Clay

Because he sunk…

Something heavy was hugging him…

He lost the spear, watching it sink to the bottom, far from him. And with that, the chance to save them got lost.

He fought with all his body against the chains as he kept sinking. He reached the bottom and tried in vain to take one of his arms out, feeling the shadow of the boat ready to eat him. The net pulled him up with a dry move that surprised him, he kept moving, trying to find a way to escape, but the net seemed to close even more, until he didn’t have space to move. He looked around, to find help.

His eyes found Seck, away from the boat, but he wasn’t hiding, or even moving or trying to help Rense. He didn’t even look worried, he was just there, watching, without a hint of remorse in his eyes.

“Seck! Help!” He managed to scream before the cold breeze hit him.

The sun blinded him. He writhed in the air as the net was coming down. He looked at them, humans, not a single mer-people. He tried to catch a breath, but the dry air made his gills close, he opened his mouth to catch another breath without wanting it. His body got uncontrollable, he started shaking, moving desperately, trying to break free, to breathe.

With a loud noise he fell on the boat deck, his body feeling numb, and as shadowy figures surrounded him, his vision blacked, losing consciousness…

As soon as his eyes opened, he got blinded, not because of the sun, but because an ultra-violet light that was over his head. He tried to use his hand as a cover, but it was tightly tied with chains hanging from the roof. His tail was also tied, but part of it was covered in white gauze, pain coming in waves.

He tried to escape, with desperate moves that made the water of the tank overflow. He didn’t stop when the pain of his tail got worse, he stopped when he realized that his wrists were bleeding, and the water got colored with a trail of red blood.

His now steady body wasn’t reflecting his state of mind, that seemed like the water of the tank, waves of memories and thoughts were making a hurricane.

But the sound of a door made him react, a human entered walking, no weapons on his hands. Rense looked at the human, a warm sensation on his chest, a spark of hope. Maybe not all the humans are bad, maybe this one is different.

He went to a table next to the tank and took a spoon, it didn’t look dangerous. He climbed a stepladder and got close to the tail.

The human took off the gauze, and Rense felt like his heart sunk.

His scales, coloured like a sunset were gone in some parts of the tail, blood came off from them.

“Why?” He could only whisper, the human inspected the damage ignoring the question. “You are like the others.” The human looked at the merman at the eyes.

“What did you said?” Rense didn’t answer, looking at the corner, ashamed. “I’m not going to hurt you, just tell me what did you said”

“When you entered without a weapon, I thought you came to help me.” The human chocked with a laugh an looked again to the tail.

“Let me tell you something.” He grabbed the tail, his hand stronger as it seemed. “Don’t trust in anyone.”

Rense withered in pain as his scales were being removed, he didn’t scream, he tensed his jaw and squeezed the eyes, he even forgot to breath trying to not scream in front of the human.

The movements of the human were calculated, knowing when to stop before the moves of the tail ruins his work. He took the scales with care and placed them on the table. One by one, he dried them and packed in small boxes. Rense watched with horror the scene, the pain getting worse. As soon as the human finished packing the boxes, he picked them up and headed to the door.

“I have to thank Seck for his splendid job.” Rense froze, a cold chill climbed his spine.

The name kept echoing in the room even after the human left. Rense didn’t try to escape that night, he drowned in his memories, in his thoughts. Too many questions, and not a single answer.

The next day the human came again, no weapons on his hands, just empty boxes.

“We have a big order today.”

Rense moved, trying to escape from the grip of the human in vain. But he stopped when his tail got caught again. He knew that moving would make it worse.

He bit his tongue and closed his eyes, his hearth hammering as fear embraced him, his only companion in this moment, a weight on his back that got heavier as the cold spoon grazed his tail.

His body writhed without permission. The pain came like a tsunami this time, stronger and longer-lasting, Rense didn’t expect it. But the silence of the room got interrupted, a weak sound escaped from the chest of Rense. The human stopped just a second, with the tail in his hand he directed his gaze to the tied merman, a pale face distorted from the waves of the water. He didn’t say anything and continued his job.

After minutes that seemed like hours the human finally bandaged the wounded tail, the water was painted with a light red. Even with his body in shock, Rense managed to form a question, without waiting an answer.

“You met Seck?” The human didn’t look at him, he seemed hypnotized by the color of the dried scales.

“His scales weren’t as shiny as yours. But he promised me a valuable treasure in exchange of his freedom and protection.” He closed a box and looked at the eyes of Rense. “I waited a long time to meet you, he is someone I can trust.”

Rense couldn’t form any other question or word. The human didn’t talked either, humming a strange melody as the scales were packed carefully. He left the room with the boxes on his hand, but something caught the attention of Rense, something that was behind the door. The deep blue of the ocean, the freedom, so close to him.

That night he tried to escape, moving desperately against the tight chains. He didn’t stop when the water got darker, he didn’t stop when his body felt heavy or when the water stopped covering his face, he fought with all his might, hitting the crystal with his tail, almost screaming from desperation, but the tiredness won, his eyes closed and his mind drifted away, as the body stopped moving.

The next day the human came back, rushing to take the spoon.

“I don’t have time, I have a travel in an hour, so cooperate or it will hurt.”

Rense was too tired to fight back or move to escape from the grip, his mind was absent this time, he didn’t felt the pain as a plan formed in his thoughts. The human left the room faster than ever, leaving on the table the scales to dry and the empty boxes scattered without the usual order.

When he felt ready, he reunited the last strength and started fighting against the chains.

He withered again, moving his tail like he was swimming faster than ever, the chains dancing around his wrists.

This time he didn’t stop when he saw the water darker than ever, he didn’t stop even if the pain started consuming him. He fought with all the strength he lost, with the last hope beating on his chest. The tail got free first, even without scales and the pain he swam against the chains of his wrists, feeling his arms stretch out. Without a fear he started screaming, not just because of the pain, but because the anger, the need to break free.

And he got free, wrist with the skin thorn apart and the old gauze painted in red. He took a deep breath and climbed out of the tank, a loud noise broke the silence when he fell to the cold floor. He started crawling, leaving salt water trail coloured in red. He tried to ignore the pain of his arms as he dragged his own weight.

The big obstacle came, the stairs that seemed short and easy, now were like a mountain impossible to scale.

But time is valuable, there's no way to go back.

He used his weak arms to climb the steps, sitting over his tail trying to find stability. His lunges squeezing on his chest, he tried to hold his breath, every second made the task harder.

He was close, two more steps, his arms screaming in pain to stop, but before realizing, one of them slipped to his side, his chest hit the cold steps and he couldn’t prevent a gasp of air that came unconsciously. He clung with his nails to the steps and kept going, his chest was each time tighter, he didn’t stop until he finally reached the top.

He managed to open the door, a white tidy living room welcomed him, but he only saw the ocean, calm waves hitting the sand. An open crystal door was between him and freedom. He could feel the salted breeze enter, hugging him, calling him.

He started crawling again, leaving now a crimson path, the old gauze detaching from his tail.

But he couldn’t hold his breath anymore, the chest aching took another breath, and with that another one, the salt air made him choke, coughing and feeling his gills closing again. He opened his mouth to breath, but the air dried his throat.

 But he didn’t stop, even if his body screamed to, he used the last of his strength to crawl, his arms numb as he finally reached the door, just two steps on sand and he’ll be back…

…home…

A stabbing pain hit his tail, it wasn’t tiredness, it was something different. He turned around, tail unable to move. He didn’t expect that the pain was caused by his own spear, a hand still holding it. He followed with his eyes the arm that held it. With his vision blacking out, he couldn’t recognize the face.

He let his body fall to the floor, mouth open, gasping for air that he knew he couldn’t breath. He looked at the sea one last time, and found a figure looking at him, even if it was far, and black dots were in his vision, Rense recognized him.

Seck…

But he could only close his eyes, the pain now blinding him.

 As his mind drifted away, he heard a familiar voice whispering on his ear.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

"..by the gods.. and will this be all, Miss?”

Varalda pretends not to notice the muttered comment preceding the question the shopkeeper asks her, as she digs around in her bag for her bag of coins. It’ll take everything she’s scraped together for the past two years, but hopefully, it’ll be worth it. “Yes, it will. Thank you.”

With that, she gathers up her large bundle and heads out the door.

As she turns in the direction of her house, a few mile walk, she runs through the plan in her head.

In her bundle, she has an assortment of ingredients, (some poison, hopefully she remembered gloves last week..) some gems, tools, and then back home she has the final piece, a very special piece of enchanted rock that she’d purchased a couple months back for.. way too much. We’ll just say that.

And when she gets home, she’s going to set everything up, and then wait very (im)patiently for the moon to rise.

Tonight is the night she brings back a dragon.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Back home—a circle of gray stones (all carefully selected from various creeks and rivers) in a circle. Her ingredients next to her. The mortar and pestle. Her collection of gems surrounding the mortar. And the ceremonial blade in front of it.

It’s dark, the only light coming from the candlelight glow all around her. It’s finally time to begin.

Without wasting any time, Varalda starts the careful (but slightly rushed) measuring of ingredients into her mortar. She focuses on the scrape of pestle against mortar as she starts to grind. Then, it’s time for the final step.

With shaking hands, she lifts her blade, in her left hand. Wait, no, goddamnit, right hand. The sacrifice has to come from her left.

Then she pauses. Anxiety builds in her chest, along with hope—that desperate, scared kind of hope, the kind that doesn’t know if it’s going to be crushed yet.

Is she really ready to do this?

Could it actually work?

..is she ready for it to work?

She shakes her head hard. She can’t hesitate any longer, can’t give herself any more time to overthink this.

She presses the blade to her palm. Then digs a slow, careful slit down, from her middle finger to her wrist.

Fuck, that hurts, but she completes it. Blood wells up in her palm, thick and red, and she winces a bit as she carefully tilts it over the bowl and lets her blood pour over the crushed ingredients.

Nothing happens.

Disappointment rises in her chest.

No. No, this has to work. It has to. Because if it doesn’t—well, if it doesn’t, she’s out of options.

But she only stews in her rising feelings of panic for a couple seconds longer, thankfully, before, so faintly she might’ve missed it, a red glow starts to emanate from the pool of her blood.

Her eyes widen. Her body goes cold, then hot.

She chalks it up to excitement at first. She’s done it! She’s going to be the one who brings back dragons!

But that excitement is short-lived, because the hot feeling spreading through her body is suddenly overwhelming.

She jerks back as she hears a sizzle, then looks down in panic to see a blister forming across her hand, in the path of the blood dripping from her still wet cut.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh god what’d she do?!

She scrambles to her feet—to do what, she’s not sure, maybe run? Maybe get help—but before she can move she suddenly finds herself collapsing to her knees, hunching over and hugging herself, a choking cry escaping her lips as burning pains radiates through her entire body.

She’s dying. She must be dying.

She forces her eyes open as she falls onto her side, trying desperately to see through a sudden blur, a sudden red tint. Her veins are starting to glow, a faint orangeish red that looks as hot as it feels. Then she watches in horror as her own blood starts to bubble through her skin.

She’s suddenly screaming without really choosing to make the sound. It rings in her ears, making her head ache, which is just really not a fun feeling when added to the searing AGONY radiating through her entire body. There’s something dripping out of her eyes, then her nose, and her ears.. it might be blood?..it’s definitely hot enough.

Her skin starts to bubble and melt away. She’s literally boiling from the inside out.

GOD, this hurts. It HURTS. IT HURTS, HOW DOES SHE MAKE IT STOP?!

Her vision blurs even more, making it so she can’t really tell if it’s her imagination or not as something dark, blueish, starts to form underneath her melting skin. Her screams—she’s still screaming, although the noise fades into the background—almost sound like they’re starting to lower in pitch, take on more of a snarling quality.

When she opens her eyes next, the trees look a lot smaller.

Then she blacks out.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

A sharp pain cuts through her head. A shout.

“Varalda? Varalda, where are you?!”

She calls back—but then a chill runs through her as her voice comes out in an incomprehensible, animalistic roar.

And she comes face to face—her vision suddenly very sharp and crisp—with her best friend. Who are a lot smaller than she remembers them.

Their face is pale, their eyes wide. They start to back up.

Then their gaze drops to the ruined ritual circle.. the blood.. the scraps of ruined clothes on the ground that Varalda suddenly registers.

“..Varalda..?” Their friend says. Softly. Gently. Too gently. “..that’s.. that’s you?”

She manages a tiny nod. Her head feels a lot clumsier, more hefty than it should.

Her for some reason very tiny friend carefully approaches, and very tentatively lays a hand on her.

“..Varalda, what happened?” They murmur.

She tries to answer, but again, only a growl escapes.

They rub her shoulder. “Shh.. it’s alright.” Their touch is more soothing than it’s ever been. “We’ll fix this.. I-I’m sure we can fix this. I’ll get a healer. M-maybe we’ll travel, to those healers in the East. They’re better versed in magic.

What HAPPENED?! Varalda screams in her head.

But the answer is no further than her own twisted body as she looks down.

And instead of seeing her familiar, pale flesh, her humanoid hands, she sees dark blue scales. Claws.

She’s a dragon.

The spell backfired so terribly.

Or maybe it didn’t backfire. Maybe it worked exactly as it was supposed to, and she shouldn’t have torn ‘dragon spell’ out of an old tome and attempted the spell all by herself, without even consulting anyone.

"Is that my Whumpee's sweet voice that I hear?"

Whumpee froze mid-step with their eyes blown open. The same fear clearly had also gripped Caretaker since their hand clamped down on their own now. "Caretaker, we have to run. Right now."

"I'm sorry Whumpee…But we won't run."

Whumpee blanches as their darting eyes now settled on Caretaker. Caretaker who was not panicked. Who didn't even seem in any rush. Who held their hand steadily not to feel safe but to keep them here. Caretaker who had set this up! "You piece of shit." Hate festered in Whumpees words, the same way that it now festered in their heart. How stupid of them to trust someone again. They were so foolish.

"Oh don't be too hard on the poor dear. They really didn't have much of a choice.", Whumper said as they now parted from the shadows of a doorframe to their right.

But instead of approaching Whumpee they walked past them and to a car parked there to open the back door. Reaching inside muffled grunts could be heard as Whumper dragged a tied up and clearly roughed up person to their feet next to them. "As promised, Caretaker, one Partner, nearly completely unharmed.", they presented smoothly.

It felt as if the air got punched out of Whumpees lungs once again. Caretaker traded their live for Partners?! That dick that treated Caretaker like trash? That's whom they've doomed them for?!"

"Tick Tock, Caretaker.", Whumper reminded them.

"Right.", Caretaker murmured and grabbed Whumpees arm with the other hand as well now.

Unfortunately even after those couple months of rehabilitation Whumpee was stil significantly weaker than Caretaker and so they could just stratch and trash as they were dragged over to the object of their day-terrors.

They trashed and kicked and cursed under their breath all the way until a hand settled on their shoulder, fingers brushing the side of their neck. That's when they calmed down, or rather, froze.

"So good, to have you back, Whumpee.", Whumper murmured into their ear before throwing Partner down on the wet cobblestones like he was nothing more than a bag of trash.

Finally Caretaker let go of Whumpee and quickly cowered down to untie Partner.

Whumper now snearked their arm around Whumpees shoulder and started pulling them towards the car door, nudging them to sit inside. Over their shoulder they looked at Caretaker once more. "Pleasure doing buisness with you, Caretaker. And once again, thank you so much for not calling the police. That was a big help." They smiled broadly at Caretakers helpless expression before fully shoving Whumpee inside and cuffing their hands to the grab handle above.

Someone who didn't know Whumper would probably assume that they were in a cheerful mood. An easy smile on their lips, open eyes, and lazy movements. But Whumpee did know Whumper. And so they could tell that Whumper was furious. And that that prophesied them blood.

Anger, fear, self-loathing and grief warred inside them, making it hard to pass jdugement on anything. And in fear of further upsetting Whumper Whumpee decided to say nothing at all during the entire ride and just stare outside through the tinted windows while the blood drained from their hands.

------

Whumpee only snapped back into reality when the car finally came to a stop in front of Whumpers house. That wretched house that they had hoped to never have to see again!

Their door was opened by Whumper and cold eyes silently reminded them not to struggle as the cuffs were opened and Whumpees wrists slid out only to drop like bags of sand.

"So docile now.", Whumper mused as they "helped" Whumpee out of the car and to the front door.

Whumpee heard the familiar sound of the door locking through the fog in their mind, felt the sinking feeling of knowing that they were now in this place and that it would be very hard to impossible to escape. Again.

And as if Whumper had read their thoughts the feel of a cold blade touched the skin underneath their shirt.

"You know where to go.", was all Whumper said.

And Whumpee did know. And next thing they knew they were back in their cell room.

"Kneel!", Whumper ordered quietly. Not withdrawing the knife, merely adjusting it to have to blade facing upwards.

Something, some piece, in Whumpee broke when their legs gave out and their knees hit the tiled floor. The fabric of their shirt tearing on Whumpers blade in the process. Leaving only a thin bloody line in its wake.

"Good. Very good.", Whumper praised. "Now. Whumpee. Maybe you can repeat for me your rules, hm?"

Whumpee gulped. Their worst fear unravelling right in front of them. They'd been right. Of course Whumper wouldn't look past this punishment. "Kneel-Kneel when ordered to do so. Uhm. Uhm. Well generally obey what you command. Don't presume privileges without being clearly allowed them. Don't lie to you." Whumpees voice grew quieter and quieter with every rule. "Don't try to loophole rules and don't. Don't try to escape." The last words were barely above a whisper.

"What was that last one, Whumpee?", Whumper asked, voice thin like a blade itself.

"Don't try to escape.", Whumpee conceded, hanging their head low.

With slow steps Whumper walked to face Whumpee, reaching out with the knife to tilt their returned plaything's chin up until their cold eyes met terrified ones.

"Clearly I didn't get that one to stick last time did I?"

A trick question. Don't answer, you'll only get punished for speaking out of turn.

"And since you broke that rule so blatantly, and stayed away for so long I think its only fair to assume that you broke every other rule in my absence as well."

Whumpee gasped. No. No they couldn't possibly. They wouldn't. But in Whumpers cruel calm they had already read that they would. Of course they would. "Whumper, please. I know what I did but please. Please let me make it up to you. Please don't.", they started begging quietly.

"Ssssh.", Whumper shushed them, knife tip now dancing over their captive's lips. "Its the fastest way for you to learn, dear. And the most fun one."

Whumpees horror clashed together over their head like waves in the ocean when Whumper kicked them in their now unclothes chest and straddled them on the floor, crushing their hands underneath their knees.

"Hold on to that for a second, will you.", Whumper said as they set the large knife down on Whumpees torso, instead grabbing something from their pockets. It looked like metal finger tip overlays with sharpened tips. Putting those on they grabbed the knife again with their right hand. Their left hand closing around Whumpees waist, metal "nails" digging into the sensitive skin there was Whumper started carving lines all over their torso.

The room started to reek or iron as more and more of the stone tiles stained red with Whumpees blood, and the air got drenched in their groans and screams.

The carvings Whumper gave them were seneless violence. Lines, zigzags, doubles or long diagonal lines. Special patterns weren't for punsihments after all. Those were only for the fun sessions. Not that Whumper wasn't enjoying this as well. An easy smile on their lips and estatic eyes. Their fingers dug deep into the side of Whumpees waist every so often, tearing previously held-in screams from their plaything's lips. And colouring their metal fingertips in lines of red.

Just when Whumpee was about to mercifully mentally slip away Whumper removed the blade from their skin and laid it to the side. Whumpees head lolled to the side in relief, black encroaching on their vision. Until a sharp pain jerked them up, filling their body with new adrenaline. Whumper had slapped them, hard, and the metal tips had cut into their cheek in the process.

"Don't pass out on me now.", Whumper warned as they took their knife and left the room.

Whumpee wined, they tried to move out of the small puddles of blood but it hurt too much so they just stayed where they were. The stench nearly making them sick and the pain buzzing in their entire being. This was all their life was going to be from now on. Again. Tears started squeezing out of the corner of Whumpees eyes slowly. They hoped Caretaker was happy! But they doubted it...And they were in too much pain to be angry still.

It felt like an entirety before Whumper returned, a first aid kit in one hand and a bundle of thick ribbons in the other one. They sat back on their hunkers in front of their Whumpee and started expertly sanatizing their work. Once that was done and the spray had mixed with the blood on their skin and the tears had dribbled down Whumpees pained face Whumper took out their smartphone and snapped a detailed photo of the sight. Then they continued to bandage up the wounds tightly, not letting the opportunity to press their fingers into some of the wounds, to hear those sweet sweet noises of Whumpees pain, slip away. Once they were fully looked after Whumper helped them sit up with gentle movements. "Now Whumpee.", they spoke just as gently. All gentlessness about them now, it was a jarring contrast. "You know the deal. -They held up the ribbons- Either you choose freedom of movement and isolation or you choose the ribbons and...You get more of this." Whumper slowly stroked their warm hand over Whumpees un-injured cheek.

Whumpee whimpered, they were in so much pain and grief, and of course they knew that Whumper had just done all of this to them but this felt so good. So, so good. And they felt so, so bad. Before they even consciously came to a decision something had already slipped past their lips. "Please."

"Whumper smirked but remained oh so gentle. "Please what, Whumpee. I need to know what you want so I can give it to you."

Whumpee whimpered again, but quietly this time. "Please. The, the ribbons." They coughed and the motion pulled on their fresh cuts.

How predictable. "Of course, Whumpee.", they responded, moving a few strands of their plaything's hair out of their face. They unitentionally closed their eyes against the motion of Whumpers fingers. So desperate for comfort. Nearly more than when they were first with them. No doubt they didn't let Caretakers efforts ever really get to them.

With soft but steady hands Whumper started tying the ribbons around Whumpees ankles, knees, wrists elbows and throat, finishing the knots into little bows each time. "There, all done.", they murmured into Whumpees hair-crown. Pressing a little kiss into their hair as they propped them against their front comfortable. Now using both hands to gently stroke over Whumpees non-bloodied up skin. Covering all of Whumpees known most touch-starved areas and alllowing them to cuddle their head againt their chest. Allowing them to try and hide in their soft sweater and the darkness. To lose themselves in the soft touch and comfort and ignore who was giving it to them. "You did so well, Whumpee. You are perfect.",they praised quietly just before they noticed Whumpees breathing even out.