marble.

｡･:*:･ﾟ⎈ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

The roof would have been her first option, but abu was having a sleepless night, which meant mama was up with him too, and sneaking past both of them in the middle of the night and getting on the roof without getting yelled at for being so irresponsible to go up there in the first place (if they’d learned she’s been doing it since she was about eight and a half, nine, they’d be gett heartattacks, both of them, she was sure), so Steph ended up on the beach in front of the café.

She grabbed a chair from the patio and a heater they had for when the weather was nice enough that some people wanted to sit outside for a bit, and she wrapped herself up in two big blankets. They were just as much for comfort and feeling like she was actually hugged than for the warmth.

She absolutely did not expect any company, and definitely not Thomas Ó Cuilinn walking along the beach, half wet, in nothing but a t-shirt that he wasn’t even wearing properly. So she stared - partly from surprise, partly because those were abs, those were nice and defined abs and she was heartbroken, sure, but she also wasn’t blind, sue her. She was good at noticing that instead of thinking about how he was so close to Mellora and–

Nope, she wasn’t going to go there.

“Hey. Nice night for a swim, right?” She was trying to keep it on the downlow, how much she’s actually known the last time they talked, but since then she chatted with Isidore, so even taking Mellora out of the picture, she knew stuff. No point in pretending she didn’t.

“I’m alright. I’m fine. I’m just dandy. I’ve got my blankets, I’ve got my heater, I am ready to just stare at the ocean all night or until I fall asleep over here.” It wouldn’t be the first time. Granted, she usually fell asleep on the beach during summer, when it was an appropriate weather, but sure, time for experiencing the night cold in her bones when she wakes up.

And then he brought up Mellora and Steph froze. She was back home. Well, that was good. At least she was okay. She could do great things, be a kickass leader, make sure her sister was okay. And yet, all Steph cared about if Mellora missed her as much as she did.

But that was way too pathetic, even for her, so instead she found herself saying, “Yeah, you would know, since you are her cousin, right? How’s that working out for you? Still enjoying the cousin life?”

---

Thomas smiled at Steph. "For me, perhaps, yes. Please don't attempt to go for a swim. Isidore would truly kill me if he knew I let one of his friends die of cold." He had only just finished apologizing for telling Steph that they were brothers, and he hardly wanted a whole new thing to apologize for.

At Steph's insistence that they were cousins, Thomas's brows furrowed. "Er, you know I know that Isidore told you everything, yes? You don't need to continue pretending - ah! Are you angry with me? Is this...passive-aggression?" He seemed fascinated, as if something he'd only ever read about was playing out before his eyes. To be fair...he couldn't remember anyone ever being passive-aggressive toward him before.

He sat down in the sand next to Steph's chair and stared out at the dark, icy water before them. "I do apologize for having to lie to you. Isidore, Mellora, and I had to, you know, for the ensured survival of both our species. Humans would likely try to eradicate us if they knew that we existed. Purposefully or not, they do that constantly. No offense, I'm sure you personally wouldn't hunt mermaids and hippocampi...but we couldn't have known that before we knew you. That's the paradox of it, isn't it?"

He looked at Steph. "None of us enjoy it, though. The lying, I mean. Isidore is wracked with guilt as we speak. I’m sure Mellora felt bad about it, too. Truthfully, I am not quite so wracked with guilt, but I am relieved to be able to tell someone the truth. Keeping everything straight in my head is complicated enough as it is. My point is...I’m glad you know, though I hope you’ll keep our secret.”

-

Thomas sure was a quick fella, but Mike managed to keep up alright. “Makes sense,” he agreed when Thomas explained how he’d come by an apartment of his own. Personally Mike preferred to ingratiate himself to the townsfolk by serving them booze, but to each their own. Thomas’s situation was a little different, too - the previous times Mike had been in town he really hadn’t been anything more than a casual drifter, here visiting Isidore with no clear idea of how long he’d be sticking around. Considering the presumed reason for Thomas’s stay here, it made more sense for the guy to settle in a bit more than that. 

The presumed reasons for Thomas acquiring it were about where the logic of the apartment ended, though - stepping inside, Mike was surprised to find that the place was… actually pretty cluttered? Not the kind of thing that Mike had a problem with personally, but it wasn’t exactly the kind of lifestyle choice he would have expected for Thomas. “Nice place ya got,” he commented anyway, sincere as ever. He did like what had been done with the place, even if the clutter of it was a little confusing. He turned to look at Thomas again, and was surprised again - not by the fact that his brother was looking at him but the intensity of his gaze. 

“Hey, no worries - water’s good,” he decided - not because he was actually thirsty, but it seemed like Thomas could use a few seconds to gather his thoughts. “Then ya can tell me what’s on your mind, yeah?” Even if Thomas hadn’t been missing for quite some time now, it would be obvious from how the guy was acting that something was up. Might as well make himself comfortable while he waited to learn what it was, though - with the ok from Thomas already given, he went ahead and sat down on the sofa.

---

What was on his mind. Thomas couldn't help but laugh. Of course Mike saw right through him, despite the fact that his brother seemed like some sort of impenetrable fortress to him. He turned to the kitchen and got two glasses of water from the cupboard. As he filled them, he pondered just how he wanted to go about this. He didn't want to alarm Mike, but he supposed that some concern would naturally arise from what he was about to tell him. 

With a sigh, he headed to the living room and handed Mike his glass of water. He supposed he would just have to face this head on. He sat down on the couch and put his own glass on the coffee table.

"The truth is that I don't really remember you well," he said, voice quiet as if that might soften the blow of his words. "When I first returned a year or so ago, I didn't remember anything at all from before I disappeared, including the fact that I disappeared. My memories have been slowly returning, but I'm still missing quite a lot. I didn't remember who you were until I saw you. I've been trying to figure out what happened to me, but I haven't learned much. Isidore thinks it's connected to the disappearances of our other brothers."

It was the middle of the night, and Thomas was in the ocean. Mellora had sent a messenger to let him know that she'd arrived safely in the North Atlantic - something he was very grateful for, considering that he'd been worrying about her ever since she'd left. He had about a million questions for the messenger...most of which she couldn't answer. 

When she finally left, he turned around and let his body shift back into its human form, hooves turning to fingers and his tail separating into legs. He broke above the water with a gasp. Breathing was always the most painful part, he'd found.

He stepped out of the icy water and onto a rocky section of the beach where he'd left his clothes. He didn't expect anyone else to be around; after all, it was the middle of the night and the middle of winter. Nobody was really interested in going for a swim. He tugged on his pants and shoes first. He started walking along the beach as he pulled his shirt over his head...which was how he spotted Steph. Wide-eyed, he tugged his shirt down.

"Stephanie?" he called. He'd been keeping his distance from her ever since she'd tricked him into telling her about Isidore. But now that Mellora was gone and Isidore had put everything out in the open, he supposed it was safe. Besides, he felt a pang of concern for her. What was she doing out in the middle of the night? He hurried over.

Thomas had been feeling not-quite-right ever since he and his brothers had had that argument over Isidore talking to the humans. He couldn't remember ever fighting with his brothers before. They certainly had...but he couldn't remember it, which only left him feeling worse. What if they never got along again? He had to fix this. And step one on his mission to fix it was to talk to Weldon.

He didn't think his brother was a cold-blooded killer or anything...but he had seemed pretty serious about fighting the humans if they leaked anything. Thomas needed to make sure that wasn't going to happen. He hardly wanted to see anyone get hurt, after all. Even if the humans could endanger them all and possibly drive hippocampi to extinction if word were to get out.

He was a bit stressed.

So, he made his way to the inn days after their argument. He did his best to avoid any human on the way, just in case. Wasn't Renzie responsible for the inn? Weldon might have new problems if Renzie were to find out the connection between Weldon and Isidore. Thomas grimaced, reminded anew that he'd caused this. If he'd just stayed away from Steph...

He knocked on the door, a hurried, urgent sound. "Weldon?" he called through the door. "Are you around?" Damn, maybe he should have texted first.

Without Mellora opening with him, the museum seemed terribly empty. Lifeless, even. He understood why she'd returned to the sea, of course. Better than ever, now that he had his brothers in town with him. If anything were to happen to one of them, he was quite certain he'd move mountains trying to help them. Still, he worried about whether he could still carry out their quest and help Assyria without her at his side.

But she was already gone. There was no room for doubt...nor any for error, if the situation in the North Atlantic truly was as serious as it sounded. He would simply have to succeed.

In the meantime, though, there were explanations to be given. Alliances to be maintained, even though the thought of trying to represent the North Atlantic made Thomas's stomach turn. He'd missed on a century of geopolitical action, after all. Hopefully she would at least send a mermaid representative soon.  

Speaking of - one such ally (or, at least, he hoped she was?) was walking through the door. Thomas abandoned the front counter to greet her. In one hand, he gripped an envelope addressed to her. "Good morning, Gemma! I was wondering if we could talk, preferably before 10," when humans would come trickling in. "It's...well, it's sort urgent."

Something was wrong. The way Thomas stiffened when hugged was… Well, he wasn’t sure what that was about, he certainly hadn’t meant to make his long lost brother uncomfortable. He let go - but even as he did, it was like something clicked into place for Thomas. Mike really didn’t know what to make of the exclamation that they were brothers - it was true, and he was pretty excited about it too. But it didn’t really seem like a very Thomas thing to loudly exclaim without context, either. “Uh, yeah,” he agreed, still on too much of a giddy high at seeing his long lost brother to really be ready to follow that up with an intelligent question. 

“Yeah, alright,” he agreed easily, eager to go somewhere more private to talk to Thomas hopefully learn what had happened. Or just shoot the breeze if Thomas wasn’t up for talking about heavy stuff, for that matter - at the end of the day he cared a lot more about somehow being able to spend time with the guy again than what they spent that time talking about. He followed Thomas in the direction that had been indicated.

“So, ya got your own place, huh? Snazzy,” he commented as they went, figuring that was a benign enough topic to discuss even if they were still in the public eye. He wondered how long Thomas had been here, to have a place of his own rather than just staying with Isidore. Huh. Maybe he should have come back to Port Vale sooner after all.

---

Thomas was relieved that Mike agreed to follow him without question. He headed for the apartment with a bit of urgency in his long strides. There was so much he needed to explain, and truthfully, he was worried about how his brother would receive it. He was sure it was upsetting, to hear that someone you'd been close with had forgotten so much about you. It was upsetting to him, and he wasn't even sure what it was he'd lost.

"Isidore helped me find it," he replied as he made his way up the stairs to his place. "I thought having my own place would be essential to...you know, blend in properly. I want the people of this town to accept me, after all." He pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door to his apartment, gesturing for Mike to go in first.

The apartment was small and old, but it was cozy rather than dilapidated. It had big windows that let in plenty of sun, and it was nicely decorated with plants and trinkets that Thomas had found around town. It was so clean surfaces practically sparkled; he'd spent a week deep-cleaning the place when he'd first moved in.

There was one thing that Mike might find strange, though. Before his disappearance, Thomas was obsessively neat, keeping everything in its proper place. But this apartment was positively cluttered. Journals, books, and maps left lying out, dishes that had yet to be put away...things he'd begun, before getting distracted either by a memory of the past or a reminder of the present. Beyond that, the walls of kitchen they entered were covered in sticky notes, little reminders he'd left for himself, just in case.

.

Gabi scoffed. She should have foreseen that this was going to be even more of a frustrating conversation than her fondest hope. For some reason, when she had played out the idea of the events in her head, it had all gone smoothly. Maybe it was awkward, but there hadn’t been too many questions in her idealized vision of what was supposed to happen here. So much for trying out optimism. 

“No, I don’t want advice.” Gabi crossed her arms, and turned away in annoyance. This was her way of apologizing without having to be too weak. It was supposed to be the fair way of going about this. “Tell me about the exhibits and materials you played a part in working on. What you think is important about them. What their worth is. Then I’ll donate to your museum, and you will have had the chance to explain yourself. Don’t read into this as anything other than giving you the chance to speak your piece.” She didn’t even know why she bothered. Not understanding Thomas’ hesitance, she was of half a mind to just… leave if he wasn’t going to bother doing anything when she had come all this way (and avoided Mellora very effectively, even).

---

Thomas's confusion only grew as Gabi insisted that he talk about the museum. He stared at her, inclining his head toward the side. It was clear she wanted something from him, but he couldn't say what. He glanced around them just to make sure no one was listening in, then looked back toward her.

"It’s Captain Drake, right?" he questioned, using her title in an effort to be polite. Mellora had confirmed after their first meeting that she was, in fact, a siren captain...though captain of what, Thomas hadn't the faintest idea. The sirens were rather funny like that. "You know you don't have to donate to the museum, right? It's enough that you purchased a ticket at the entrance. I don't really expect you to donate to an institution that you don't like very much."

c[]xxx[]:::::::::::::::>

Elistra hadn’t expected Thomas to get so worked up over her comment, so she couldn’t help but smile and try to cover a laugh with the palm of her hand as he sputtered. Her shoulders relaxed, and Elsitra could feel her guard lowering. Thomas wasn’t like the other hippocampi she’d met who were so mired in their own shadowed histories that she felt as if she were staring into an endless bog every time she looked at them. “You’re sure you’ve fought battles?” She asked, one eyebrow raised, almost teasing, though she was curious why he had phrased it like that.

Then she sighed. The very existence of other sirens in Port Vale was a weight that hadn’t left her shoulders in months. Her smile faded as quick as it had come and she crossed her arms in front of her. “But it is different here. That’s…” Elistra struggled with her words, looking down at the floor as if she might find the right words there. “That’s what makes it great. I just wish I could make them see that there could be more for them. I want them to know that their options aren’t so… limited.”

---

"Well, I...don't really remember," Thomas admitted, smile softening with a hint of embarrassment. Still, he plunged ahead, straightforward as he explained, "I don't remember most things. A century ago, I'm told I...disappeared, and whatever happened to me caused me to lose nearly all my memories. They are coming back, but dreadfully slowly, and not in any semblance of order."

He cleared his throat. "But I lived for millennia before I disappeared, so it simply stands to reason that I engaged in battle." Although, he certainly had no memory of such a thing. He cleared his throat and added, "I know I've seen battles, at least." Now that rang true, alongside a hazy, very distant memory of watching human warriors clash near the coast, spears meeting shields and occasionally skin. He'd been so upset by the violence of it that he'd refused to peek his head above the surface for a good few years after, despite his fellow hippocampi's urging.

"To return to your predicament," he said, a little unsettled by that memory, "I believe the issue is that while you may feel at home here and enjoy the differences from Assyria, they feel as though they've been ripped from their homes. They didn't really come here by choice, after all. They're desperate, they all are. Imagine if you were forced to return to the sea. Or swept off into outer space! Maybe you're a more adventurous soul than I am, but I can't imagine you'd be pleased if you were forced into an environment that was totally foreign to you when you already had a home you liked just fine."

Status: Closed starter for @thomasocuilinn Date: October ??, 2021 Location: Out and about around town

Coming ashore for the first time in a land visit was always tricky. At least with Port Vale though, Mike had an advantage - he’d been here before, so he knew where to go to get his hands on the basics. Once he looked the part in some totally not suspicious human clothes, he made his way through town and on over toward Isidore’s place. As he walked, his thoughts drifted to the dreams that had led him here. Mike had a tendency to go where his dreams seemed to guide him, even if he didn’t fully get why they were pointing in any particular direction. Port Vale made enough sense - more sense than a lot of his decisions seemed to on the face, if he was being honest. With the mermaid and siren leaders gathering there, he’d figured it would only be a matter of time before he’d wind up joining the crowd. And while parts of what he’d dreamt made just as much sense - Gaya being there, for instance - there were other parts he was still trying to puzzle out. There were important pieces missing, he was sure of it. Didn’t have the faintest idea of what those pieces might be, but that was alright. 

No sooner than he had that thought, he caught sight of a familiar face in the crowd and stopped short. No way. Was that…? It couldn’t be. He squinted - either the world was playing a super freaky, messed up trick on him, or it was. “Thomas? Is that really you, bud?” Not waiting for an answer, he wrapped the man in a tight hug. “It’s so good to see you, man. I thought you were –” he cut off, eyes watering with emotion. “Where - where’ve ya been?”

---

Thomas had just been heading home from the Mermaid Museum when a man approached him and exclaimed his name. Thomas blinked back at him, startled - but he didn't have the chance to say anything before the man grabbed him. He stiffened, ready to fight back until he realized that it was a hug. And then he caught his scent. This was no human, he realized...although perhaps that should have been obvious from the fact that he knew his name.

Fragments of memories revealed themselves, details fuzzy but a hippocampus present in all of them. The same hippocampus hugging him now. As memories resurfaced, so too did a well of emotion. He laughed, disbelieving, though he could have just as easily cried. "Mike?! You..."

He pulled back, examining his face with wide eyes, as if he was trying to commit it to memory so that he would never forget it again. Giddy with awe and excitement over his new (old) memories, as piecemeal as they were, he exclaimed, "You're my brother!" 

A rather odd statement to hear from one’s long-lost brother, but Thomas didn't stop to think about that. Instead, he looked at the street around them. He caught a couple people staring at the reunion, and his face warmed. "We - we should go somewhere less public. I have an apartment very close by, just down this street. Don't dawdle, the humans are watching us," he urged under his breath.

—

     Without thinking about it, Weldon instinctively reached into his shirt pocket and grabbed a cigarette. As he lit it, he absorbed every word of what Thomas was saying. “Alright,” he took a hit of his cigarette, “now we’re closer to being on the same page. Is there anything you can tell me about Atla’s death?Anything strange leading up to it at all?” He dug deep for any answer he could get, maybe he should take a walk over to see Mel, maybe she could tell him more, something Thomas didn’t remember or was overlooking. He exhaled the hot smoke from his lungs.

     Weldon chuckled, despite the dark subject, “Well it seems you and Mellora are a little ahead of me on the search for answers,” Weldon looked at Thomas confidently, “but Assyria is safe for now, the answers are here, the sooner we find them, the safer Assyria will be, you needn’t worry.” He took another drag off his cigarette, breathing the smoke in deep. He didn’t really know if Assyria was safe, but there was no use in guarding Assyria, when nobody knew what they would be guarding it from.

   “Exactly,” Weldon said, exhaling a plume of gray disease, “and if your disappearance is directly connected, there is a chance we can get all of our brothers back.” Though it was only wishful thinking, Weldon was counting on that. It was hard enough for him to step up and accept responsibility when Thomas disappeared, maybe if the rest of them came back, his burden would feel even lighter. Maybe he could sleep at night.

---

Thomas wrinkled his nose at the smell of the cigarette. "What is that? Don't you think this alleyway smells terrible enough?" He took a step back and shot Weldon a disgusted look. Funnily enough, the more he complained about his brother's awful habit, the more like himself he felt. He got the sense he'd spent a lot of time nagging his brothers. For their own good, a little voice in his head insisted.

But they'd been talking about Atla's death. A subject that Thomas was very reluctant to return to. He looked away, voice sullen as he questioned, "Besides the fact that she died at all? And that no heir was born to replace her?" His shoulders slumped. "Nothing that I can think of. I was in her kingdom, staying at her court, but I wasn't actually with her when it happened. Nobody really knows what happened to her, as far as I can tell. I questioned everyone I could."

He returned his attention to Weldon, doing his best to conceal his grief for Atla. He wanted to keep Weldon's spirits up - so he nodded, despite his doubts. He didn't even have the first idea what had happened to him. And besides, without the help of Seraphina, he would have died. If what happened to him had happened to his brothers, he didn't have much hope for them. "Now that we're all here, I'm sure we'll be able to work together. We'll do everything in our power to get them back."

    xx

     For centuries, the hippocampi had shared the sea together, longer than any of them could even put a date towards; so Isidore was keen to how Thomas felt, as if the hundred years of absence between them (was it more?) had done nothing to decay that bond. He saw it, the flicker of intrigue, the thrill of something new, such a rare occurrence… he saw it, the embers of what they had all felt, as Assyria was born, and as their home changed in remarkable ways. Isidore wished he could mirror that look with his own eyes, but his were only pits of regret, the flame long since snuffed out. “Does she?” Isidore hummed, but honestly, he didn’t really care - she may be successful, or she may not.

   As long as it got them out of his town, and into the sea, whatever may come of it. But that wasn’t entirely true, either. He could deny the curiosity all he wanted, but the concern was palpable. Against his better judgement, he’d came to care for many of the sea dwellers, even if they had found home on land, for now. That would end, and they would return, and Isidore did find a sense of relief knowing someone like Mellora, a good head on her shoulders, was working towards a solution already. 

   “Before anyone does anything, we need to be sure of her intentions with the mayor,” Isidore said, a long silence stretching before he spoke, considering what to say. Of course, he spoke out on concern for the town, and it’s humans; and said nothing of the mermaids and sirens who were also dealing with this. “She knows you are on to her, I assume - or, at least, Mellora is. She may have noticed you, too. It is best not to directly approach her, or the mayor. You need a better plan. You need to find the others like her.” Ones that don’t have their little seal claws sunk right into the heart of the town.

---

Thomas gave Isidore a curious look. "Do you really think she's seeking power within the town? I struggle to imagine why. Port Vale seems, for the most part, a perfectly ordinary human town. Despite its extensive history with mermaid lore." 

His brows furrowed. "Though perhaps the selkies are seeking out human territory since there isn't much unclaimed territory in Assyria? I suppose they might not have the same fear of humans that sirens and mermaids do."

Now there was a troubling thought. Thomas certainly hoped that these new creatures didn't want to wage war on humanity. He sorely doubted that they'd be successful. He had distant memories of the brutality of human warfare, and their technology had advanced tenfold since he'd returned too land.

"Not that Siobhan expressed any such intentions in her letter," he hurried to say, not wanting to trouble Isidore any further. "Mellora didn't seem to think she's very dangerous. But you're right, we should keep our guard up. I won't let any harm come to your home."

He pressed a hand to Isidore's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "And in the meantime, I'll try to keep my senses alert for any other selkies. If you run into any, you will let me know, won't you?"

@thomasocuilinn​

Gabi had done her part by not engaging too closely with Thomas, but she had also completely botched all attempts at future neutrality. Not engaging with someone was completely different from making them loathe you.

Hiding around and waiting for a time when Mellora was out of the museum may have not have been Gabi’s most conventionally polite idea, but it was better than having to encounter someone she resented. The focus needed to be on the person that she was ready to speak to- not the one that made her upset for existing. At least Thomas had the good grace not to lead the North Atlantic. As surreptitiously as she could manage, she extracted herself from her hiding spot and pretended like everything was normal. That was a completely typical location to enter from. Walking with purpose, she entered the museum with a mission in mind.

“Hello,” she greeted Thomas when she found him. Without pausing for long, she launched into her thoughts quickly so that he couldn’t protest. When she wanted to, she could speak rather quickly. “I’ve come here to discuss fonts in more detail and here more about your other arrangement choices and preferences. I won’t say anything until you’re done even if I don’t like what you’re saying because I should at least hear you out. If you don’t want to engage, that’s fine. I’ll leave you alone and won’t come back.” Gabi danced around apologies here, but she wanted to see how favorable Thomas’ reaction would be before groveling or doing anything humiliating.

---

Thomas had to admit, he was a little surprised to see Gabi back so soon. After all, the siren had seemed rather bothered by the museum (and its font choices) the last time that she'd been there. Still, when he caught sight of her, he smiled, ready to welcome her with his typical introduction to the museum.

She didn't give him the chance. His smile faded as she launched into a spiel of her own, insisting that they discuss fonts and arrangement preferences again. Thomas stared blankly. He remembered their last conversation, of course, but - what, she wanted to repeat that? The little siren had quite a strange way of talking. "You...want me to tell you about how I designed the exhibits?"

He found himself growing nervous, as if he were a human about to be interviewed for a prestigious job. Was she just doing this so that she could mock his choices and run off again? Still, he stepped backward toward an exhibit. "Well, you see, here I chose the font and plaque placements so that they would guide the viewer's eye, while not distracting from the exhibit itself. Er -" He looked back to Gabi, brows furrowed. "I'm sorry, I’m not sure what this is. Are you looking for advice, or...?"

…

“So you can see why I … wait. You knew somebody actually named Calliope?” Tiago squinted at Thomas suspiciously, as if this would be something a person would lie about. “Were her parents addled or something? Or classicists? Or new age? Or Greek, I guess.” 

But Thomas’ extremely generous reaction to hearing that Tiago was a writer dulled down some of his sharp edge, and he softened incrementally. “Yeaaaah,” Tiago said with an outblown breath, then rubbed the back of his head, smiling sheepishly. “Yeah, fiction primarily, although I’ve dabbled in non-fiction and some ill-advised poetry.” He rearranged his satchel and huffed, “I should hope you’d be able to find my books in the library, my first two were pretty well-received. I haven’t checked.”

That was a lie; it was the first thing he’d done upon moving to Port Vale, and was gratified to find that even though Unzip Me and The Fabric of Blood were four and two years old respectively, they still enjoyed enough circulation for the library to have multiple copies. Hardcover, even. “Tiago Nussbaum, is who you wanna look for.” 

He listened as Thomas went on to talk about his interest in something beyond humanity, something greater and grander out there, about to ask if this ventured into the religious when Thomas himself answered that question. “You’re very thoughtful,” Tiago said, stroking his chin, not particularly thinking how condescending that might come off. “Contemplative. I like that. There’s so many cynics running around these days who write everything off as the opiate of the masses rather than having – what did you say? – scope of existence.”

Thomas’ polite question made Tiago hum in his own turn of thought before he answered, somewhat more invested now in actual conversation with this lad instead of being belligerent. “I wanted to gauge the tone of it,” he said. “To see if you were being literal, or kitschy, or sarcastic. Plus in a way it’s the heart of this town, isn’t it?” Tiago gestured around. “All of this love for mermaids, but underneath that it’s fondness for imagination and the breadth of existence, particularly in Port Vale. I like getting a feel for a place and its heart is one of the most valuable places to start.”

---

Thomas just shrugged at Tiago's questions about Calliope, with a quiet, "I'm not sure." He didn't remember, of course, but even if he did...he didn't like the way Tiago was looking at him like he'd just admitted to something terribly strange. He would have to be more careful not to say anything out of the ordinary.

He smiled when Tiago said that his first two books should be in the library, though. "I'll have to stop by the library after my shift, then," he said. Though his tone was almost teasing, he was genuinely excited to read what Tiago had written. Fiction was such a beautiful window into the minds of humans. And he was very curious about Tiago's mind. He had such an interesting way of thinking about things.

His smile grew a little self-conscious when Tiago called him thoughtful, though he straightened in a way that almost suggested he was preening. "Well, thank you, I suppose. I've had a lot of time to think," he said, with a soft chuckle. But Tiago didn't know how old he was, so he supposed that joke would hardly make sense. He added, "The museum doesn't get all that much business in the colder months. It means I have quite a bit of spare time." It was true, after all.

He looked around the museum, expression fond. "I'm not sure I'd be so arrogant as to say that this museum is the heart of the town. It's not even run by locals anymore. But I'm quite touched that you think of it that way. I certainly agree that Port Vale cherishes imagination. Have you traveled a lot?"

   xx

   “No, no, not at all-” Isidore shook his head quickly, hoping to reassure Thomas that his memory hadn’t failed him that much. “I hardly even know of them, it is- was… some human myth. Seals that turn into human by shedding their furs. Lots of nonsense about the bewitching of men-” His tone rose an octave, a mockery of the saying, but Isidore barreled on; only ever speaking this much when something important was being discussed. The last time it had happened was months ago; when he’d stayed up with Thomas for a full night, regaling stories of their time in the seas, when Assyria was both young and developed. A trip down memory lane that had weighed on Isidore’s heart sense, but those thoughts were far from mind now. “Basically. Magical seals,” Isidore summarized reluctantly, expression grim as he echoed Renzie’s exact words of description of the creatures. 

   Of course, Thomas reacted close to what Isidore expected. While he agreed with much of what Thomas said, there was a definite shift in focus when it came to concern; his brother looked to Assyria’s safety, but Isidore saw Port Vale sitting right in the viewpoint of chaos. “Familiar, hmm?” He breathed out. “Connections to Assyria, now she is here. Her and everyone else,” It was said in a grumling tone. Isidore had eventually been open with Thomas, about his lack of interest in Assyria, his desires to put it all behind him. “Selkies are new. Just the like sirens…” 

   There was a warning in Isidore’s voice. They had all seen this before. The unspoken words hung in the air - could Assyria, could the mermaids and sirens, handle another war with a new species? Now? On top of everything else; was Assyria destined to make the same mistakes? 

---

Magical seals. A new species. A great unknown. Thomas shook his head, puzzling over it. Of course, he supposed that selkies weren't so different from hippocampi. With their extreme transformations, they seemed even more similar to hippocampi than the mermaids and the sirens. Would their lifespans be the same? So many unanswered questions. It was terrifying. And, frankly, a bit exciting. Finally, they had a potential lead.

"Mellora's committed to addressing this diplomatically," he assured Isidore. "She wants to extend an olive branch, to help them and to be their ally, if they need one. Frankly, she's more optimistic about it all than I am. I don't want a war, either, of course, but I can't shake a sense of...resentment, I suppose, over what happened to Atla. I'm worried that they might advance the darkness, though I think they might also be the key to stopping it. I’ll follow Mellora’s lead regardless, of course.”

He shook his head. "The letter is just so vague. Clearly, Miss Siobhan is not telling us all she knows. But I have no idea where to start. I think it could be dangerous, to approach her directly, but she's also the only selkie we know of thus far. What do you want to do about, Isidore? I know you want to stay out of all this, but you must have an opinion."

c[]xxx[]:::::::::::::::>

Elistra nodded slowly as Thomas spoke. It wasn’t surprising that Thomas would side with the mermaids. Most hippocampi had known mermaids for longer, their relationships spanning generations. If sirens were looking for allies in them, then they were at a severe disadvantage tactically speaking. However, as there only seemed to be a handful of hippocampi left, it was improbable they’d make much of a difference if war did break out again. But that it was on Thomas’s mind, and that he’d already made his decision, mattered.

“Isisdore doesn’t really believe that, anyway,” Elistra said casually, turning away from studying Thomas openly. Instead she tried to pick out the names from the newspaper clippings and memorize them. “He’s just afraid of losing more than he already has. As if it won’t be taken from him eventually if he does nothing.”

But this wasn’t about Isidore. This was about the larger picture, the one that involved all of Assyria, and now, Port Vale. “I hope we can come to a conclusion that doesn’t involve bloodshed. You don’t seem much like a warrior, Thomas. Are you happy here? Giving tours and in closer proximity to your brothers? I think if we can find places like this for the sirens and mermaids who are the most hurt, tensions will lessen. I’ve been trying to soften up the sirens to human activities, but I’m not sure if any of it has taken hold. It’s difficult to reach through the murky waters of hundreds of years of anger.”

---

Thomas's expression grew thoughtful as Elistra gave her analysis of Isidore. It was no surprise that he would be afraid of losing the life he'd built for himself, after his life in Assyria had been destroyed. But Elistra was right. Standing still would do little to protect it. And besides, Isidore was already being dragged into this mystery, regardless of whether he wanted to stay out of it. If a war broke out, he suspected it would be much the same.

Contemplation turned to shock when Elistra said he didn't seem much of a warrior. "Well, now, that's - I'm sure I've fought battles before! I-I can be quite fearsome when I want to be, you know! You can't just assume -" He wasn't even convincing himself. He sighed, a wry smile softening his features as he looked back to Elistra. "...I suppose I'm a bit more of a pacifist. I certainly don't enjoy the prospect of war."

He scratched his chin. "I do enjoy it here, yes. I adore the museum. But this is far from my first time on land. For the sirens and mermaids who are newer, and who never had any interest in being here in the first place, it may not be so easy to settle in. Perhaps trying to get them acclimated to human activities isn't the best approach to lessening tensions. You may have to meet them where they are, so to speak, and show them that this place isn't so different from their own homes instead of trying to introduce them to even more new things."

—

There was a clear gap in Thomas’ memory that Weldon realized was completely blank. The first thing he remembers after he disappeared was being around when Atla died. Before that he remembers the war and Sirens being introduced to the oceans. Weldon sighed and clasped Thomas’ shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out. Together.” he didn’t know whether he was lying to reassure his brother or if he really believed they could rise above it.

“I ought to catch you up then,” Weldon led him to an abandoned part the beach as he spoke in a hushed voice, “Sirens have been in the water for nearly 500 years. The war has been over for 50 years. The two sides agreed to some bogus peace treaty,” Weldon had tried to tell Sophie it wasn’t over when the terms had been agreed upon, and though she trusted him, he always felt like nobody else did. “it stopped the fighting, but it didn’t stop the clear divide between cultures. Many of the Assyrian Mermaids rejected Sirens as nothing more than savage war-mongers. The two still remain at odds today.”

“Since the war has ended though, there have been strange occurrences. Atla’s Pendant goes missing, and ends up here,” Weldon continued to explain, “then a violent storm sweeps it back into the ocean. Port Vale seems to be at the center of all of it, I don’t know if the Mer followed the problem up here, or if the problem followed them, but things have only gotten worse since then.” He could feel the darkness in his gut. Whatever caused the Hippos to disappear wasn’t done causing chaos.

“I had to get up here and find our brothers, we are not safe,” Weldon told his brother the truth, “it all has to be connected, the disappearances of our brothers, you, the war… All of this shit.” Weldon looked at his brother awaiting questions or a response. It was all getting too real and Weldon knew it was his job to keep what was left of his kind safe.

Thomas managed a small smile when Weldon clasped his shoulder. Together, he insisted, and Thomas nodded in agreement. He didn't want to burden his brothers too much with his own troubles, not after they'd already spent so long worrying about him, grieving him. But he did appreciate the fact that he wasn't alone anymore.

"I knew some of that," he said softly, once Weldon was finished. "I've been in Port Vale for a while now. I arrived with Mellora earlier this year. After...returning, I suppose, I traveled to the North Atlantic, remembering that I had been close to the North Atlantic princess before and that I had promised to help her. I was there when she died." He looked away, expression creasing with sorrow.

"But when Mellora was elected leader and decided to travel to Port Vale to seek out the cause of the darkness, I asked to come along. I believed I owed it to her to help her. We've learned precious little when it comes to the darkness threatening Assyria, though. I'm worried that with so many of us here, we've left Assyria unguarded. But now that I've found Isidore, Mike, Ronan, you - well, I can hardly leave." 

He sighed. "I believe you, of course. I think the darkness is tied to the disappearances of our brothers, certainly. Perhaps even what happened to me. But I have no idea what we can do about it."