Page 31 of Whispers of the Deep

He drew closer, only flinching slightly when he noticed she’d brought the box with her. And this time, it had opened even more. The cursed thing had tiny arms that it waved in the air at him.

Not a single god in the sea would make such a being. Was it a child? Was it her child? Had she created some abomination out of the junk at the bottom of the sea floor?

She moved a hand to her chest, a gesture he recognized from the first time that he’d brought her to this cave. And then she said a word and held her hand out toward him.

He had no idea what that meant.

Then the achromo did it again. She tapped a finger to her chest, said the word, and then tapped the box. This time she said a different word and then gestured for him to say something.

“I am one of the People of Water,” he intoned, his voice deepening with reverence. “You are a achromo.”

Those brows of her furrowed, a much more familiar expression on her face. Again, she repeated the same words. Two different ones. One for herself, and one for the box.

Were these... names?

“Again,” he said, swimming a little closer so he could watch her lips.

And then... Oh, his gills flared in excitement even though he was embarrassed to make such a display for her. Because he heard her name, and it was a word that was similar to another in his language.

Mira. For his people, it meant hope.

“Mira,” he repeated, and watched as a smile stretched across her face.

She was prettier when she did that. When there weren’t signs of anger in her expression, she appeared more kind. More open. Simply... more.

He hated it. And adored it at the same time.

She gestured at him, pointing at his chest mostly, but he had to wonder if she was pointing at the gills that flared out from his neck. Yes, he was presenting himself for her now. He almost preened, knowing that she’d seen how pretty the gills were.

In his mind, for a moment, he thought her reactions to be that of his own kind. One of his people would have noticed the reaction of his body and they would have stroked down the delicate fins of his gills, the wisps that only a mate could touch. He would have let her if she touched him. He’d already stolen her from her people, gifted her treasures just like she’d asked for. The next step was for her to accept him, but that would not happen.

She was a achromo. He was of the People of Water. They could not, and would never, be together. Their kinds were far too different and hated each other far too much.

Sighing, he pressed a hand to his chest. “Arges.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and then she nodded many times. “Arges. Mira.”

“Mira,” he repeated.

It wasn’t much. The rudimentary conversation should have been frustrating, but now he knew her name. Somehow, that made her more of a person to him. She wasn’t just the achromo he had captured to be a means to an end. She was Mira of the achromos. It wasn’t much of a difference, but it still caused some old song to strum in his hearts.

“You should eat,” he said quietly, flicking his tail as he peered around her. The fish he’d brought her was gone, and she’d made another strange contraption behind her that appeared to be a bucket with flattened metal over the top. He couldn’t guess what that was. “You have finished your meal, I see.”

He sank back into the water, ignoring her frustrated sound of disapproval. Perhaps she wanted to speak with him. To try to have more of a conversation than just names. But first he would see her fed, and then he would return.

It took very little time to track down a sizable fish. The cod that swam by him was not an impressive catch for one of his people, but it was large enough to sustain her for a while yet. Arges didn’t know what achromos ate, but he remembered the strange mush that they’d eaten every morning. He couldn’t hazard a guess at what that might be, but he assumed they couldn’t exist on meat alone. He’d need to return to their hunting grounds soon and get her handfuls of kelp, perhaps kombu as well. Edible vegetation in the ocean was hard to come by, but he would discover it for her.

Arges cleaned the fish quickly on his way to the cave, choosing to let the blood and organs soak the waters far from their hiding spot. He did not need to draw unwelcome attention to that place. Just in case he wasn’t there to help her.

By the time he returned, she was pacing again. He wasn’t sure why Mira did that, but she moved from end to end of the cave often.

She turned at the sound of water splashing, her eyes widening in fear for a few moments before she relaxed when she saw him. Again, she chattered. There weren’t even recognizable sounds in her speech, and he feared it would take a very long time for him to understand her.

He swam to the edge of the rock and set the fish down on the ground for her. “My people speak slowly,” he said, catching her gaze so she would know to listen to him. Arges touched his mouth, then brought his hands down low. “Slower words, achromo. Perhaps then I might mimic you.”

This was getting them nowhere. The next time Mira spoke, she did so quietly. It wasn’t what he wanted. He could hardly hear her now.

“No, achromo. I need you to speak slower, not softer.” Growling, he gnashed his sharp teeth in the air in frustration. “This is getting us nowhere. I don’t know what madness has led me to believing that I could learn your language. It would take both of our lifetimes for me to ever understand a word you’re saying.”

---