"If you were the last man on Earth and I was the last woman, I'd date outside my species."
~Female character from sitcom; paraphrased
Story idea inspired by fanart by Wumei; posted on Nanashiness at http://www.cryingclowns.cjb.net
The blouse of tiny seashells woven tightly together by fine strands of seaweed would not stop slipping down her otherwise naked bosom and modesty simply wouldn't allow her to continue wearing it. Unfortunately, Kiry was the most persistent mermaid Relena had ever had the misfortune of knowing.
"But you look stunning in it!" Kiry pleaded, pouting childishly and Relena strongly resisted the even more childish urge to smack the other mermaid. Instead resigning herself to her fate, she pulled the sleeveless, and strapless, top up firmly, only to have it slide down again so that she felt uncomfortable with it halfway down her chest. The aquamarine frills jutting elegantly out from her sunshine blonde hair were her ears and she focused all her being on shutting out the mindless chatter Kiry was torturing her with, her long, shimmering aquamarine tail-and-fins absently stirring the deep water.
The coral bedchambers of the community were, sadly, interlocked and, wouldn't you know it, Kiry's and Relena's were right connected. This led to many late nights and Relena having a headache nearly every morning. If only they were kappas instead of merpeople and she could get away with attempt-to-strangle.
Fortunately for Relena, release came swiftly.
"Humans!" someone screeched in the spiraling hallways and all conversation vanished, dying into petrified silence.
The drill was always the same. The 'look-out' would call out the name of the dreaded mer-hunters and everyone would stay still. It was never followed by the blow of the cockle horn, which would mean that all citizens were to go into their individual rooms and stay there until the danger had passed, so it was no wonder Kiry was opening her mouth-
A deep, resonant sound echoed.
Clamping her hands tightly about her mouth, Kiry streaked through the doorway with a flutter of her maroon tail, vanishing into her room and quickly shutting the coral door.
Humans!, Relena thought. She wasn't afraid. Most people, and creatures, could not fear something unless they were given a reason to fear. Relena couldn't remember the legendary massacre...so she could not fear.
Determined, she hitched the seashell top up and quietly wiggled through her window, swimming with strong strokes of her tail.
A guard saw her and called out a warning, but his own dread prevented him from following the young mermaid, her youth of being only eleven giving her speed and strength.
When she broke the surface, she, disoriented, looked about until a massive shadow began forming before her. Instinctively, she dove, barely missing the front of the wooden ship. Swinging to the side, she stared up through the crystal water as she moved out of the ship's path.
The only person who saw her was a small group of children. A little blonde boy, petite and frail-looking, gaped and tugged at unseen arms, motioning excitedly at Relena. Giggling to herself, she broke the surface and called out, "Hello!" But her voice was reedy and her language like the notes of a flute, and a sudden wind blew the flute-like word away from her.
A girl with bouncy reddish-brown curls brushing her shoulders and large, pretty eyes peered over the rail, taller than the little blue-eyed boy. She gasped in delight and clapped her hands. She seemed friendly.
Relena moved slightly so as to stay with the ship, lifting her fins to wave the ruffles at the two, motioning with a finger at her pursed lips for the two to stay quiet.
And then a third figure joined them, a tall boy her own age with dark brown hair, bangs hanging in front of one eye. His was a quiet, calm face, lightly brown and the intense green eye visible to her seemed sad and lonely. Unable to help herself, she burst out with, "Please don't be sad!" The two others had turned away, talking excitedly to each other, so only the lonely boy heard her flute voice, her song, her words-that-weren't, and her own loneliness.
And he loved her though she dove 'neath the froth and disappeared from sight.