do NOT ask my why i wrote this like 7 years ago and why im editing and continuing it now, bc bitch idk!
anyway hi, this is like one of my very first fanfictions that i have ever written and have a weird emotional attachment to that im fixing and continuing bc of quarantine
It was already SUPER fucking bad so theres only so much i can actually fix without completely rewriting it, which im too lazy to do since there are like 9 chapters worth of content
Im literally so sorry my writing was so bad, its to the point where i like cant even fix it lmao
if you can get through the first nine chapters (they're short i promise) i will actually seriously love you forever
An olive foot combed over the sand, yellow painted toenails dislodging a few shells for the owner to inspect. Similarly olive hands grasped at a black and white composition book simply labeled "shells" on the front in gold paint pen. The visible page showed several printed pictures of shells taped in with scribbled writing and checkboxes off to the side. Occasionally, a hand crosses something off or scribbles a sloppy sketch of a shell on the back of the previous page with some sort of note by it.
A teenage girl scribbled all over the page in an erratic display of frustration and snapped the journal shut, tucking it into a canvas bag over her shoulder that held a diverse assortment of items, including her designated zip lock shell bag (which was relatively empty,) an unopened purple soda, a bunched up Peter Pan towel, a steel compass, and an old swiss army knife.
Short legs covered by the damp bottom half of a black wetsuit dexterously made their way around and over the coffee colored rocks that were clumped together around the otherwise deserted beach. If it was anyone's guess, this young lady was recently diving, regardless that her diving equipment was worn down flippers, yellow goggles, and a very old looking rebreather—all tucked neatly inside the canvas bag slung over her shoulder. On her head was a wet tangled mess of long brown hair, styled in what seems to be a somewhat sloppy side-shave that needed a trim.
The top part of her wetsuit was drooped carelessly in front of her, flapping against her and revealing the top half of a light tan one-piece bathing suit. Standing at 5'3", she had a relatively normal upper body with strong arms, a few beauty marks are visible across the dark, honey-colored skin of the exposed appendages, matching the color of her deep-set, slanted auburn eyes that rested above a squished, oval shaped nose that dropped evenly down from its peak, freckles scattering across her face's middle.
Collecting and recording shells was supposed to be a fun, therapeutic side-hobby for Tavra Nitram.
Sometimes, it just wasn't.
She found that unless she came across a new or pretty shell within the first 25 minutes of searching, she would give up in either silent resignation or petty frustration and kick around the sand for a few minutes before trudging off to do something else. She would have quit altogether a long time ago if it wasn't for the pride she felt in herself whenever she took a moment to stand back and look at her collection of cool shells. It was her friend Aradia who'd suggested that Tavra take a break from her dusty Pokémon Card collection and try out something different—collecting and cataloging shells she thought were pretty. It'd also been Aradia who'd discovered the sorts of amazing treasures that could be found on beaches that were blocked off or hidden by the island's thick foliage. Sea glass, small pieces of brightly colored coral, strange bones, and on rare occasions a glimmering sea troll scale. But that was only just a taste of why Tavra kept returning to the uninhabited half of the island. It was far away from the small beach cottages, cabanas, and the close-knit community of the small city. Things she didn't mind but had grown tired of. She was tired of being stuck on an island that took less than 5 hours to walk from one side to the other.
Aradia and her family moved there from Japan when Tavra had been about eight. As a child, Tavra's skin had been covered in pink blotches of eczema, with ears far too big for her head and a constantly stuffy nose. She had never really made a friend before, spending most of her time with the docile animals on the island. She was a shy and introverted girl who cried too much and suffered from panic attacks and anxiety. But the day they became friends was the day Tavra's life had started to become infinitely better.
She still remembered their first words to each other.
"I like the markings on your skin."
"Y-you, um… wha—"
"You're pink spots. I think they're pretty. Would you like to look for dinosaur bones with me?"
After that they'd become inseparable, spending most days going on adventures, climbing trees, roughhousing, and making jewelry from things they found on the beach. They called themselves team charge and had hands down one of the sickest secret handshakes ever.
Tavra realized she'd been staring off into space remembering how rad their handshake was been when the crackling ping of a text sounded from the water-damaged speakers on her phone. She slid it from her bag. It used to be Karkat's old phone; she'd gotten it as a half-assed hand-me-down gift in her freshmen year. Since then, the back had become strewn with dozens of stickers, some of which were starting to peel, and a small orange Squiddles phone charm hung at the side. Sliding the cracked screen up to reveal the LG keypad, Tavra squinted her eyes faintly at the grey text.
- carcinoGenetecist [CG] began pestering adiosToreador at 18:22 -
CG: DONE.
CG: FUCKING FINALLY DONE.
CG: FUCK
CG: FUCKING
CG: DONE
AT: yOU, fINISHED YOUR SUMMER CLASSES! }:o
CG: YES I DID.
CG: BOW BEFORE ME.
AT: i TREMBLE AND QUAKE, iN AWE AT YOUR MAJESTY, o vANTAS THE gREAT,
CG: DAMN STRAIGHT. YOU APPEASE ME, LOWLY COMMONER.
AT: sO, wHEN ARE, yOUR FINALS' GRADES COMING IN?
AT: bECAUSE, yEAH,
AT: tHAT'S PROBABLY PRETTY IMPORTANT, pROBABLY,
CG: OH MY THROBBING PHLEGM LOBE, WHO GIVES A BARFING FUCK ABOUT THAT.
CG: I KNOW I DID BETTER THAN EVERY SINGLE BRAIN DEAD ASSWHIPE WHO WAS THERE.
AT: aLRIGHT,
AT: aNYWAYS, yOU WERE IN A CRAMPED CLASSROOM, tAKING THREE DIFFERENT EXAMS, oNE AFTER THE OTHER, fOR SIX HOURS,
AT: sO YOU SHOULD, pROBABLY TAKE SOME ADVIL, wHENEVER YOU GET HOME,
AT: yOU KNOW, fOR LIKE, iF YOU HAVE A HEADACHE, mAYBE,
CG: DON'T EVEN TALK TO BE ABOUT HEADACHES.
CG: RIGHT NOW THERE'S A LUMBERJACK SPLITTING WOOD ON MY SKULL.
CG: HE'S GOT THE FOREARMS OF A CHOLERBEAR, A MOUNTAIN OF LOGS, AND NOTHING BUT TIME.
AT: uH,
AT: oK, sO
AT: wHEN YOU GET HOME, yOU SHOULD, pROBABLY TAKE TWO OF THOSE LITTLE GEL CAPSULE ADVILS,
AT: iF THERE IS INDEED A LUMBERJACK, cHOPPING WOOD,
AR: oN YOUR HEAD,
CG: OH! OK! YES!
CG: THANK YOU TAV!
CG: I WOULDN'T HAVE KNOWN HOW TO WORK THE ADVIL WITHOUT YOUR GUIDING LIGHT.
AT: yOU'RE WELCOME,
CG: GOD, MY HEAD, IT HURTS.
CG: IT IS PRESENTLY THREATENING TO MAKE ME ITS BITCH, TAV. IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?
AT: nO,
CG: DO YOU WANT YOUR COOL BROTHER TO BECOME THE BITCH OF A RAW, THROBBING BRAIN?
CG: SUCH IS THE SCENARIO BEFORE US.
AT: wELL, iTS NOT,
AT: iTS NOT LIKE, i CAN CONTROL IT,
AT: nO OFFENCE, bUT i'D RATHER NOT, tALK TO YOU IF YOU'RE JUST GOING TO BLAME STUFF ON ME, aND GET ANGRY WHEN i TRY TO HELP,
AT: sORRY,
CG: URRGFGHN M
CG: I JUST NEED TO AIR OUT SOME SHIT WITH SOMEBODY, AND EVERYONE ON THIS ISLAND HAS THEIR HEADS SO FAR UP THEIR ASSES I WANT TO SCREAM LOUDER THAN I USUALLY DO.
AT: iTS OK,
AT: oNCE WE'RE BOTH HOME, wE CAN WATCH MOVIES AND ORDER PIZZA AND SLEEP,
AT: sO THAT YOU CAN UNWIND,
AT: iF YOU, wANT,
AT: i MEAN BECAUSE YOU HAVE LOTS OF MOVIE,
AT: mORE MOVIES THAN ME, aTLEAST, rIGHT?
CG: YEAH OF COURSE, I HAVE TONS OF MOVIES AND THEY ARE INFINITELY SUPERIOR TO YOUR COLLECTION OF PRIMITIVE CINEMATIC NEANDERTHRASHINGS.
AT: hEH HEH, i DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT WORD MEANS, }:)
CG: GOOD. (:B
AT: i'LL PROBABLY BE HOME IN ABOUT, uHH, tWO HOURS?
AT: aT THE MOST,
CG: RIGHT, OK.
AT: bYE, 3
CG: BYE.
CG: S
AT: yAY HAHA, i GET AN S,
CG: FUCK YOU THAT'S HOW I DO A HEART.
- carcinoGenetecist [CG] ceased pestering adiosToreador at 18:47 -
She climbed over a particularly large rock, smiling to herself while she carefully picked her way through the dried up barnacles. She tossed the phone from her fingers and into her bag.
Karkat had been offered a spot in the Nitram family after his father died during an unfortunate incident involving himself, a wild sea troll, and Tavra's father—who had evidently been his hunting partner. Her dad has since dedicated most of his time deep sea crabbing or sea troll hunting. She and Karkat rarely see him and have been more or less left to their own devices ever since.
Tavra was disappointed with her hull. All she'd found was some sea glass and a pastel pink bottle cap written on in shiny german letters. There'd been a hurricane the other night, so according to Tavra's universal constant, all the beaches should be loaded with washed up prizes. But there was nothing but an ugly mark of a bad storm. The entirety of the beach was missing a layer of sand, covered head to toe in seaweed and various other types of marine vegetation that was dislodged from the ocean floor. The most severe damage was done to the sand dunes. They'd virtually been washed away, as well as a good ten feet of beach.
She frowned, jumping down to the sand on the other side of the rocks, probably with more force than necessary if the pain in her ankles had anything to say about it. She should start heading back. It was nearly seven and took a while to get back on foot no matter how many shortcuts she knew. But she really didn't want to leave just yet. Most everyone hated the sensation of feeling gritty with sand from head to toe—And the feeling of drying salt water on their skin and hair. Tavra however relished it. She spent over half of her time on the Western side of the island where there were wild docile animals, abandoned fruit plantations, beaches, and coves. It was empty and void of all human life but her and was the closest place to the coral reef that surrounded her home.
The low sun's light was orange and dimming around her, leaving Tavra pleasantly warm. She continued her walk, no longer scavenging but watching seagulls zip back and forth across the water and listening to the gentle crashing of white-capped waves against rock and sand alike. She stretched her arms above her head contently, thoughtlessly kicking up a bundle of dried up marsh grass in her path out of mild absence. A chance gust of wind successfully blew it straight back into her face, causing her to jerk back in surprise and sputter, arms thrashing the brown tendrils away from her. She shook her head, deftly plucking out a few small pieces from her hair. She spared a look down at the spot where her attacker had laid dormant until a few moments ago, faintly narrowing her eyes in a mild glare. Her vision shifted so she could also glower at what was left of the dried marsh grass heap, but by chance her eye caught a slender line of what would have looked like boat motor oil if not for the oddly distinct purple hue. She could recognize several larger splotches around a cluster of rocks ahead of her. Tavra looked down at her beat-up waterproof watch—only 7:23 pm, she still had time.
Her curiosity peaked as she made her way over to the group of rocks, faltering a moment to shoot her watch's time an unsure look before shaking her head and proceeding. Tavra couldn't help but think how unstable some of these rocks looked. A few taller boulders look ready to topple over any given moment—in fact, it looked like several already had during the storm. They fell in such a way that they created a strange cove-like formation around a small gulley no more than fifteen feet across. She noticed that it was slowly emptying into the ocean through a stream of murky water.
Upon further approach, she could see how dark the water was, but a mass of tangled shrimping net resting beneath the murky water was clearly distinguishable for all to see.
She felt herself visibly deflate. Had she been hoping for a dead body or something? God, what—
The shrimping net shifted rigidly under the water, and Tavra gasped maybe a bit too dramatically.
"Oh—oh my gosh!" She nearly threw her canvas bag into the air trying to get it off as she worked to kick her sandals from her feet, falling over only once.
She rushed into the sun heated water—only she misestimated how deep the water actually was, so her entire body just went plunging in before she'd even managed her first step. She resurfaced, spitting the oddly bittersweet tasting water out of her mouth. It was really just a little more than three feet deep, but she had only been expecting a foot of water at most.
Wet bangs swinging in Tavra's face, she trudged forward with meaning, tripping and stumbling a few times before she reached the body. Her hands felt over the layers of mesh and found what were probably shoulders. She hooked her arms under them as best she could through the net, which wasn't very well. Her damp bangs flopped over her eyes, forcing her to flip them away with a ridiculous looking toss of her head as she pulled the body farther up in her arms with a quick "Hup!"
The mystery net person barely twitched as they were tugged fluently through the dirtied water and towards the edge of the pool. Tavra stopped once most of them rested on the sand.
Through the tangled layers of net, she could see how troublingly pale and bruised looking the skin was. The shadows cast from the rocks gave it a sickly grey appearance. Tavra's eyes flitted every which way and she wrung her hands close to her chest fretfully. Oh man, she really hoped they weren't dead.
She knelt down on her knees to hover worryingly over the body, ignoring how her soaked wetsuit felt tight and uncomfortable against the sand and her skin.
"Excuse me," she said tentatively "A-Are you alright?"
There was no response from the cocooned body. Tavra wasn't really sure what she'd been expecting. She stretched back and grabbed her bag, rifling through it for a moment before making a brief noise of self-victory when she retrieved a dinky swiss army knife. She returned back to her haunches and prepared to cut away the restricting net as she flicked it open.
Her hand stopped in its tracks. The small knife nearly falling from her grasp. The muscles through her body froze in unpleasant, dawning trepidation. Tavra's wide copper eyes were trained on something at the head end of the net heap. Through the layers of netting, she caught sight of two elegantly twisted orange horns visible from the confinements of the woven twine. She calmed her nerves, although did a miserable job of doing so, and took a steady breath, gnashing a generous portion of the material open in one slice to settle her suspicions. Tavra could see purple, nearly black, slimy scales.
She was almost positive someone had doused ice-cold water over her and thrown rocks to the bottom of her stomach. She covered her mouth, listening to her brain's command of "Get the fuck out now," and clambered behind the closest rock. Her heart was pounding at triple its normal speed and she felt her breath coming out heavier and when did the beach get so small and—NO. She will not have a panic attack. Tavra forced her breathing to regulate, closing her eyes, pushing her back against the hard edge of the rock and gripping the cool damp sand with her free hand as she listened to the small, gentle whitecaps of low tide splash against the shoreline.
She did not have time for that. Fuck you anxiety.
She reopened her eyes, continuing her breathing exercise even though she'd pacified herself enough to not need them. In any other situation, she would have totally high-fived herself for successfully evading a panic attack, but the occurrence had already passed for Tavra, who was cautiously peering over her safety rock. The messy bundle didn't appear to be moving, but still she held onto her knife with sweaty palms. She took a few moments to muster her best Nitram game face—and walked out in front of the creature.