Myca, on the other hand, isn’t brave enough to get too close to the sea. It calls to him endlessly and he fears that so much as one lap of seawater against his bare feet will lure him back to long abandoned home. It isn’t that he doesn’t love his home. It’s the memory of watching everyone who tried to love him drown that makes him melancholy about it. It’s what prompted him to leave and live among humans on the land.
Years later, he still wanders to the beach now and then. The song of the sea calls to him, but her voice is soothing, too. So familiar, so pleasant after the din of traffic, the vibrations of human machines, the hum of their electricity, their constant talking on the streets around him. Of course he misses home, but he dare not go back.
And his years on land have been lonely ones. It’s his voice that drives them mad, so when Myca left the ocean, he vowed to never speak again. He didn’t realize how difficult it would be to create friendships without speaking. Under the waves, there were other ways to communicate; ways that seem to be absent here. OR maybe these people are too involved in their own thoughts to read the subtleties of expression and body language.
In spite of his worries, Myca likes spending his evenings at the beach. He likes listening to the water lap at the sand, to the children laughing and cheering when the waves chase them, the splashing. It’s a small but definite happiness that helps the dark memories that drove him to land. He’s less lonely there, surrounded by people who seem to be so carefree, at least for the moment.
He likes the little shops and the whole ecosystem that’s sprung up around it. Humans keep their shops at a respectful distance lest the sea swallow them up. They keep their more irksome noises (traffic) away from the water. But the shops are filled with shiny baubles and keepsakes to remind the humans of their day in the sun and sand.
And the food!
Myca happens to be a few people behind Aqua in the line. The strange exchange told him volumes. This boy wasn’t from the land either. He didn’t understand the way humans bought and sold things (everything!) for paper and metal deemed to have value. A strange thing, but one that Myca learned to adapt to. So, when his turn comes, he orders two. And while the selkie is pondering his next move beside the food cart, Myca gently taps his shoulder and holds out the food he bought for Aqua.
no subject
Years later, he still wanders to the beach now and then. The song of the sea calls to him, but her voice is soothing, too. So familiar, so pleasant after the din of traffic, the vibrations of human machines, the hum of their electricity, their constant talking on the streets around him. Of course he misses home, but he dare not go back.
And his years on land have been lonely ones. It’s his voice that drives them mad, so when Myca left the ocean, he vowed to never speak again. He didn’t realize how difficult it would be to create friendships without speaking. Under the waves, there were other ways to communicate; ways that seem to be absent here. OR maybe these people are too involved in their own thoughts to read the subtleties of expression and body language.
In spite of his worries, Myca likes spending his evenings at the beach. He likes listening to the water lap at the sand, to the children laughing and cheering when the waves chase them, the splashing. It’s a small but definite happiness that helps the dark memories that drove him to land. He’s less lonely there, surrounded by people who seem to be so carefree, at least for the moment.
He likes the little shops and the whole ecosystem that’s sprung up around it. Humans keep their shops at a respectful distance lest the sea swallow them up. They keep their more irksome noises (traffic) away from the water. But the shops are filled with shiny baubles and keepsakes to remind the humans of their day in the sun and sand.
And the food!
Myca happens to be a few people behind Aqua in the line. The strange exchange told him volumes. This boy wasn’t from the land either. He didn’t understand the way humans bought and sold things (everything!) for paper and metal deemed to have value. A strange thing, but one that Myca learned to adapt to. So, when his turn comes, he orders two. And while the selkie is pondering his next move beside the food cart, Myca gently taps his shoulder and holds out the food he bought for Aqua.