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moonsheenSo, anyone who's been in nearest proximity after a more recent viewing of The Little Mermaid or a replaying of Kingdom Hearts has probably already heard the babbling this comes from. Multiple times. Apologies to all parties involved for brainbreakage. I finally took an excuse to write it.
The kelp bed she’d enchanted was well equipped to deal with intruders, and when she’d heard the thrashing from below she’d fully expected to find a shark or a whale, perhaps. Instead, much to her surprise she found a merman—not even fully grown one—struggling against the bonds that had set themselves against him like sea snakes, harder than stone and more merciless than a northern current. A great number of silvery scales had come off in the merman’s efforts, and already he was bleeding from some wound or another. She couldn’t help but watch for a moment (oh, but he was a feisty one) before she went about plunging from the higher stones of the cavern to have a word. Sharks prowled these tides for just a whiff of blood. As much as she could have used a few extra teeth for a spell or two, she wasn’t interested in entertaining them quite at the moment.
“Hello,” she said, sleekly circling the pleasant little garden that held him captive. She bid it to still, and it did. The merman showed no such niceties, glaring furiously the moment he saw what she had done.
“Who are you.” He snarled, attempting a lunge. “Release me.”
“You’re bubbling,” she noted. She put her hand on her hip. “No.”
The enraged shout nearly shook the cavern walls.
“Not with show of manners like that, anyway. Such a brute, barging in on a poor, unarmed maiden--” The unarmed part was a bit of a lie. She raised them, all ten of them, delicately. “I think you should be telling me who you are to think you can just come tumbling through and expecting me to roll out the red tide for you--”
The young merman simply showed teeth. “You should know who I am.”
“Ah. Royalty, then.”
His confused expression was worth a few family heirlooms.
She went on: “You don’t exactly make it difficult to figure out, dear. ‘You should know who I am’—turn your nose up a little more. I don’t think I quite get the picture. You’re either very well off or very stupid. Wouldn’t be so candid about that either—you’re awfully far from your warm waters. Not everyone’s going to be as sweet as me about things.” She crawled closer. Pushing away the weed surrounding source of the bleeding, she gave an impressed dolphin’s whistle at the back of her throat. “Especially with a nasty…spear wound isn’t it? like that.”
If he was not a full-grown merman he was surely on his way to becoming one. The width of his tail was thick near the abdomen and well muscled. He gave a powerful swipe at the wandering hand; she pulled back with a wide eyed expression. “Temper temper.” Her bottom lip quivered. “You’re hurt! You poor thing! And oh, I could strangle you in less than a second—but we don’t need to mention things like that—I’m concerned for you, my prince. Shall I send someone to fetch your father?”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort, you filthy hag!”
“….curious,” she murmured, and bowed. “…if…that is what my prince desires. I will surely oblige. And more. Come now, come now. I will forgive your rudeness.” She crooked her fingers and pushed upwards. At her beckoning, the kelp helpfully wound tighter around him and detached from the floor. She grabbed him by a loop of it with one of her trailing arms and pulled the package she’d made of him behind her. He sounded like he would have been quite talkative on the swim back—except the seaweed that had accidentally covered that…colorful tongue of his had made it difficult.
“So tell me your story, my dear.”
“I don’t see why I should!”
The shell she pulled out was thin and sharp. It would do the job very well. A little bit of whale entrails through the end and—“It’ll pass the time, my dear. Believe me you’ll want that.” The stone teeth of the main cavern made for awkward maneuvering for anything of great bulk—but she was quite cartilaginous and slim in those days. She slipped between them easily, came to rest before him. A number of arms wrapped around the jagged rock as she crouched with the needle, the thread, and a tendril-full of the scales he had so willingly shed in the fit he’d pitched upon his arrival. The wound had cut past the blubber. She pressed the ruined flesh together and set to work. To his credit, he only snarled quietly.
“Why don’t you start by telling me what you have against witches.”
“Witches,” he gritted out. “Are the foulest! Most disgusting! Most repulsive things to ever swim this ocean! I cannot abide by them—my father has one in his employ and it is on that bag of bilgewater’s word that I am now here--”
“A fortune-teller then.”
“Yes,” said the prince, hotly. “But that doesn’t matter. She set my father against me.”
“…she probably foretold his death.”
The prince stared at her. “What.”
“Well, if there’s anything that stirs up an old god—and I imagine Poseidon-dear is really no exception in this—it’s fear of the son’s overthrow. Tell me about this palace fortune-teller…”
“Tell me what you’re talking about first.”
“Did no one inform you? Oh, that’s unprofessional.” she clicked disapprovingly. “Your future is probably to the rule the seas yourself. Daddy didn’t take kindly to that, so now daddy wants to kill you to ensure his own long. healthy. rule. Admittedly doing it by spear is a little uncreative—but it’s easy to patch up, I will tell you. I promise, my prince there will not even be a scar.”
“You speak as much garbage as that--”
She covered his mouth with an arm, absently stroking his cheek with the soft tip of it, as one might calm a restless eel. “Manners, dear. I’m only guessing the most obvious course of events. If you want a real reading I could do that for my normal fee but I don’t---ah.” She pulled her arm back with a squawk. The needle in her hand skirted. He shouted—she paid no notice to that. “Ah. You bit me!”
“Keep your limbs to yourself, witch.”
“Keep your mouth to yourself.” She jerked back and ran her injured appendage through her fingers, soothing it back into shape. “This witch is looking out for your best interests. A king will not do so much for you, at present. What makes you think anyone else will? I would not. be. so. difficult. my. sweet. prince.”
The water had become murky with blackness drifting about them. She coughed discreetly and waved it away with her injured arm. The merman settled with an expression that couldn’t be called anything other than sulky, his eyes cast towards the cave floor. “Mm,” he said; which was as much of an apology as she imagined she was going to get.
“Forgiven,” she murmured, and brushed her hair out of her eyes as she settled in to get back to work.
“He couldn’t be bothered to do it himself,” said the prince, gruffly. “Had to call the guard. Chased me out.”
“You made it very far.”
“...wasn’t so interested in death, yet.” He looked at her. “Tell me, witch. Why are you doing this?”
She had to smile at that. Ah, poor boy. He really hadn’t a clue. They were getting somewhere. She finished sewing up the torn blubber, and began to lift the loose scales from the curl of another arm, setting them down in their proper place. “Your fortune teller,” she said softly, “Her name is Scylla, yes?”
“Yes.”
“-then let’s just say I understand your position very well, my prince.” He said nothing. Her smile turned toothy. “And I believe there’s something to be done about it.”
His brow furrowed. He shifted restlessly; she lifted the needle and allowed this, and when he stilled sewed down three more scales. “And what is that.”
“Ever heard of a self-fulfilled prophecy?”
The prince’s eyes widened immediately. He was brighter than he looked, evidently. “You’re suggesting I challenge my father?”
“Yes.”
“A god.”
“Yes.”
“For his throne. When he has the entire ocean at his fingertips--”
She leaned over him with glittering eyes. “Well when you put it that way…yes.”
He sighed. “You’re mad.”
She looped in another scale and buffed her fingernails importantly. “…well, yes. Some might say that. Some would also say I have…” she walked her hand up his arm. “…talents, too. Let it be said, a girl who strikes it out on her own has means of taking care of herself. And choice others.” She took his chin. “You see?”
He twisted his head away. He growled, “What’s your price.”
“Prices! Prices! What kind of girl do you think I am! –we don’t discuss that on the onset. First do say, do tell--” She launched herself up in a flurry of fluid, whirling limbs, curling more thoroughly amongst the cavern spikes and folding her arms, the needle her teeth. “Is your interest in me greater than your confessed disinterest in death?”
His eyes trailed over her. “Mm.” It was a morose sort of consent.
“Oh, I thought so!” she crowed happily, cracking a few tips off of the spikes in her glee. “You won’t regret it, my prince! I promise you! I am at your service! And I will show you my finest. Where to begin, where to begin—ah ah yes, yes I’ll finish this work here—hold still--”
She was stayed at the hand on her narrow shoulder, and eyed it warily. Arms already shivered darkly to answer it, if he dared to try anything upon her person. The contact was loose though, little more a warning; if that. “Witch,” he said, and then, in a nicer tone that clearly cost him a lot to employ but was acceptable nonetheless. “Your name.”
“Ursula,” said she, with a throaty laugh and a playful flick at his chest. She liked this catch, she decided. She might like to keep him, too. “No need to give me yours, dear. I know who you are, Prince Triton. I know exactly who you are.”
The kelp bed she’d enchanted was well equipped to deal with intruders, and when she’d heard the thrashing from below she’d fully expected to find a shark or a whale, perhaps. Instead, much to her surprise she found a merman—not even fully grown one—struggling against the bonds that had set themselves against him like sea snakes, harder than stone and more merciless than a northern current. A great number of silvery scales had come off in the merman’s efforts, and already he was bleeding from some wound or another. She couldn’t help but watch for a moment (oh, but he was a feisty one) before she went about plunging from the higher stones of the cavern to have a word. Sharks prowled these tides for just a whiff of blood. As much as she could have used a few extra teeth for a spell or two, she wasn’t interested in entertaining them quite at the moment.
“Hello,” she said, sleekly circling the pleasant little garden that held him captive. She bid it to still, and it did. The merman showed no such niceties, glaring furiously the moment he saw what she had done.
“Who are you.” He snarled, attempting a lunge. “Release me.”
“You’re bubbling,” she noted. She put her hand on her hip. “No.”
The enraged shout nearly shook the cavern walls.
“Not with show of manners like that, anyway. Such a brute, barging in on a poor, unarmed maiden--” The unarmed part was a bit of a lie. She raised them, all ten of them, delicately. “I think you should be telling me who you are to think you can just come tumbling through and expecting me to roll out the red tide for you--”
The young merman simply showed teeth. “You should know who I am.”
“Ah. Royalty, then.”
His confused expression was worth a few family heirlooms.
She went on: “You don’t exactly make it difficult to figure out, dear. ‘You should know who I am’—turn your nose up a little more. I don’t think I quite get the picture. You’re either very well off or very stupid. Wouldn’t be so candid about that either—you’re awfully far from your warm waters. Not everyone’s going to be as sweet as me about things.” She crawled closer. Pushing away the weed surrounding source of the bleeding, she gave an impressed dolphin’s whistle at the back of her throat. “Especially with a nasty…spear wound isn’t it? like that.”
If he was not a full-grown merman he was surely on his way to becoming one. The width of his tail was thick near the abdomen and well muscled. He gave a powerful swipe at the wandering hand; she pulled back with a wide eyed expression. “Temper temper.” Her bottom lip quivered. “You’re hurt! You poor thing! And oh, I could strangle you in less than a second—but we don’t need to mention things like that—I’m concerned for you, my prince. Shall I send someone to fetch your father?”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort, you filthy hag!”
“….curious,” she murmured, and bowed. “…if…that is what my prince desires. I will surely oblige. And more. Come now, come now. I will forgive your rudeness.” She crooked her fingers and pushed upwards. At her beckoning, the kelp helpfully wound tighter around him and detached from the floor. She grabbed him by a loop of it with one of her trailing arms and pulled the package she’d made of him behind her. He sounded like he would have been quite talkative on the swim back—except the seaweed that had accidentally covered that…colorful tongue of his had made it difficult.
“So tell me your story, my dear.”
“I don’t see why I should!”
The shell she pulled out was thin and sharp. It would do the job very well. A little bit of whale entrails through the end and—“It’ll pass the time, my dear. Believe me you’ll want that.” The stone teeth of the main cavern made for awkward maneuvering for anything of great bulk—but she was quite cartilaginous and slim in those days. She slipped between them easily, came to rest before him. A number of arms wrapped around the jagged rock as she crouched with the needle, the thread, and a tendril-full of the scales he had so willingly shed in the fit he’d pitched upon his arrival. The wound had cut past the blubber. She pressed the ruined flesh together and set to work. To his credit, he only snarled quietly.
“Why don’t you start by telling me what you have against witches.”
“Witches,” he gritted out. “Are the foulest! Most disgusting! Most repulsive things to ever swim this ocean! I cannot abide by them—my father has one in his employ and it is on that bag of bilgewater’s word that I am now here--”
“A fortune-teller then.”
“Yes,” said the prince, hotly. “But that doesn’t matter. She set my father against me.”
“…she probably foretold his death.”
The prince stared at her. “What.”
“Well, if there’s anything that stirs up an old god—and I imagine Poseidon-dear is really no exception in this—it’s fear of the son’s overthrow. Tell me about this palace fortune-teller…”
“Tell me what you’re talking about first.”
“Did no one inform you? Oh, that’s unprofessional.” she clicked disapprovingly. “Your future is probably to the rule the seas yourself. Daddy didn’t take kindly to that, so now daddy wants to kill you to ensure his own long. healthy. rule. Admittedly doing it by spear is a little uncreative—but it’s easy to patch up, I will tell you. I promise, my prince there will not even be a scar.”
“You speak as much garbage as that--”
She covered his mouth with an arm, absently stroking his cheek with the soft tip of it, as one might calm a restless eel. “Manners, dear. I’m only guessing the most obvious course of events. If you want a real reading I could do that for my normal fee but I don’t---ah.” She pulled her arm back with a squawk. The needle in her hand skirted. He shouted—she paid no notice to that. “Ah. You bit me!”
“Keep your limbs to yourself, witch.”
“Keep your mouth to yourself.” She jerked back and ran her injured appendage through her fingers, soothing it back into shape. “This witch is looking out for your best interests. A king will not do so much for you, at present. What makes you think anyone else will? I would not. be. so. difficult. my. sweet. prince.”
The water had become murky with blackness drifting about them. She coughed discreetly and waved it away with her injured arm. The merman settled with an expression that couldn’t be called anything other than sulky, his eyes cast towards the cave floor. “Mm,” he said; which was as much of an apology as she imagined she was going to get.
“Forgiven,” she murmured, and brushed her hair out of her eyes as she settled in to get back to work.
“He couldn’t be bothered to do it himself,” said the prince, gruffly. “Had to call the guard. Chased me out.”
“You made it very far.”
“...wasn’t so interested in death, yet.” He looked at her. “Tell me, witch. Why are you doing this?”
She had to smile at that. Ah, poor boy. He really hadn’t a clue. They were getting somewhere. She finished sewing up the torn blubber, and began to lift the loose scales from the curl of another arm, setting them down in their proper place. “Your fortune teller,” she said softly, “Her name is Scylla, yes?”
“Yes.”
“-then let’s just say I understand your position very well, my prince.” He said nothing. Her smile turned toothy. “And I believe there’s something to be done about it.”
His brow furrowed. He shifted restlessly; she lifted the needle and allowed this, and when he stilled sewed down three more scales. “And what is that.”
“Ever heard of a self-fulfilled prophecy?”
The prince’s eyes widened immediately. He was brighter than he looked, evidently. “You’re suggesting I challenge my father?”
“Yes.”
“A god.”
“Yes.”
“For his throne. When he has the entire ocean at his fingertips--”
She leaned over him with glittering eyes. “Well when you put it that way…yes.”
He sighed. “You’re mad.”
She looped in another scale and buffed her fingernails importantly. “…well, yes. Some might say that. Some would also say I have…” she walked her hand up his arm. “…talents, too. Let it be said, a girl who strikes it out on her own has means of taking care of herself. And choice others.” She took his chin. “You see?”
He twisted his head away. He growled, “What’s your price.”
“Prices! Prices! What kind of girl do you think I am! –we don’t discuss that on the onset. First do say, do tell--” She launched herself up in a flurry of fluid, whirling limbs, curling more thoroughly amongst the cavern spikes and folding her arms, the needle her teeth. “Is your interest in me greater than your confessed disinterest in death?”
His eyes trailed over her. “Mm.” It was a morose sort of consent.
“Oh, I thought so!” she crowed happily, cracking a few tips off of the spikes in her glee. “You won’t regret it, my prince! I promise you! I am at your service! And I will show you my finest. Where to begin, where to begin—ah ah yes, yes I’ll finish this work here—hold still--”
She was stayed at the hand on her narrow shoulder, and eyed it warily. Arms already shivered darkly to answer it, if he dared to try anything upon her person. The contact was loose though, little more a warning; if that. “Witch,” he said, and then, in a nicer tone that clearly cost him a lot to employ but was acceptable nonetheless. “Your name.”
“Ursula,” said she, with a throaty laugh and a playful flick at his chest. She liked this catch, she decided. She might like to keep him, too. “No need to give me yours, dear. I know who you are, Prince Triton. I know exactly who you are.”
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(no subject)
Date: 2004-12-02 03:33 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-12-02 03:47 pm (UTC)And ahaha o.o I want to rewatch this movie now. It never occured to me, but Triton's father being your predictable greek God of the Ocean is just a stitch short of UTTERLY AWESOME.
And ah, Triton, he's oddly cute in his bitchiness ♥
(no subject)
Date: 2005-01-28 09:29 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-01-28 09:05 pm (UTC)