closer look at Cloelia’s hair and smiled in a way that she hoped relayed the fact that she thought it was pretty too. Then she reached into her nearby bag and pulled out a pen and piece of paper. ’Nixie, my sister, she just got back from being somewhere else and I don’t know any other mermaids. Knew a merman but I haven’t seen him in a really long time. And I like your hair, it’s pretty.’
In an effort to get rid of what she had already written, Lia licked her arm -- and promptly pulled a face. It tasted disgusting. In her experience, things that tasted that bad were things that were either so good for you that older merfolk had to force-feed them to you, or things you weren’t supposed to eat at all. The pen was clearly poisonous. Frowning at it, she stuck her tongue out and then continued clearing her writing area. She wasn’t entirely sure what to say about Nixie. Because saying she seemed nice would have been a lie, since they had started off with her threatening to eat her. So she just left it. She seemed to be leaving out a lot of things recently... which wasn’t really like her, but then she had always been mostly surrounded by mermen. And she could say what she pleased to them. Mermaids were different. And writing on one’s arm was not conducive to tidy writing. ‘you writing is really good! and theres a mermaid in the lake. shes just come back from elsewhere too.’ The part about her hair being pretty caused an excited wriggle that, while wearing wellington boots, made her look like a human child. It was generally quite obvious that her vanity couldn’t let compliments ever be by-passed, but when things were put down in writing they somehow became more important. And better. Speaking of words... ‘she thinks we would write better books. your sister i mean. and thank you! i need to practice so i can do it myself. and i dont like mermen.’ Not strictly true. She did like mermen. She was just very easily annoyed by them. ‘you have a little house!’ Which, obviously, Charlene knew. Because she they were in it. But Cloelia thought it ought to be acknowledged.
Had Cloelia just licked the ink on her arm? Charlene pulled a face purely out of sympathy and glanced around to see if she had any of those little white and red things that were sort of minty and made bad tastes go away. They should have had some of those when they were drinking that funny human drink that Cloelia had had when she first came across her. Finding one in one of the smaller plastic bags she unwrapped it and held it out towards Cloelia with her free hand. ’I’ve been writing a long time. Here, sit down. I’m looking at my things.’ And she really did not mind if Cloelia wanted to look too. She had plenty of things that she did not even need after all and it was not like the other mermaid had too many pockets so she could not take anything. The only really important things were her stuffed animals and the necklace she was wearing so as long as those went nowhere it was good. ’We would write better books and I like my little house. Sometimes. When it’s raining out and I can’t go anywhere and Nixie is in my boat being... herself.’ Frowning a little, Charlene tapped her Sharpie against the paper. ’Where were you going?’
Cloelia plucked the red-and-white thing with a childish curiosity, she stared at it for a moment, examining it from every angle before licking that too. Trial by taste had yet to fail her. If it tasted bad, then you spat it out. It made perfect sense to her. It didn’t taste bad thought. Actually, it tasted rather nice, even if now her tongue felt a little odd and tingly. Popping it in her mouth, she smiled around it, letting it click against her teeth as she swirled it around. Now her whole mouth felt cold when she breathed in. It was a very strange sort of tasty. ‘ive been writing for a while but i dont practice because im lazy. and i always find something else to do.’ Like start taking the funny red-and-white thing in her mouth into further consideration. How was it changing the temperature in her mouth? Humans made and ate and drank the weirdest things. She still sat, her mind automatically taking a written invitation to be more important. Somehow. ‘i still think maybe humans shouldnt know more about the ocean. they ruin things they know about.’ Cloelia gazed around the shed the same way she did with all new things -- with impossibly wide eyes that seemed convinced they could just absorb any and all knowledge from whatever they were looking at, while her mouth shaped silent noises of interest. ‘i like your little house too. its dinky.’ ‘Dinky’ was her new favourite word. She had heard one human use it a long time ago and suddenly remembered it. But it just sounded cute. It looked messy, but that was just her handwriting. ‘i dont know. today just feels like the sort of day to have legs. the weather doesnt agree. but this tastes good.’
Watching as Cloelia went through the process of deciding whether or not she should eat what Charlene had given her, she was reminded a little of herself. Only a little thought because she was not really all that big on putting things in her mouth unless she knew what they were first. Or at least had been told by someone that no, it was not going to kill her if she decided to go ahead and eat it. Supposedly. Eh, whatever it was it had worked so far since she had yet to get more than sick off of things she ate. Like that liquid. Charlene picked out a shell necklace that she had made and wound it around her neck, one edge dangling nearly down against the ground. ’We don’t need to tell them a lot about the ocean, they find what they need... make a mess while they’re at it.’ Their machines took things that they should not and their massive nets stole more fish than they had a right to. Charlene may not have eaten them anymore but she could not say in good conscience that she thought they deserved to do all of the things that they did. They did not, plain and simple. ’I have more if you like. It’s candy, some sweet stuff landwalkers like. My favorite sticks your teeth together if you let it, might be some in that box.’ She glanced up, biting at her marker and then pointed. ’That one. You can look if you want.’ Then, because Cloelia had just written a completely new word. ’What’s dinky?’
That liquid had put Cloelia in a foul mood when its effects had worn off. She had fallen into what she had firmly believed was an eternal sulk and just watching the fish pass her cave had made her feel ill. And then there was the headache. Had a human come anywhere near her for those few hours, they would have been found again in pieces because she was too agitated to let them live and too sick to eat them. It had passed when she had finally made herself eat and she had bounced right back again, but she wasn’t drinking anything else from a bottle she found in the river. At least, not from a bottle that looked like that. At the necklace, she clapped her hands in approval and swayed slightly. After seeing Melia, she was of the firm belief that mermaids should be made prettier than they already were. And Charlene was stunning, but there was no such thing as being too stunning. ‘you look beautiful!’ She paused for a moment to think. ‘nixie wants more books about the ocean because that one wasnt about air elementals. the one she was reading. it sounded like--’ Quick cleaning of arm for more space. ‘--it should have been about air elementals. and my father remembers when their boats were mostly wooden. they need more wooden boats.’ Wood was easier to tear into and did not leave big, black pools of killer-sludge in the sea and on beaches when they sank. ‘and no harpoon guns.’ Not that she had even known what those were until she had taken one off a diver by force and accidentally fired it into open water. She had cracked him over the head with it and then refused to eat him on principle. It hadn’t occurred to her that the gun may have been for defense. The name for it came later when she had managed to find herself in conversation with a completely different diver. She had left him confused when she stormed off in silence. ‘i think i means cute. or lovely. or both. it sounds cute when humans say it.’ It didn’t sound as cute when Cloelia tried saying it with gills and her not-human accent. But it felt cute when she mouthed it, which she did several times before moving to peer into the candy-box. ‘Candy’ sounded sort of cute too. Why was human food funny colours?
Smiling at the compliment, Charlene accepted it with a nod. Though if Cloelia wanted to see a pretty necklace then the one that Charlene was always wearing beat this one out. Or so she thought... opinions probably differed and she could see why other mermaids might like the shell one more. They would not understand what a stone necklace meant. ’They have the little wooden boats sometimes, but not often.’ Rowboats, the ones that only held a few people or those things with one person in each end and a bunch of stuff between. Charlene had seen a lot of those on the rivers when she was making her way in from the ocean. She had even tipped a few over just to make sure that yeah, she could get away with that and people inland could still swim even if it was awkward and the ones with bags on their backs took a little longer to make it to the shore but they usually did. ’I’ll have to say it when I change back.’ It did seem like it might be a fun word. ’My favorite word to say is marina. I just like it.’ She was not so fond of what it meant but that did not make it less fun to say. Leaning in to watch as Cloelia went through the box she reached over and plucked out one of the chocolates. ’These are good, try one.’
The other necklace was very pretty, but it was true that Cloelia did not understand the significance of the stones. She just saw something, well, pretty. It did suit Charlene, though. ‘it would be better if their big boats were wooden too.’ She didn’t know if she should admit to destroying some of those boats on her own travels, or that many of the humans involved may not have survived. Or that she had definitely eaten a few of them. It wasn’t that she had any real qualms with her own actions, it was just that she liked Charlene and thought that maybe she would think less of her for it. Like how she was fairly certain Nixie would think less of her for promising not to drown the pink-haired penguin. Actually, the mermaids around here were a little like her pod. Nobody seemed to agree on anything regarding humans -- other than they really did taste good -- and she sort of felt in the middle. She liked humans. She just liked killing and eating them as well. Ma-ree-na... Marina. Mouthing the word several times, Cloelia tried putting her voice behind it in her head. Marina... Dinky. Dinky marina. Dinky marina candy. Giggling at her own silent repetition, she blinked at what Charlene was holding. It got a lesser degree of examination than the red-and-white thing -- that she was now crunching with her teeth -- because Charlene had told her to try it so it had to be alright. And went straight into her mouth. And it tasted good. ’thats really really’ That sentence didn’t get finished. ‘its better than the funny drink by far.’ Which wasn’t saying much, she supposed but it was really nice. Chewing, she frowned slightly in thought. ‘that other mermaid that isnt nixie has holes in her ears. like a human. where they put those shiny things.’ Which she thought was both fascinating and worrying. One hand tugged at her earlobe. ‘wouldnt that hurt?’ Mermaids didn’t come with holes there. Neither did humans, that she had noticed.
’Probably.’ Then they would take longer to get across the oceans and do everything so maybe less of them would use those and instead go in those loud metal birds that took them up in the sky. Charlene had seen a few of those and had absolutely no desire to ever be on one. They took you way too far away from the water and who wanted to be in one anyhow? Better to swim. Yet humans liked them, so let them use those. Having no idea what word-play was going on inside of Cloelia’s head, she occupied herself with continuing to sift through the box. She remembered gaining most all of these but the little shell case-thing that snapped open and closed. That she did not remember. Nor the pieces of paper money that humans were so attached to that were stuffed inside. Huh. Well, at least it was pretty so she definitely needed to keep it and that money could always be used for more paper. ’Chocolate is better than a lot of things. Except sushi.’ She had to correct herself because she was very fond of that food discovery. Which she could have carried on about had Cloelia not asked about piercings in the ears. Roxy had those. ’I think they would, but apparently humans don’t mind all that much. I don’t want them.’ A shake of her head to emphasize the point. ’But the things that go in are pretty. I have a few. Somewhere. Maybe.’ One could never be sure what they had gathered and lost over the years.