#mutual isolation

Your injured wing—a mess of scorched feathers and pain—hung limply by your side, each step you took sending pangs of agony through your body. You had no idea what had caused the fire that had scorched the wing. Was it the wind? A burst of magic from some distant god? Whatever the cause, the result was the same: you couldn't fly. You had been stubborn enough to resist asking for help from the humans in the nearby town. You knew they’d likely treat you like some freak of nature. They wouldn’t understand.

So, you lingered on the outskirts of their settlement, lurking among the trees, your feet brushing the earth as you tried to keep to the shadows. The world felt far too big with one wing useless and the other healthy but weighed down by your fear and pride.

It wasn’t until you heard the faint splash of water that you first noticed him.

He was a figure that seemed out of place—something akin to a reflection caught halfway between reality and the deep waters. At first, you thought you were imagining things, the shimmering of his tail in the sunlight. But there he was, rising from the lake with the elegance of a predator gliding through its domain, the dark green of his scales flashing in the light. His torso, beautifully sculpted and muscular, was partially exposed above the water as he leaned against a jagged rock, his face hidden by a low-hanging brimmed hat.

Your instincts told you to stay hidden. You weren’t in the mood to deal with anyone—especially someone who looked like he could be trouble. But curiosity gnawed at you, and against your better judgment, you found yourself edging closer, peering from behind the dense foliage. Your keen hearing picked up snippets of his musings, the tone of his voice sending a strange shiver down your spine.

"You know, one would think that after all these years of 'evolution,' humans would learn not to bother with the pointless games of politics. So dull, really." His voice was smooth, almost velvety, and oddly calming in the quiet of the evening.

You stiffened. “What the hell is that?” you muttered, eyeing the strange creature, this ‘mermaid,’ with skepticism.

He must have heard your words, for he turned his head, his gaze locking onto you with an almost predatory sharpness. His eyes gleamed, the black slitted pupils staring through the trees with uncanny precision. He studied you for a long moment before his lips curled into a soft, knowing smile.

"Not quite the most subtle observer, are we?" he said, his tone dripping with amusement, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "But then again, I suppose none of us are. Strangers often look before they speak. And you're no different."

You bristled, not expecting to be noticed so easily, and especially not by him. You had no patience for his teasing.

"I'm not here to chat with a... fish," you said, your tone sharp as you made to turn away. "I just don’t need your kind to be part of my problems."

His laugh followed you like an echo through the woods. "My kind, hm? And what exactly would that be, hmm? The aquatic type? Or are you merely referring to the fact that I'm much better at swimming than you are at flying?"

You froze mid-step, annoyed by his casual teasing and the fact that he somehow knew you couldn’t fly.

"Listen, I don't need your help, alright? Just stay in your lake and mind your business." You made to leave, but the pressure in your wing made it too painful to move swiftly.

Aventurine, as he introduced himself moments later, was swift to notice your struggle. "Ah, what's this? Seems like someone’s in need of a little assistance after all."

You tried to pull away, growling in frustration, but your injured wing refused to cooperate, dragging you back down. He approached you effortlessly, his sleek tail flicking through the water with a fluid grace.

“Don’t touch me,” you spat, your feathers ruffling defensively.

He tilted his head, observing you for a long, silent moment. "You're hardly in any position to turn down help, sweetheart." His tone was soft, the mocking edge now replaced by something else—something almost concerned, but wrapped in layers of calm indifference.

"I'm fine," you muttered, but there was no conviction behind it. You knew your pride was keeping you from seeking help, but you were too tired to keep pretending that it wasn’t hurting. The fire on your wing had left it stiff and useless, and your exhaustion was becoming too much to bear.

"You've got a choice, then." His voice broke through your fog of frustration. "You can either suffer in silence and try to fly with that wing in its current state... or you can let me help you."

You shot him a glare but couldn’t summon the energy to argue further. Sighing deeply, you slumped your shoulders and let out a reluctant, "Fine. Help me then."

Aventurine smiled—this time, the smile was genuine, though there was still that dangerous edge beneath it. "You’re welcome, I suppose." He stepped forward, his hands carefully reaching for your injured wing. You winced, but his touch was surprisingly gentle, far more so than you'd expected from someone who clearly enjoyed toying with you.

As his hands worked their magic, you couldn't help but notice how absurdly out of place he seemed in this tiny town. The lake was calm, the people around it unaware of the mermaid who called it home, and yet, here he was—trapped, just like you. You hated how he could so easily find solace in the quiet of the water while you struggled with your wing, but there was something undeniably captivating about him.

When he was done, he stepped back, eyes scanning your face. "You’re all patched up now. Not so bad, is it?"

You gritted your teeth, feeling a little better but still annoyed by the situation. "I still hate you," you muttered, but there was less venom in your voice than before.

Aventurine chuckled, the sound of it like the soft lapping of the water against the shore. "Hate is such a strong word, darling. Perhaps tolerance is a better fit?"

You rolled your eyes but found yourself unable to push him away anymore. Despite his irritating nature, you realized you didn’t mind his presence so much. Perhaps because you were both trapped in this small town. Maybe, just maybe, you'd both find a way out, but for now, the least you could do was stop fighting him.

"Fine," you sighed, letting the distance between you two shrink. "Maybe I’ll tolerate you for now. But don’t get used to it."

Aventurine grinned, sharp teeth flashing as he dipped his head in a mock bow. "Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart. I have a feeling you'll come around."

And for the first time since your wing was injured, you weren't entirely certain you wanted to run.