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open rp post
DROP IN PROMPTS, PICTURES, OLD THREADS, A POST OR EVEN TFLN BRING IT.
( cw: body horror, gore, violence & etc. in some threads + please label threads for such. )
DROP IN PROMPTS, PICTURES, OLD THREADS, A POST OR EVEN TFLN BRING IT.
( cw: body horror, gore, violence & etc. in some threads + please label threads for such. )
no subject
He sighs. Sits down on the bed facing her, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. The towel spilling from her lap briefly draws his glance to her legs. Bare, the scrapes and small cuts he cleaned gone without so much as a mark. Just like her head.
Where should he even start? The silence between them drags on for several more moments before he settles for: ]
Can you talk?
[ she seems to understand him just fine. But there's no point in asking more involved questions if she can't answer. Or if she doesn't want to.
Above the hum of the dull florescent light overhead comes the continued tapping of rain against the room's only window. It reminds him of the storm that swept through the town earlier in the evening. Compared to the ones back home that sometimes dragged in tornadoes behind them, it hadn't felt that fierce to Caleb, however hard the wind shrieked and howled at times. What exactly was she doing in the middle of all that to end up knocked out on the beach? And so far from the water? ]
no subject
at his question, zarina gives no response as she tilts her head to the side. of course she can talk and yet her voice refuses to rise from her throat ever since she wakes up — and her own caution silences her at the same time even should she had her voice.
the way the man sits... already zarina moves to hunch her upper body forward enough to rest her elbows on her knees, legs splitting apart enough until she's in the same position as caleb. towel still rests above her thighs as she looks towards his face once again with the same curious look on her own.
does she copy him right? ]
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Closing his eyes, he pinches the bridge of his nose and grumbles something under his breath. It's as much to allow him to take a second and gather his thoughts as it is to avoid staring at the curves of her cleavage—framed by his unzipped jacket—now made all the more noticeable by how she's leaning forward. Then he looks back up, meeting her curious gaze with his own sharp scrutiny. ]
Look, I know that you know what I'm sayin'. We're gettin' nowhere fast so long as you keep actin' like this.
[ even as he says that, he gets the sense he isn't going about this the right way. But coaxing answers out of people isn't one of Caleb's strong suits—or at least, doing it softly. And even then, it's never involved mysterious women spat up by the ocean. ]
Now: can you talk? Just nod or shake your head.
no subject
lips part, but not with the intention of speaking; a wordless "ooh" leaves past them as she raises one of her own hands and hovers over her own lips, s finger tracing across it as she notices: a scar across his lips.
injury and wounds occur with mermaids, but they never stay like they do with the other animals of the sea. are humans permanently damaged after a battle? she wonders briefly.
which means she gives him no answer to his question, instead asking him without words about the story of the scar. ]
no subject
He straightens up a little when she opens her mouth. But instead of speaking, she skims her fingertips over her lips, her gaze not wavering in the slightest. Puzzled, he brings his own hand up—does he have something on his face?—before realizing what she's wondering about. His scar, a pale line arcing up through the left side of his mouth and ending just shy of his eye.
Despite himself, he has to suppress a smile. A scar would seem odd to someone who apparently never has to worry about getting any of her own, wouldn't it. ]
This? Got it in a fight a while back. Man pulled a knife on me without considerin' I might've had one too.
[ "last mistake of his life," he almost finishes, but he doesn't. Nor does he take out the switchblade from his pocket. Frightening her definitely won't get him anywhere.
But he needs to try something else. Caleb thinks for a second, then taps his chest once, trying to soften his tone again. ]
Name's Caleb, by the way. And what can I call you?
[ a long shot, but who knows—maybe she'll actually answer that. ]
no subject
lips purse together tightly for a brief moment as caleb gives his name. finally, a name — no longer does zarina label him as this human who brings her onto land for whatever reason he gives. truthfully, she should thank him for doing so when she had trouble during the last storm. the human — he calls himself caleb — brings her somewhere in the world that should be populated by a school of humans as well.
it's her first few steps in the upper world and already there are a few things they have in common at least. like names — mermaids have names too, but only a single one that they live with for the rest of their life. a name wouldn't be terrible to give to him at least, right? from the tone of his voice, he's being relatively friendly.
c - a - l - e - b, she silently words out with her lips while tapping once against her own chest like he does. it's his name. is the hand gesture a greeting and not simply pointing at himself? it's the reason she does it again, this time with a look of delight while, soundlessly, saying her own name as though she were having a casual conversation with the man.
a twist of her head with her brows raising. does she greet him correctly? ]
no subject
Finally, progress. His own lips move soundlessly, trying to figure out what it is by copying her. He's about to venture his first guess—Serena?—when he pauses instead, wondering. What will she do if he gets her name not just wrong, but obviously so? Will it annoy or disappoint her enough to correct him out loud? ]
So... [ he trails off deliberately, brows knit together in a show of confusion. ] Sarah? Do I have that right?
[ the idea that maybe she really isn't able to talk nudges at him again, along with a faint memory of a... story about a mermaid becoming human at the cost of her voice. Something he heard or read when he was a kid. But he immediately dismisses it. She's clearly not human, legs or no legs. And she's real. Flesh and blood just like him.
For the most part, anyway. It's still too ridiculous to start using a fairy tale as some sort of guide—however much she seems to have stepped ( swam? ) straight out of one. ]
no subject
the look on her face immediately changes from pleasantly happy to shaking her head with an offended look. no, no! her name is not sarah! now that she's voluntarily giving caleb answers therefore he should be getting her name correct, right? though she lacks the sound of her voice, she words his name right.
immediately raising her hands with both index fingers pointing to her own lips — she still holds onto the towel with her other four fingers in one hand because caleb says to use it, and so she is — and begins to elaborate her own name in a slower pace.
"Zah" she words out, "Ree" and "Naa" she says. a pause to give caleb time to understand, and then she repeats. ]
no subject
All right. My mistake. [ and it's not Serena either, but— ] Zarina?
[ it isn't a name he's heard before. He doesn't spend long wondering about that though, because there's still the larger question of how well he can communicate with her if it all has to be done through gestures and lip movements. Or—does it? He tilts his head, another idea coming to him. If talking isn't an option, then...
Caleb gets up from the bed and goes to the desk. After shutting the drawers, he returns and sits back down. In his hands are an unlined notepad with the motel's name stamped on top and a pen, both a little worn like everything else in the room. The notepad's front page is filled with random scrawling and doodles, probably in an attempt by whoever stayed here before him to try and stay entertained. Turning to a new one, he writes Caleb.
Or tries to. The ink's not flowing. With an annoyed sigh, he presses down harder. The pale blue impressions deepen into legible letters in a quick, slightly untidy print. Then he holds the notepad and pen out to Zarina. ]
There's my name. [ he points at it with the top of the pen. ] Can you write yours?
no subject
speaking of — she wonders about doing so for a moment. how did she get here? how did caleb bring her to this place from the seas? even though she's wanted to walk on land for so long. the storms grants her wish in the end, with a twist that she doesn't expect that is. of course it's difficult to predict the storms despite sensing the currents change.
waking up in a cramp, small pool of fresh water is the last thing she expects.
so this is human writing, zarina thinks to herself as she traces the letters she's unable to read with her finger on new texture that she thinks is rough on her skin. nothing coarse like corals, something entirely new like learning more about caleb. taking hold of the pen, she looks at it first before looking back to him, and then back to the pen. writing requires hard stone or corals for mermaids to engrave their marks against almost anything they can do.
seems like the same requirements are necessary with how caleb has to repeat writing his name.
holding onto the pen unlike a regular person would — as though she were a murderer with a knife in hand — she begins to write the way she normally does below his. at first she digs into the notebook to the point where she tears the pages down along with it. that's not what happened with how caleb writes it as she pulls back her hand only to look at it again.
okay. gently; words she tells herself before she starts over again, this time trying to keep her movement light enough not to destroy the pieces of paper as she writes down — plenty of curves and design — her name. it's slow, the process, but not too long by the time she lets the pen drop on the desk.
on one hand, zarina writes her name just like he asks. on the other, it's completely illegible to the human eye. she makes a hand gesture for caleb to look while wording out her name again. ]
no subject
He sits back. Maybe he shouldn't be so surprised. Fish don't write, after all, and apparently her tendency to mimic him only goes so far. Bit by bit, everything's adding up to this being her very first time on land. And to him being the first human she's interacted with.
Now there's a laugh. God only knows what sort of impression he's making on her.
At Zarina's gesture for him to come look at her handiwork, Caleb stands and goes to her side, not expecting much beyond aimless scribbling. Yet what's actually written down makes him pause when he glances at it. Because it is writing. Leaning down, he traces the... letters? characters? with the same slow thoughtfulness as she did his name. There's an order to them. But it's not one he understands—although he might've guessed the language was Arabic if he hadn't watched how she wrote from top-to-bottom. ]
Lovely. [ ignoring the pen punctures around it, of course, the delicate flourishes and twists forming her name makes it look almost like calligraphy. ] Can't read it though.
[ straightening, he rubs his chin. Talking and writing are both out. Maybe she knows sign language... but he doesn't. What else can he try?
He picks up the pen again, then reaches over to flip the notepad to a new ( untorn ) page. ]
Here, you hold it like this. [ Caleb places the pen in her hand and carefully adjusts her grip until it's poised between her fingertips, similar to how he held it. ] Easier not to tear the paper this way.
[ he lets go and leans back against the desk, bracing his hands on its surface. ]
What about drawin'?
no subject
the truth of the matter with zarina is the last one along with several more secrets that humans have yet to dig up.
it is through their hands touching that she sees everything in a flash. the way the man writes, the way he speaks, the way others speak to him, but not all of his memories. zarina takes a look through his mind not to peek through the kind of person he is — it's tempting, but she only has a moment — but to take what he knows. some of the skills he has. all through a touch that doesn't make it obvious to anyone watching.
if it were erasing memories, however, that would be a completely different experience.
by the time caleb removes his hand off zarina realizes how to spell her name in english, learns various new words that she doesn't know the meaning of, and understands the symbols he writes on the notebook. pen still in hand as she holds it proper like how the man teaches her, but there's no movement on her end.
zarina could write down her name proper now, but instead she looks towards caleb with both brows raised as if to say what's drawing? ]
no subject
It's when you... well, draw pictures to tell other people your thoughts and ideas without usin' words. I'll show you.
[ Caleb takes the pen and notepad from Zarina. Turning back to the page with their names, he slants the notepad downward so she can see it more easily. Beneath Caleb, he draws a stick figure with a sketchy ponytail sprouting from its circular head/face with dots for eyes and a horizontal mouth crossed with a short slash for a scar. Then he draws another under Zarina's name. On this one, the "hair" reaches to where the "body" would split into legs—but he draws a triangular fish tail there instead. ]
Here's me and you.
[ obviously, he's no artist—but that's not the point of this, and reminding himself of that keeps embarrassment at bay. To the right of the mermaid Zarina figure, he adds another one that's almost identical, except with legs this time. Between the two he puts an arrow. ]
And there's you now. [ he pauses, then draws a sun above the first Zarina, adding a few lines to indicate rays shining down. ] When you get dry, your tail turns into legs. And that doesn't happen till— [ a line goes underneath the second Zarina. ] —you're on land.
[ he glances at her as he hands back the pen and notepad. ]
That about the way of it?
no subject
it's the sketch that also lets zarina understand that caleb knows how she gains legs. it's true, and an easy way for mermaids to get up on land if they wish. it's not common for them to walk with land dwellers, but more of exploring the sore with the sand on their feet — a first time for zarina despite the storm and sea clashing together.
toes curl against the carpeted floor and takes in a whole new sensation while she receives the pen and notepad once again. time to try drawing for herself.
what should she say to him? what does she want to say? nothing first as she decides to practice by creating her own image of caleb, copying his style and seeing if she does it correctly. it's not an exact copy, but similar enough to say she does. what follows is another, this time herself.
once that's done, zarina turns the page for a blank portion where she draws herself this time, once again with her tail. a pause, her hands freezing as the thought of her home comes to mind — the sea and all the mysteries even a mermaid has yet to find out. how the sun glimmers when she's beneath the surface of the moving waters.
that's what she begins to continue the drawing, making small waves that becomes her hair and then several more waves above her to indicate the sea waves. on the side she draws a straight line that caleb calls land. the sun above just like how he draws it.
just like that, right? says the look on zarina's face as she turns to look at him. ]
no subject
Zarina finishes and turns to him with an expectant look. The drawing's of herself under the waves, with the land and the sun above to the side. Caleb hesitates, then nods. This still doesn't tell him anything new—though it's a start, he supposes. And she seems to like it when he approves of what she does. ]
Did you come here on purpose? [ he pauses, then shakes his head and with a wave of his hand, dismisses the motel room. ] Not—here, you understand. Onto land. Or were you tryin' to go somewhere else in the sea before the storm happened?
[ he'd found her washed up on the beach, after all. Though if she did have another destination in mind, she's taking her sweet time leaving. ]
no subject
"I want to see what life is like on land."
"I want to know what the sea is missing, what humans live for."
three answers she could give caleb easily had she her voice, but even her own hum is muted as she taps the end of the pen against the notepad with her thumb, leaving small blue dots on the blank page. there's barely anything she knows of the upper world and that's the point of her desire to travel.
what does she want to see first? everything.
immediately it hits her as she begins moving her hand, once again mimicking caleb's sketch of her with legs, a straight line beneath her feet with the sun once again shining down on her. zarina extends the land longer than where she stands. zarina even draws the lines and arrows that he creates to indicate the direction of where she wishes to go.
when that finishes, she places the pen down and turns towards the door. different knob compared to the bathroom door when she tries to twist and turn it, but it doesn't. metal shakes as she tries and tries until her thumb presses down on the switch, nearly flinging it open until the scent of rain enters the room.
from there, she looks towards caleb once again as if to indicate that she wishes to go out and explore the world. ]
no subject
Zarina gets up, cutting off his confusion, and goes to the door. When she starts rattling the handle, Caleb's uneasiness returns in full force—oh, hell—and he springs to his feet. But she pulls open the door before he can get to it—and then just stands there, lit up by the glare of the motel's exterior lights flooding in, looking back at him with not a care about who else might be looking at her.
The door thuds as he slams it shut. The last thing he wants is someone else barging in here asking questions when he has barely any answers himself. His grip tightens on the handle before he lets go and turns to Zarina, exasperation clear in his expression. ]
For cryin' out loud, girl, you can't be doin' that when you ain't even dressed. [ the words come out harsh even to his own ears. Caleb exhales, trying to rein in his frustration. It's not her fault. But it is yet another knot in this already tangled mess of a situation. ] I won't keep you here if you want to go, but you're not goin' to get very far if your plan is to wander 'round without a clue about where you're goin'. [ pause ] Or without clothes. That just ain't how it's done—up here.
[ somehow, saying that—acknowledging aloud she came from another place, a world existing side by side with his—grounds him more than the sight of scales shifting into skin, or her strange behavior. Hadn't he had more than his fair share of upheavals in his life, getting thrown into the unfamiliar every time and expected to sink or swim all on his own? At least here, he can help her find her footing ( not literally, thank god she already knows how to walk ).
Caleb eyes the towel dangling from her hand that she only seems to be holding onto because he gave it to her. ]
I've got some you can wear for now. They're goin' to be big on you since they're mine, but it'll have to do till— [ you, he almost says before the ridiculousness of expecting her to buy clothes on her own catches up to him. ] —I can get somethin' that fits better.
[ the unspoken later implies she'll be sticking around for a while. That he'll be with her. There's a whole new string of problems wrapped up with that—but he can deal with each one as he gets to it. ]
Unless you want to stay like this, or— [ he indicates the bathroom with a nod. ] —go back in the tub?
no subject
it's something she has to learn while on land, zarina thinks to herself while looking towards the man as though asking for him to explain what it means. clothes to wear that he'll buy for her... it has the mermaid raise her hands with the sleeves pinned between her palm and fingertips — she still clutches onto the towel — and then back to him.
at the motion of his head back to the bathroom, already she shakes her head quickly as her lips purse together. the small pond he leaves her in is called a tub. quickly she begins to make a curving motion of her hands while bending her upper body forward, and then downward as though running her hands against her own tail while shaking her head again.
the tub causes her nothing but aches after sleeping for several hours; zarina squeezes the back of her shin to point it out as though it would be easier to explain.
maybe she should have drawn it, but it should be obvious that her answer is a clear no, right? ]
no subject
You woke up sore, huh. Yeah, sorry about that. Wasn't sure if you would've been fine outside of water.
[ he remembers his breath hitching as her tail formed in the filling tub. Somehow longer than her legs, it twisted and strained against its narrow confines before spilling out to hang over the edge. A transformation no less startling to see the second time around. In fact, it was there—watching her fins unfurl beneath the the bathroom's dingy light, scales sleek and shiny against the peeling paint of the walls—that the reality of the whole situation sunk in for him. Not a trick or prank. He wasn't just tired and seeing things. No, it's actually a real goddamn mermaid. What was he supposed to do, knowing that?
He'd pushed the question aside then, focusing instead on tending to her injuries ( unnecessary, apparently ) with what he had on hand. On the way back from buying more first-aid supplies, he'd half-hoped to find the tub—and the room—empty. But she'd stayed. And he still doesn't have a good answer now. He sighs. ]
All right, let's get you dressed.
[ Caleb goes to the closet to get one of his bike's saddlebags from the overhead shelf where he stowed them. Resting it on the bed, he opens it up and takes out his change of clothes for tomorrow: a black-and-white flannel, jeans, a pair of boxers and socks. He gathers them into a rough stack and holds it out to Zarina, expecting her to give him the towel in exchange. ]
You, uh—you need me to show you how to put 'em on?
[ it's probably a pointless question, but he might as well try to avoid any more awkwardness. ]
no subject
it only adds to the trust zarina has in the man.
looking at the clothes in her arms before looking back towards him, she doesn't give a definitive answer yet as she moves herself and places them on the nearby desk that's cluttered thanks to her. she raises the shirt first as if to get a better look followed by the jeans, the boxers — zarina slips an arm through it — and then one sock in each hand as she raises the pair up. what are these? how is she supposed to wear them? does she wear it on her hand like a glove?
with said sock worn covering her hand, she turning around and facing caleb while nodding; yes, she would like to be shown how to properly put the clothes on. how to dress right. ]
no subject
[ he mutters, stifling a smile. She looks ridiculous like this—but to her, he and all the humans she's seen probably do too, bundled up in so many layers that can only get in the way while swimming. He goes over to her, takes the sock off her hand and the boxers from her arm, then gathers up the other clothes from the desk. ]
Not like that. C'mon.
[ putting a hand on the small of her back, he guides her back towards the bed. On it, he lays the clothes out before her, keeping ahold of the boxers. ]
This is—well, it's underwear. Since it's worn underneath [ he taps the jeans. ] pants. This sort of style is for men. The ones for women look more different. [ usually, anyways. But the point of this is to have her dressed, not go over the finer details of fashion. ] You put it on like this—lift your foot—
[ to his surprise, she does without any resistance. Even while taking pains not to touch her more than necessary, it doesn't take long for him to get her into the boxers with her so obliging. He has her sit down on the bed next, kneeling beside her with the socks in hand. ]
And these are socks. You put 'em on before shoes. [ a gesture towards his boots. ] I don't have a spare pair of those for you to wear, but you'll need one if you want to go out. The streets ain't very kind on bare feet.
[ the next several minutes pass like this: Caleb explaining what each piece of clothing is and what it's for, then getting Zarina into it, occasionally directing her to move this way or that. Socks, jeans, then the flannel, after removing his jacket and shifting her hair aside ( another surprise—how is it so soft? she lives in the ocean, doesn't she? ) so it won't get trapped under the collar.
When he's done, she looks... well, still ridiculous. Despite his best efforts at rolling and tucking in and even tying back any extra material, she resembles nothing so much as a rumpled store mannequin. But at least she's decent. Other than the ill-fitting clothes, the most attention-grabbing thing about her now is the trust radiating from her eyes. Like he could say anything and she'd believe it without question. He's got no intentions of tricking her, but if she'd met someone else—
Caleb frowns. Will she be fine out there by herself? He finishes buttoning the shirt up all the way and takes a step back, regarding her. ]
There. I'll go get things more your size in the mornin'.
no subject
underwear before pants before socks before shoes. there are so many clothes to put on in order compared to the nothing she's used to when she swims in the sea, zarina thinks to herself briefly as she wiggles her toes while taking in the warmth of the attire she's placed in. humans must hate revealing themselves to the world — she calls it being natural in her mind because no one needs clothes in the seven seas — for whatever reason.
all her thoughts occur as she listens to caleb explain every detail of the clothing he gives her, and while being unable to help herself on the bed with the lightest bounces with her hands. whatever she's sitting on — a human's bed? — is so much softer than the ceramic tub she wakes up from, or the underwater caves she finds herself sleeping in once she knows it's safe to rest.
a wide smile appears on zarina's face once caleb finishes his explanation, only for it to change into her brows furrowing as she wonders — how can she repay him...? caleb not only saves her unconscious body from a storming beach, but he is going to get her more clothes tomorrow. a gift from someone kind, she thinks.
memories return of her sailors she observes from far away, how they extend their hands and shake with a smile. they seemed to be in agreement with something, smiling in the end because they're surely friends.. that's when her smile returns as she leans in and takes caleb's hand. a firm grip is given before she lets it shake up and down several times — an overexaggaerated handshake that zarina believes is perfectly fine despite it lasting longer than a normal handshake — before finally letting go.
thank you, she wordlessly tells him.
what follows, however, is more curiosity: the bed is softer and there's something beneath it. zarina digs her heels against the bed expecting it to stop somewhere, but it's soft compared to the cold stone she sleeps on under the sea or the ceramic tub of the bathroom. toes push her up ever so slightly before she lets herself bounce down.
and again, and again, and again; zarina finds herself bouncing on the bed. pure entertainment for someone who's never been on land before. ]
no subject
You're welcome. Least I could do.
[ he's stuck with her for the time being, after all. Might as well try to make things as normal as he can, even if she isn't. An uneasy feeling still settles in the pit of his stomach when he imagines her heading out all by her lonesome, but he puts it down to the weight of a strange day and stranger revelations. Once he's gotten some food in him and a good few hours of shut-eye, he'll be able to figure out a better plan.
And it's then that the bed starts squeaking something awful as Zarina starts bouncing up and down on it like a kid. He puts his hands on her shoulders to keep her still, darting a glance at the wall the bed rests against. ]
Whoa, settle down. That's not—
[ a THUD interrupts. This time, Caleb glares at the wall—which might as well not even be there with how loud the voice that comes through is. "Keep it down in there, asshole! Some of us are trying to fucking sleep!" it slurs out, to which he immediately hurls back: ]
Mind your bloody business!
[ his answer is another series of thuds and some more yelling that gets unintelligible and muffled, as if whoever it's from just buried themselves beneath a pillow. He ignores it, teeth grit and grip on Zarina tightening. Soon, everything goes quiet again. He lets go of her along with a long breath, calming himself, then sits down next to her. ]
Right. Beds are mostly for sleepin', not playin' around on. [ with a pat to one of the bed's lumpy pillows: ] You lay your head down here, shut your eyes, and—
[ he stops and looks at her, frown returned. ]
You do sleep, don't you.
[ if she doesn't, it's a much bigger problem than her not knowing what to do with a bed. Sure, she might decide to leave tomorrow, soon as she has clothes of her own—but he'll still need to keep an eye on her till then. She can probably find some way to get up to mischief even within the confines of this small room, and he doesn't relish the thought of waking up to it. ]
no subject
silence takes over until caleb explains the use of beds again. such soft surfaces don't exist beyond the fur of seals, but they're living creatures that live in shoals like fish and whales. they require air, just like human beings do. they require freedom to swim wherever they want.
freedom... it's what zarina would call being on land despite the painful arrival she goes through. despite the stories shared beneath the ocean surface, she has to know what the rest of the world offers. there has to be more. like the importance of clothes, what a bed is, what the weird box close by is — she has yet to touch it — only shows how little she knows of the human world.
it's the reason why she nods at caleb's question while getting on her knees. one hand moves as she presses her hand against the pillow — how soft — before raising it up again. brows raise as she sees it form back. zarina does it again. twice.
long, dark hair still damp from being in the tub for so long, zarina moves to rest her head against the pillow. legs and arms stretching until she lays down proper, she treats it as though she were laying down against the seabed — she stares straight towards the ceiling at first, then caleb, and then turns until her stomach rests against the bed. humans get to have these everytime they need to rest? does this mean she can come back every night without issue and sleep on a bed? because they're so much more comfortable than sleek rock formations and sand already —
zarina's thought process is disrupted once her hunger decides to make itself known with a growl; a hand moves over it, realizing she hasn't eaten for... how long again? it's why she sits up and looks towards caleb with a questioning look.
Where can I hunt for food here? she wants to say, but her voice refuses to return for tonight. ]
no subject
He's about to ask when she—no, her stomach—makes a noise. The universal sign of hunger. And then his own rumbles as if in response. Caleb gives a short laugh and shakes his head. ]
Reckon it's hungry work gettin' used to a whole new world. [ for both of them—but her especially, tossed around by that storm after swimming for who knows how many hours. He takes out his phone—the battered casing and cracked screen fitting in perfectly with his scarred hands—and unlocks it with a long, quickly entered string of numbers. ] All right, let's see what this town's got to offer.
[ yet when he pulls up Google, he pauses. What do mermaids eat anyways? Fish? That's not an option this late at night. Maybe if they were in a bigger town, but this one isn't much more than a dot on the map. The kind of place that goes dark as soon as the sun sets, no chain restaurants or supermarkets still spilling light out onto the deserted streets. There's just the one mom-and-pop grocery store/pharmacy he got the first-aid supplies from, and—
Caleb stands and walks to the desk. After a minute's rummaging, he turns away, empty-handed, and goes back to the bed. He finds what he's looking for in the nightstand beside it: an ad for the pizzeria ( PizzaWhat! ) he remembers passing this afternoon on his way here, tucked underneath the obligatory Bible. Still open for another 30 minutes, assuming the hours listed are current. He could drive over there himself, but leaving Zarina alone isn't something he wants to do now that she's awake and wondering.
He lays the ad down near her for her to look over while he dials the pizzeria's number. A weary voice answers, and he gives his order quickly. There's a pause before it's read back to him. So that's a small with olives and double anchovies, and three bottled waters, but... you want the anchovies separate? ]
Yeah. [ Sir, I don't think I'm allowed to do that. ] You're tellin' me you ain't the only person still workin' there this close to closin'? [ Um, no—I-I mean, yes, I am, but— ] Then you can. Just bring over the tin, and I'll pay the same as if you opened it and laid 'em all neatly out for me. Hell, I'll even tip you extra. [ That's—I appreciate it, sir, but even if I'm the only one here, there's still rules I have to follow. ] Look—I ain't goin' to call back tomorrow and complain about you to your manager, lad. A—friend's visitin', and she's a little particular about how she likes her pizza. You'd be doin' me a favor.
[ another pause. Okay, the voice says, resigned. It'll be ready in 15 minutes. Can I get your address?
Caleb gives the address of the motel with his room number, then hangs up and slips the phone back in his pocket. ]
It'll be here soon. [ he glances at her. ] Ever had human food before?
(no subject)