Merfolk

ANNOUNCEMENT: Here's another inconsistently late chapter for you guys, apologies for the delay, no matter how short, I'll keep trying to achieve the main goal I aimed at, and that's updating more frequently, even if it's super later. But apologies nonetheless. ♥

Meeting mermaids..... Or sirens.... Or water bearers. But I can't focus on just that... My mind is ricocheting off my skull repeatedly, taking me from dark corner to darker corner...

Carlisle...

Carlisle...

I'm looking down at short, chubby legs, stubby toes, pattering around in what I can faintly feel is excitement through gaping halls. I have absolutely no idea how this scene floated up out of nowhere, I can't even control what's happening.

This body's vision- which I'm inclined to believe is a baby's- is very limited, only seeing a few things at a time, registering them one by one.

A hallway, tall, sweeping walls, chandeliers, doorways and passageways... A voice.

It's impossible to force this new body into focusing on the voice alone, but the voice isn't faint. It carries such a light, playful air, but it stays adamant, as if making sure I can hear it always.

The voice is obviously feminine, the laugh is so contagious that it refuels my excitement and propels my speedy little appendages further down to nowhere. This hall doesn't seem to end, and neither does the joy inside of me.

"Carlisle... Carlisle!"

Just when I think I'm far away enough from the disembodied voice I'm caught under the armpits and lifted up swiftly but ever so soflty, surrounded by that infectious giggle. I can't appreciate the moment, however precious, because just as I was turned around to view my playful pursuer, my mind reels into itself again, forcefully withdrawing me into darkness.

"Carlisle... Carlisle."

This time the name is said with a more gentle care, a more usual, everyday kind of holler. This one doesn't make me feel anything at all, except to answer.

But of course I'm not in control.

This voice is male, it's very baritone and firm. But it holds a layer of kindness, a kind of gate that opens to only love. This voice instills authority in its wake and makes my body travel with stillness and attention in the most gentle way possible.

This is the voice of someone who can wield it like a weapon, but also like a flower.

Unfortunately I can't look down at my own body this time to see anything that sparks recognition. This time I'm only staring straight into a storm, a downfall of wet, dreary misery ahead.

The voice seems to be coming from behind, trying to get me to stop in my stride. It succeeded in that, but not in getting me to turn around to face it.

My hands, which are notably much bigger than before, are clenched shut, trembling even at the thought of stopping whatever I was doing. I'm determined to press on no matter what, but not so quickly.

The voice carries a presence, and I feel that presence maneuver closer to me. There's a firm pat to my shoulder, followed by a squeeze. The voice's fingers dig lovingly into my skin, shaking the discomfort out of me.

The storm brings about a blinding, electric flash and the scene jumps once more.

***********************************************

"...lisle.... Wake up.... Carlisle!"

My brain nags, and my vision swims uncomfortably. It feels like I've heard that name one too many times by now.

I try to sit up and I'm welcomed with more swimming nags, my body is swinging slightly, and it takes me a second to register that I'm lying on some kind of hammock.

My whole body, plus the hammock, is surrounded by the familiar oxygen mist from earlier. I'm no longer surrounded by open blue, but by closed, circular, curved walls that span around a door some fifteen feet away and numerous windows as small as my head.

The entire high ceiling glows brilliantly with unseen, luminescent light, coating the entire room in clear white. Similar hammocks line along the walls round, with the same pattern going on above them three times.

Thankfully, my hammock was one of the ones closest to the ground, and the surrounding mist meant my body wasn't floating away from the bed, it was like I was on any other ordinary bed on land.

"You're finally awake!" A voice went shrill beside me.

The same voice that had addressed me about- judging by the lack of traveling sunrays- a few hours ago. My head reeled back momentarily from the shockingly loud impact of the merman's voice.

"Cilille!" Came a very scolding tone from just beside the loud, scaled sea creature.

He had a slightly darker tint to his blue skin, which still shone nonetheless, a very distinguished, worn face that still somehow looked equally beautiful and ethereal as the younger one's. His tail seemed to grow some extra, wispy-thin kind of tendrils, floating on their own accord. His gait also seemed more rigid and powerful, not particularly easily succumbing to the currents, unlike his younger companion.

"What happened to suppressing your underwater vocals? For the thousandth time, it only sounds like unbearable, high-pitched horror on land and untrained ears!!!" He kept scolding as his younger kind kept shrinking under the weight of his words.

"Sorry, I'm sorry!" Cried the younger one, Cilille, I now assumed. "But Carlisle isn't strange to our Siren voices, he quite understands them."

I wasn't sure how to respond to either of their topics. I did understand what Cilille had said, but it was at such a loud, high pitch that it pushed my head back. It was like my head was jammed into the sirens of an ambulance.

"Not quite, young fishling." The older one chided.

"What does than mean, Umerrang?"

"Young Carlisle here, as at present, does not recall about anything." He announced. "Maybe a feeble amount, but not much at all."

Cilille had no intention of hiding his shock, he only stared open-gilled at my direction, his head almost invading the mist around me.

I wanted to reply, to at least confirm that it was true, that I had lost my memory as far as I could tell. But at the same time I couldn't force out the words. My mind soon dimmed dark again.