He worked up to more syllables with a few aborted growls from deep in his throat. I mouthed along to the framing he did with his lips, getting a better idea for what he was trying to say. His smaller teeth, with two cracked, looked like they were forming an F.

My pale skin looked especially white against his grey scales. He let me drop my hand and brushed my hair back from my face.

His lips moved to clumsily form the first part. “Ffffff-ooor. Four-c-coal.”

“For-kol?” I parroted with the same slow framing, testing the name.

His happy nod and clumsy gestures alongside the unpractised smile warmed the deepest part of my cold black heart. I fished out two of the biggest oysters I could get, three left inside. I held them up and he shot a glance from the shells to my face again. Those grey eyes looked more human the longer he stayed in his alternate shift, but I hoped he didn’t lose his pretty silver eyes. There were no pupils yet, only thin slits inside the sea of silver. The whites of his now 'humanoid eyes' were milky.

“Eat,” I urged. “I bought them for you.”

“M-miii?” He tried.

“You,” I affirmed and he touched one, poking it. I took his hand, turned it to be palm up and placed them there. His claw slid in the tiny parting to crack it open. I could feel his hesitance when I waited for his approval. A long, serpentine tongue slid out of his mouth and sucked up the insides. The second got eaten just as fast and a flush spread along his greyish-green skin. “Nice? I have more.”

He rumbled deep in his chest and I laughed, slapping the ground with my hand as I stood.

“Four-coal, right?” I asked as I sat on some new rags and chomped on a fish freshly caught by my buddy, 'Furkol'. His vocal chords were a little easier to use when he wasn't carting around that impressive gob of teeth and I grinned when he rubbed a clawless hand along his smoother jaw.

He nodded slowly and I scooted closer to touch his hair. He ducked his head so I could brush more curls through with my fingers. “Where have you been? I've been looking for you the past few days,” I whined and his eyes widened, astonishment in those clear orbs. “Oh don't give me that look. You left me on the beach. I was worried.”

“A'out me?” His pronunciation got better the longer he spoke. A tongue flicked along his newly formed lips and I laughed, craning my neck up to kiss his cheek. His whole body quivered and locked up. I mentally reminded myself to ask next time, in case this scared him. I bumped my nose against his cheek in apology and grinned when he brushed back just as much.

“Of course. This page is about you,” I showed him the page and the loopy handwriting. His eyes swept over the first page and I grinned as he made a low huffing noise. “The picture is not very accurate, but the barbs and stuff look wicked, don't they?” I mused. “I drew a better one. See?”

While he looked at the folded picture I had carefully taped to the side of the page, I scanned the text for the seventh time today.

The rest of the book was just as interesting.

“Extracts From the Journal written by Mahlia Swanson and her gorgeous Singer, Oberontonu

(O<) 'Fish-People' are unique in that their genetic make up and energy take after many aquatic forms. There are exceptions to the ‘fish aspect’, one of them being the The Lish'poi (Remnants of the orca genus, have no external gills).

(÷) Moon Madness. A condition that all Fish people go through once the hormonal fluctuations of puberty hits them. Either from birth or through strains on the genes that awaken the mer bloodline. During this time, Mother Moon casts her gaze down and hopes that her race of proud children will continue on her lines. It is also referred to as 'Mating Madness'. They fuck (oops. No cussing, silly me! Bad Mahlia!) Copulate like bunnies in the mortal sense. Females are most fertile during this time for one night alone and hormones reach an all new high. It is also, sadly, a time in which males find themselves raped in many cases. Of course, they can do nothing to say no to the whims of the dominant sex (according to some cavemen idiot bastards that still believe males don’t have rights! They can’t say no to my curses then, by that logic). Apparently ‘no means no’ isn’t a thing here and for a male to say no, it’s spitting on the Mother Moon and her desire for children out of these nights. (Disgraceful whores hurting these men! Utterly barbaric!)

(÷) Mating rituals of the Depths. Where there are countless species of Mer, there’s not that much variance with the rituals around mateship. There’s 'strutting' and displays of dominance for the majority of species. A little different to those on land. Under the waves, females are the dominant, the protector. The males vie for her attention, and in many cases undergo many of the courtships to be outlined in the following pages. From what I have observed in the culturally rich-rural reaches of the ocean, there are a crazy amount of methods that coalesce with one another. So many tribes, so many nuances.
A common factor is proving that the male is worthy of her attention and mateship. He will parade himself as something 'pretty' (yes, like my Oby; he is very pretty and all mine!) And even battle other males for the honour of having a powerful female mate. Physical touch from one male is as powerful as scenting the other and male, if touched on the arm by the lady, will begin to feel as though he is winning. To keep being a bachelor Mer, you must distance yourself from potential suitors and depending on your desires, may release specific hormones that will warn others against courtship attempts.’

I turned to my new favourite page where Furkol’s species was. I ran my fingertip along the lines.

(÷)'Lu'pit'. A lesser-known-fact is that they have an alternate form. This is his hunting form. They can go without the bottom jaw being so... toothy. They can make human noises, but clicks are more common. Like a dolphin. These (drawings) look like crude etches of him. It includes the barbs along the eel-like tail. This form is caused by an influx of chemical reactions and similar adrenaline hormones to humans. They have specialised glands in their bodies that are remnants of their draconic ancestry and mean they can stay in that heightened state of defence far longer than most mers. I do not know how long they can hold this form but the longest I could weasel out of some elders was two weeks.”

40 pages worth of key information came before the Lupit entry.The author’s very acerbic comments and humour leaked through when she tried hard to come off as academic. Her rare footnotes were either purely professional or bouts of unprecedented profanity. They made me laugh more than once.

Furkol made a rumbling noise and dragged his body back. I went with him, half crawling after. He slid over the smooth lip of his shallow pool bed into the clear water and picked up a fishbone. It gleamed pearly white in the natural light filtering from above. He touched my shoulder and I glanced up to see heart-wrenching worry in the gaze. “Air rush?” He stumbled over the word with a heavy tongue.

I nodded. His fingers twitched awkwardly near my hair.

“That'd be brilliant, Furkol. Yes please,” I smiled, grabbing his hand with my tiny one. “Do whatever makes you comfortable because I'm really comfy here.”

Bless his solid chest and perfectly warm scales. When he didn’t shy away, I flopped there and shut my eyes with my cheek pressed to his chest. A huff moved my head and his gills fluttered. The comb very gently hovered near my hair until teeth thread through my hair. With the barest of pressure, it felt more massage than brushing. Long sweeps of the comb teeth teased my wet hair from knots.

I’d never known this would make me so weak until now.

My mother had always forced me to have a short haircut so she wouldn't have to brush it much.

Miles would (jokingly) say that my hair wanted to spite them as much as I did and had grown faster than most children went through colouring books.

The last time Mother gave me an ugly bob hair-cut, I was 12 and barely ever talked to my parents. They threw in the towel and I learned to take care of the tangles and knots after.

Furkol had more patience for my hair than I ever did in my life. Every time a knot snagged the comb, the clawed hand would come up to gently card through the affected area until the knot gave way. “Mm, feels nice,” I slurred, setting the book down on the dry side and away from the water when I hit the 50 page mark. I wriggled around until I could lie flat on my belly against his chest, yawning. “You smell sooo nice too.”

I drifted closer to sleep with the unwavering brush. When he stopped, I cracked open an eye to frown up at him. My bottom lip jutted out and a barking chuckle came from his lips. My pout died and a fond smile stretched across my face. “Not fair,” I whined. “You'll have to humour me by letting me nap on you. No putting me back up topside, or ditching me for a few days, okay?”

He let out a soft coo and I draped my arms over his shoulders. He rolled us around until the water lapped at my skin and a thick arm kept me up. This pool felt 'small' compared to him. He fit snugly but didn't have much room to stretch out completely. By human standards, it was the size of two average kiddy-pools and a half. Maybe three. I had enough space to float away, not that I’d ever want to.

Without the fungi all over his shoulders and neck, he felt smoother when he rubbed his jaw against my head.

“Yes, you're comfortable. We should go swimming later,” I offered. “Maybe you can show me parts of the lagoon? That pretty light thing you can do with your scales too.”

“O-kay,” He made a strange attempt to smile and I grinned back. “Warm?”

“Very,” I chirped and yawned widely. “Night night.”

*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*

I woke up with a grin and snuggled against the scales. The steady rise and fall of his chest almost put me back to sleep. I traced shapes against his arm, stunned by this crazy display of trust. A nonstop rumbling in his chest reminded me of a purring kitten, except it belonged to a very much not fluffy mer that could pop a grown man’s skull in his fist.

He didn't startle or twitch when I reached up to me poke his jaw, inches above a set of fluttering gills. They must be cleaned regularly, I thought with a hum. His tail had come up and around my legs, keeping them warm and tucked close.

“Aw, so sweet,” I whispered and poked his cheek when he made a growly purr and pressed into my palm. “Cuddly too. Hey, where do you keep your fish? We can eat a late breakfast.”

“Leh me,” He said, on his forth try to form the words.

A burning, nagging need in my gut got me moving. I leaned back and propped myself up. “Nope. You point the stash out,” I said.

A remnant of a smile twisted his thin lips before he pointed to a wicker basket over my shoulder. The inside had clumsily pressed plastic tarp and a few random cuts in the blue mesh. A stack of thirteen fish lay inside, all varying shades of pink to silver. They were thicker meaty prey and perfect for a good snack. I picked up three by the tails and carried them over. “Two for you,” I announced happily and scrambled over to sit on his stomach. He had reclined back with the sponges against his shoulders.

He ate slow, taking small bites from the guts and then the sides. He stared as much as I did while I gutsed into my own fish. I didn't have his grace or manners, with hunger gnawing at my stomach.

 He finished his food off before me and dipped his hands into the water. The blood got scrubbed away and the remains of the fish carcass got left on the stone next to the pool. I left my lunch remain with his and licked my teeth to get whatever little bits stuck in my teeth. I snatched his hand when he reached up to play with my hair.

“Tank you,” He rolled his syllables around in his mouth.

“You caught them. You caught me,” I laughed and bit at a part of his second fish to test him. He didn't mind that I'd taken a chunk out of the fish at all. He even laughed when I nibbled at his hand. Only Miles and Josh didn't flinch when I nipped a stray hand or shoulder. The book said Lupi were possessive of their meals. “So, you should definitely play 21 questions with me. Or 100, I don't mind,” I shrugged.

He made a strange gesture of moving his fingers and I took it as 'okay, explain'.

“I ask a question and you answer. Then, you ask a question and I answer. It helps us learn more about the other,” I answered. “Wanna go first?”

“U-Uh,” He hummed, clearing his throat. “F-family?”

“Mother, father. Both who consider me a grave disappointment, no siblings,” I smiled. “Better that way too. Less kids for my stiff-as-board parents to mess up. My turn. What about your family?”

“Don' know,” He answered, talking slower to get most of the words out. “Ma lef brothers early. We separa'e. I live by self after 10 cycles an' find this place la'er.”

Revulsion for that absentee mother lanced through my burning chest. How fucking dare she?! At least my parents spared the bare minimum money for my two meals and public schooling. They even gave a small allowance to keep me from starving at lunch until I hit 15. I sucked in a steadying breath and tried for calm. “Is that normal for a lot of Mers when it comes to handling family?”

“She wan'ed girl,” He shrugged. “On'y boys.”

“No offense, but she sounds like a right foul bitch,” I gave up on the pretense of collected calm. I could scorch the bitch for that absolute crime of leaving him behind. “A child is a child, and gender shouldn't affect how much you love them. My parents always complained they wanted a son, you know? But they never dumped me on someone's doorstep no matter how much they wanted to. It's just wrong of her to leave you and your brothers. Utterly despicable!”

His brows dipped and he clicked his tongue. He shouldn't be confused over someone’s offence on his behalf.

“You realise she's wrong, right? It wasn't your fault she left. She made a stupid decision and missed out on raising a beautiful family. I hope your brothers are okay,” I frowned. Were there some kind of wer police? The journal didn't specify about an established justice system and wrote about monarchy and territorial basis for rulings. “A–Anyway! You get to ask another question since I technically asked one.”

“F-fffren'?”