A Land Of Sea

The Wrath and the Tears of Gods

George stared down at the empty spot on his tail, where 3 clustered scales were entirely missing just above his fluke. He didn't know what to say anymore, and although Quackity consoling him was helpful, he couldn't help but sob quietly.

"Look man, I get it, they checked out mine too- it's hard to find good scales though so maybe they won't even like what they see!" He said, attempting to reassure him.

"As far as I know, they haven't actually..yaknow, killed anyone..." Quackity continued, somewhat hesitantly. George thought back to earlier, still come what dumbfounded.

Originally he wasn't planning to give in, but something in Dream's voice made him reconsider...it felt enthralling, familiar, not controlling like a siren but sweet, like honey. It was that sense of familiarity that caused him to think, and reluctantly, he agreed. He had shut his eyes and just ripped them off.

The feeling was familiar- it wasn't uncommon to lose scales, especially within their species, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. And on top of that, a merfolk's scales were larger than most fish, so it took far longer than it might for another species to grow them back.

Handing them over he made sure to spit out a 'go to hell!' in English, and Dream had grimaced.

Only now, a few hours later, that grimace turned into a smile. For what reason, well, that's what George feared.

"Good news. Turns out nobody wants you."

George frowned slightly, unsure of whether that was a compliment or not. He settled on no, but waited for the man to speak again. What did he mean by good news?

"Your scales don't carry enough magic for those looking to use them as ingredients." He elaborated, and George was struck by a wave of hurt, not for himself, but for all the merfolk who had been hunted for this very reason. Was that why they were so sought after? For their magic? It wasn't anything crazy, but they did have a connection to the moon that gave certain small abilities like-

"Of course that's a shame, but personally I've never liked the trade of scales, you know. I know how personal they are to you guys, so it just feels inhuman." He shrugged, and George peered at him curiously. That was...a change of heart, especially to before.

As if putting on a darker persona once again, he added on. "Don't worry, I'm sure we'll find another use for you." His words were harsher now, and George stiffened. The man left again, and George's eyes followed him all the way out.

Just as he was about to relax, his ears picked up words at the top of the steps for the second time that day. It was Dream and that man from before, who he still didn't know the name of.

"-saying is maybe they don't...scales for ingredients but...you were right about one...most sought after color...could always..." Whatever the man was saying was cut off harshly by Dream, and George flinched at the sudden noise. "We are NOT doing that!" Heavy footsteps receded and George sank back into the tank carefully to mull over what he'd heard.

Dream seemed to know a lot about merfolk, and if that was the case he should know of their enhanced hearing. Clearly he didn't care what they did or didn't hear, so what was that all about?

The question danced on his mind for a while as the rocking of the ship lulled him slowly to sleep, water sloshing around every now and then spilling a little from the tanks in the room.

It was rare now for him to have such peace, and he was grateful for the moment.

-----

George was woken by shouting. Familiar shouting, but in a different way. Then it dawned on him, his whole core shaking.

The boat rocked, water spilling everywhere, and then a crash of thunder came. George could hear the humans above doing everything they could to steady the ship, to put away the loose things before they could be thrown overboard, just before he stuck his hands over his ears as tightly as he could.

Everything but the storm was shut out, and bright white flashed through the few small windows nearby. The noise only grew, and he sank as far as he could to the floor, but to no avail. He couldn't hide away in a cave, or just swim down to the deepest depths of a trench to wait it out. He couldn't follow his pod to new waters, where the roar of rain above wouldn't run on endlessly. He couldn't escape the dance of bolt and thunder as they tiptoed around each other, George forced to watch as a silent spectator.

It rose, louder and louder and louder, forever raging. It was stuck in his mind, determined to haunt him, to take over the territory of his body, his heart, his thoughts...

And then it all came crashing back, ten times harder than any wave against shore.

But it was better.

The shouting was louder, the storm quieter, and someone's voice rang out from a few feet away.

"George, George! It's almost over!"

It brought him back to reality, and instead of the terror he was experiencing just a few minutes ago, it was new. The salt was stronger, reminding him more of his home, the air was peaceful once more, as the noise quieted.

George looked over, taking in his surroundings again. Hannah was nearly just as frightened as him, but had calmed down a bit ago. Foolish had somehow managed to sleep through the entirety of the situation, as if he were a god or something.

Quackity had been the one to break him out of his nightmare.

For the next several hours the only thing he could focus on was the violence of it, the wrath of the Gods, how much the stories underestimated it.

At one point someone had been about to come down but he heard a familiar voice once again:

"What have I...going down...leave them...after...can't you hear him!...ry capta..."

It was soon forgotten, and he shook, in what little sleep he could get over the next week.

-----

Word Count: 1047
Date: 08/05/21

I swear to God my writing gets shittier the further into this story I go- idk, hopefully the plot coming up makes up for it. Were y'all expecting Dream to comfort George hehe 😏 too bad that ain't coming yet

Anyway have a nice day y'all :D