My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
The more I have, for both are infinite."
― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
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Will's father had never been one for prayer or God in general, the bitter drunk tending to find his sort of redemption at the bottom of a bottle. The few things he did religiously though was always carry an iron knife with him on his person. Whenever Will's father stepped onto a boat, he would use that knife to carve a simple symbol into the vessel, whether it be its side or mast. He would then pass the iron knife over the hooks and nets while saying a blessing, the words of a long dead language falling easily off his lips. The boats he set foot on were never threatened by weather, and his hauls were always the most bountiful, whether the catch was in season or not.
Knife, prayer, symbol.
The son of the last true fisherman, these three things were the sum of Will Graham's inheritance after the shell of man who was his father died from life's misery.
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Like the delicate dilution of blood in water, the merman's tail was long and sharper than it looked. The accenting black spines and fins of it like razors made of ruby tinted scales that were harder than most stones found above and under the water's surface. The appendage and merman's clawed fingertips could cut through the hulls of human vessels whether they were made of metal, fiberglass, or wood like a shark's teeth could tear through a guppy, and often did for the merfolk found the flesh of humans quite tasty.
So this merman found it quite odd when he was unable to do just that to a tiny boat that was threatening to fall apart all on its own. The boat rocked from his attacks but for some reason, his fingers and blade of a tail could not get a grip on boat or leave a mark on its creaky hull, like there was an invisible barrier in the shape of a bubble around it.
Swimming around the unexpected yet tantalizingly interesting anomaly, the merman ran his taloned fingertips over the boat's protection, feeling out the ancient magic of it. He had not encountered something like this in a very, very long time, and had thought the knowledge of such things had died out in the world of men after the sea reclaimed Atlantis and the wizard Merlin was sealed in his cave, betrayed by his lover. Studying the boat, the merman considered speaking outright with the owner of the vessel, toying with what to tell the human.
It could be great fun to converse with a human again or at least to attempt to. If this man knew of such magic, he might be worth the effort, the merman deciding on a name for himself for introduction purposes. The merfolk's language didn't translate well into human speak, not that the merman would try to do so. The human language was so basic and vulgar, it was a small wonder the species had managed to accomplish anything noteworthy in the last few centuries.
The concept of chivalry and politics of politeness had always appealed to the merman though, one of the few things that the creature embraced from the human realm with an open mind. If this particular merman had one flaw, it would be an extreme overabundance of curiosity, a trait that had served him well up to this point. The human even had a chance of surviving this encounter. As long as he remained civil, Hannibal would do the same.
Name decided upon, the merman who deemed himself Hannibal for now never got the chance to fully make up his mind on the matter as a net was cast out onto the water, sinking into the sea. Amused by the rudimentary entrapment, Hannibal made no move to avoid it, having every intention of destroying the net just because he could and had done so numerous times before in the past.
Whipping his tail up at the net, it came as a shock when it was caught up in the fibers instead of cutting straight through them. The entanglement only worsened when Hannibal tried to shake the netting from off his being. It clung to him with all the tenacity of barnacles on a ship's ass end, snagging and twisting around his tail and up to his arms like an overly affectionate octopus. Displeased, Hannibal thrashed and struggled to no avail, only realizing belated when he was thoroughly bound that there was magic flowing through this net as well. It was a simple yet effective spell, an almost primitive magic that Hannibal had not noticed until it was too late.
A definite tug on the net signaled that Hannibal was being hauled in as a fresh catch, the merman's renewed struggling not making it easy to do so. When his head broke the water's surface, Hannibal made ready to summon the sea and storm to do his bidding only to find he had no voice to do so with, his throat only making the softest of clicking sounds as he was pulled into a tiny boat that bobbed precariously up and down under his additional weight, deciding if it could handle it.
Frustrated and angered, Hannibal lashed out at the fisherman who had dared to make this grievous insult upon him, the merman flailing his bound tail about. With any luck, he would strike and kill the human with one blow. A spell caster's death tended to end any magic cast so Hannibal could look forward to a well deserved meal if he succeeded.
What the merman was met with was not contact with another body but blinding pain. The extent of which made Hannibal scream silently, his gills ceasing to work as his rarely used lungs expanded to help accommodate him in efforts of breathing. Something had managed to get past the armor of his scarlet and onyx scales to wound him, the merman feeling himself bleed out near the base of his tail on the right side of it.
Forcing himself to grow still and concentrate on his unusual surroundings, Hannibal let his third and second eyelids recede, the addition protection to his eyes unneeded and made useless up here on the surface. He found that he was curled up in one end of the boat while a very frightened looking human clutching a knife inhabited the other. The blade the man held onto like his life depended on it, and it did, was coated in a fresh sheen of blue merman's blood.
Looking down at his tail to access the damage to it, Hannibal was relieved to see that the wound was nothing more than a scratch, hardly life threatening. The reason it hurt so much was not the depth or length of it but from what caused it. The stink of repugnant iron was coming off the knife, Hannibal feeling an old magic coming from the weapon, the grey metal of it simple to the point of crude in design with long forgotten symbols carved into its hilt.
The iron was being held by an upset human with dark hair that curled into loose ringlets from the salty air and interesting eyes the color of a coming storm, a sparkling mixture of grey and blues mingled together with just a hint of jade. Those storm eyes were set in an attractive face worthy of attention, a delicate jaw line covered in facial hair that mermen could not grow. If these were different circumstances, Hannibal knew he would stroke that strange growth of hair known as a beard before he ate the human's face off. As it was though, Hannibal found himself completely at this human's mercy. His body was bound, his magic harnessed, and his voice trapped within himself. Hannibal didn't fear death, found the concept of it even comforting, but he had been hoping his demise to be a touch more eloquent. Being butchered like a tuna by some fisherman did not hold any appeal, and that was only if the human decided to kill him. He might have other plans, some of which made Hannibal shudder as he considered them.
Tales of merfolk captured by human were filled with the horror of dying slowly in tanks of putrid water far from their mother sea. Merfolk were essentially immortal thanks to the sea and the moon's influence, but that could be viewed as a curse for any who found themselves caught and separated from their true home. Existence on land would be a half life of sorts until the imprisoned merfolk simply gave up the ghost on a new moon, too miserable to carry on and finally able to die without the celestial lifeline.
The few and far between who had endured such things and lived to tell about it had warned others of how their brothers and sisters had died after being made spectacles to be gawked at. Gritting his sharp teeth, Hannibal vowed not to be one of those who gave up. He would endure, resolved to do so no matter what, and once he returned to the ocean, he would kill any and all humans he came across. Hannibal realized he was getting ahead of himself though, the human having yet to make a move or even speak.
The man simply watched the merman, and Hannibal watched the human back, waiting patiently for the man to come to a decision. A patience that was sorely getting tested upon noticing the sun had completed a good length of its journey from one side of sky to the other. Not only was he beginning to dry out to the point his scales itched, but Hannibal was also getting bored. If this continued on much longer, he would have to change his beautiful tail into legs which was always more of a hassle than it was worth.
Uncomfortable and getting unbearably itchy, Hannibal wondered if the spell on the netting would allow him to shift, the merman wiggled about a bit to see how much room he had to work with. The movement seemed to break the fisherman out of his spell, the human finally falling upon him with knife in hand. Given his limited space, Hannibal flinched away as far as he could, preparing himself for the killing blow.
Instead of a searing metal length being plunged in his chest like he had expected, Hannibal held himself in rigid shock as the knife cut through the netting instead of his flesh, all while the fisherman shoved and bodily lifted Hannibal over the side of the boat. A swift, solid kick to the merman's backside sent Hannibal falling back into the water, watching miffed as the netting fell harmlessly away from him. Hannibal shredded it on principle, to see if he could and to take pleasure from his confinement's destruction. Hannibal theorized that the knife must have been used to place the spell on the netting thus making it the key to its removal. Even the small wound on his tail was healing up, though it would forever have a scar upon it from the iron.
Turning his attention back to the boat, Hannibal found it was already gone, the human paddled madly back to the shoreline like he had any chance of escaping a merman in the ocean. Intrigued, the merman followed the boat easily enough back to where it docked though Hannibal kept himself hidden under the water. He risked nearing the human structure, using the other boats there as cover to watch his human disembark in a great hurry.
"Catch anything, Will?" asked another fisherman, burned red by the sun with his own catch in hand, the greeting allowing Hannibal to learn his former captor's name.
"Yes…N-no…It got away." the human Hannibal knew now as Will stammered back in answer, ducking his head to avoid eye contact as he all but ran from the docks and down the beach, keeping his distance from the water. The merman watched him go, following alongside him in the rip currents until Will reached a small structure that humans tended to live in. It was near enough to the water that Hannibal could see it clearly, its yard filled with broken boats and parts of boats. Hannibal realized it was this human's job to either fix vessels and their mechanisms or make them or both.
Fixated upon the dwelling, the merman watched as the human Will came out again after a while to sit outside his home, surrounded by strange furry animals that Hannibal recalled were called dogs. Will drank straight from a bottle full of amber liquid, and stared out at the sea, but made no move toward it. The hateful iron knife was still sheathed at his side, the human touching it often enough as if to reassure himself that it was still there. Intrigued, Hannibal stayed and watched Will until the human stumbled back inside his house, letting all the dogs enter before slamming the door shut.
Tapping his tail thoughtfully with his talons, Hannibal found himself wondering about the strange human, why he had shown the merman mercy. Hannibal knew if he had been in Will's position, he would have killed his prey without a second thought. It wasn't often anything interested Hannibal but when it did, that curiosity was focused upon fully by the merman until he was satisfied.
By the time the moon had fully come up, Hannibal decided that legs might just be worth the hassle.
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idk