A merman's tear (dreamnotfound)

Chapter Four

George's first thought as he wakes up is 'why the fuck am I swaying?'. He always found a cave or something secure to sleep in and never let himself be carried by the waves, so why the hell was there a steady, slow, but constant swaying. 

George's second thought is 'oh shit, oh no' as memories of before crash into him like a tidal wave. 

Him meeting dolphins, the ship, him saving Niki, him getting caught, the mysterious faceless man, and him passing out all rush through his brain, making him nauseous. 

"Don't panic George." he whispers to himself, deciding now would be a good time to check his surroundings. His eyes crack open slowly, and he sees that he's in what looks to be a clear box. It's the same length as him, but the fins of his tail tip over the side a little bit. The water is deep enough for him to be fully submerged, but it's still not enough. He can't even turn around in this thing.

With a small sigh of relief, he realizes there's no top on it, so he doesn't just have to lay there, but that relief is just as rapidly replaced by the sheer terror of his situation. 

He looks around, elbows propped up slightly to give him more of a chance to see, but not enough to take his head completely out of the water. 

He's in what seems to be a small room, made of wood. There's a large table across from him, and some windows that have pale cream blinds on them. Warm sunlight filters through said blinds, making the room glow a soft pale orange. A large, darker wooden door was across the room, and thankfully, George noticed that it was closed.

The room reminded him of all the shipwrecks he'd explored. It was a favourite pastime of his, a way to escape his life and to see what the human world was like. 

Although, it looked quite different when it wasn't sunk. The blinds weren't shredded, the windows weren't broken, the wood wasn't dark and dead looking, and there was a rather significant lack of barnacles and clams all over it. To George, it almost felt homey.

Almost homey, if it wasn't owned by bloody humans, those of which had kidnapped him.

George turns his head to the side slightly, and his fear is doubled instantly. Somehow, he'd failed to notice a man sitting on a chair a few meters away from him. 

George backed up, but forgot he was in a glass box, and smacked his elbow behind him. He hissed in pain, sitting up and bringing his elbow to his other hand, holding it like it was precious.

The man must have heard him, for his head snapped up and stared at him.

George stared right back.

This human looked weird. His clothes were weird, he wore a dark green (?) coat over a white blouse, dark pants paired with big boots. But that wasn't the part he thought was weird. What he did think was odd, was the mask that covered most of the man's face.

It was porcelain white, with a smiley face painted (or carved? he couldn't tell from where he sat) on it. It reached just above his mouth, so he could still see his smile, but the rest of the man's features were covered by it. 

Dark blonde fluffy hair poked out from behind it, somewhat curly, and obviously sunkissed.

He even had dark black earrings, one of the ears having an extra small hoop on them. 

To George, the man looked so...different, but that was to be expected, considering they came from completely different worlds.

The man, whatever his name was, sat up. He scratched his chin awkwardly, his black leather fingerless cloves glinting in the sun, and smiled a lopsided smile.