Searching for a missing warrior siren on the hostile mainland is no easy task for an anxious merman, especially when a lazy swamp witch gets thrown into the mix.
Pairings Beyond Grimmons:
~Kai x Carolina
~Mentioned Tuckington
Other Notes for This Story:
~Mermaid Fantasy AU with sirens and swamp witches. Oh, my! :D
Legal Disclaimer: I do not own Red vs. Blue or any of the show's characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.
La Mer
Once again, Richard "Dick" Simmons pondered over his life choices as he tried to figure out what exactly had brought him here. It certainly never once occurred to him to leave the relative security and stability of the clear, sunny waters surrounding the confusingly named island chain of Blood Gulch for the far more treacherous mainland continent of Valhalla. Yet, here in Valhalla he most inexplicably was.
In a dimly-lit, horribly stuffy and claustrophobic-inducing tavern no less. The depressing place made him long for the open windows of the buildings he had grown up with, those homes complete with their own shallow pools or steam vents if one wasn't inclined to wait for rain or take a quick walk over to the various lagoons and shallows that dotted the islands, to visit the sea that was always invitingly close by.
The air felt too dry in the tavern. Simmons could feel his scales and skin start to crack and peel beneath the concealing gray cloak Washington had insisted he wear in order to avoid detection from the superstitious land-dwellers. The redhead felt as though the dirt and dust swirling throughout the tavern thanks to the walls foolishly erected to keep the sea and its refreshing breezes out, would cling to every crevice and he would never be able to dive deep enough into the depths to fully remove it.
That was just the unwelcoming and perplexing environment itself, to say nothing of the locals he knew would like nothing more than to split him open from head to toe for a nice meal and exotic skin, who would only see him as a monster and not someone desperately looking for someone who could nearly be called kin to make sure they were safe before going back on their merry way home and let everyone else live in peace in their confusing, not-at-all-comfortable city.
The land-dweller who had so rudely sat down uninvited at his table had just so succinctly and rather rudely, without any preamble or greeting, reminded him of all the horrific things that awaited merpeople on land. As though Simmons were not all too painfully aware of the ludicrous notion of one of his kind being here, of the constant danger he was currently in.
Considering how he had tried to play it cool since arriving by not trying to engage people in conversation for those very understandable reasons while inwardly debating with his anxious thoughts about just how he could accomplish his mission without taking any unnecessary risks in exposing himself to net-throwing, knife-wielding humans and failing miserably at finding a decent solution to that problem, the fact that this incident with a land-dweller was even happening at all was enough to give him pause and temporarily have his brain cease asking anything resembling constructive, probably very much needed and helpful, questions.
"Er, come again?"
Case in point, really. He couldn't believe that had just come out of his stupid mouth.
Sarge must have been delirious when he had so vehemently declared that the redhead was the right one for the job when he came up with this vital mission. Simmons would never have the heart to say no because, not only was he concerned himself, but also because he still was hopelessly trying to please the surrogate father figure in his life even though he knew Sarge's tactics were insane. Besides, if it wasn't for Simmons' own willingness to hang around the group of sirens that the older merman kept insisting on calling the Blues due to the feather coloring of a majority of their number, he wouldn't have even known the missing Carolina.
The Reds and Blues. Quite a dynamic. Sarge, the older, red marked and scaled, leader of the merfolk's counter security force to the Blues, had quickly started calling his team the Reds due to the majority of their scale colorings and somehow that had meant a huge rivalry between the two groups.
A rivalry that only existed in Sarge's head since it wasn't as if the two groups of outcast sea peoples were fighting one another anymore. A truce had been formed well before many of them, save perhaps Sarge, could even remember in order to unite their forces so that they could protect their dwindling populations from the more prominent threat of the numerous land-dwellers, especially once the monster-killing mainland group known as Hunters shifted their attention to poaching the monstrous sea-folk lurking in the waters around Valhalla, which was stupid really.
The sea-folk had tried minding their own business once they realized that the humans from Valhalla weren't exactly welcoming of their presence, but apparently their just being alive still was a serious security concern.
The younger generations of both the merfolk and the sirens had even formed a joint patrol group together, known fondly as Chorus, under the siren Kimball's leadership. And if "fraternizin'" with former enemies was so terrible a thing, how come Donut wasn't punished for it too with potentially suicidal missions to the mainland? The pink merman was always hanging out with the Blues, way more than Simmons did!
But, he supposed that was beside the point in this particular case. After all, Simmons had been the last one to see Carolina before her disappearance from Blood Gulch and its surrounding waters.
He had been the only one to see the small, rickety boat approach (it was a miracle the thing had even managed to make it that far out to sea given its decrepit shape), despite how the cyan-feathered redhead's "miraculous" songs would usually be enough to make land-dwelling vessels steer clear of the sea-folk territory entirely. Carolina's singing usually managed to have the opposite effect of the ship-luring tones of the rest of her people. Simmons had even heard the declarative, unknown voice that called out to the perplexed female siren as she watched from the rocks that Simmons had swam close to.
"Hey, that's pretty fucking hot! I bet you'd make a killing at a music festival!"
Perhaps the whole bizarre turn of events had so caught the usually overly-cautious and protective Carolina off-guard that she decided to approach the boat the second that Simmons dove back beneath the waves to report this new development to Sarge and the rest of the Reds and the Blues, confident at the time that Carolina could take care of herself given the state of the barely floating ship since she was more than capable of doing so in even the most daunting of scenarios. Maybe Sarge was right in that it had turned out to be some new, diabolical poaching technique that those jerk Hunters were using to catch sea-folk unawares…
But especially if that was the case because it had been Carolina of all of them to have gone missing, how was it fair to have Simmons go to the fucking mainland of Valhalla to gather clues and intel by himself? If a warrior as skilled as Carolina had actually been subdued, there was no way that a guy who didn't exactly deal with stress or pressure all that well and had only joined the Reds because Sarge had called him "son" once would!
The heavyset, tan-skinned man sitting across from him seemed as underwhelmed by Simmons' investigative efforts as the redheaded merman himself was. His long, wavy black hair fell down past his shoulders in stark contrast to Simmons' shortly cropped cut, which was odd in a way. He knew other merfolk often preferred their hair long, but he had never liked pulling out bits of seaweed and other ocean debris from it, and he still had nightmares of that time he found a jellyfish tangled up in his locks when he was a kid and his parents had refused to let him get a haircut. From what he knew of humans, many of the male sailors and poachers often seemed to keep their hair rather short. Perhaps this human was out-of-the-norm himself, then?
It would certainly make sense as to why the tavern owner had simply plopped his drink down without so much as a word and then gave their table a wide berth, casting a suspicious glance pointedly their way every so often. He had been doing that with more frequency since this stranger had sat down, which was saying something considering the awkwardness that Simmons was no doubt radiating from his very core.
"You heard me." The heavyset man stated finally in response to Simmons' woefully lacking in eloquence question, "I wouldn't be asking questions about winged ladies who like to sing out on rocks in the middle of the fucking ocean in this place, dude."
"But…!" Simmons remarked as his shoulders slumped, maroon hands clenching tightly on the table before him as he processed this remark. He thought he had been fucking subtle when he'd tentatively approached a few of the human residents who didn't look liable to murder him outright, though that one old lady he had asked certainly seemed to take a long time debating if she should beat him to death with her satchel or not before kindly telling him to get out of the heat.
"The people here are a bunch of close-minded bigots who would love nothing more than to roast both your peoples alive just for the hell of it." The stranger continued on over Simmons' weak protest rather succinctly, "You're not even trying that hard to cover up what you are."
Simmons frowned, looking down at his cloak-covered body. He personally thought that he had done well enough in covering most of the fins and scales that adorned his still very humanoid form. Most land-dwellers still incorrectly assumed that merfolk had fish tails, for fuck's sake! The maroon markings on his face and in some of the tints in what was visible of his hair despite how he kept the hood up even in this hot-as-fuck building could just be creative tattoos and dye patterns as far as anyone else was concerned, and the maroon scales that showed out of the folds of his billowing disguise covering his hands and down his legs all the way to his feet could just be questionable fashion statements in gloves and boots.
Maybe he should have taken up Donut's offer to help him out with concealment. The other merman was always trying to bring the mainland fashions he observed from passing ships back to Blood Gulch following his ocean outings. Like that time he had convinced Jensen to try wearing that tan and maroon-colored hat that matched her scales just so, despite the fact that the ridiculous thing floated off the younger mermaid's head the second she went with the rest of Chorus out for a dive patrol.
But having that mistake brought up by some smug, know-it-all jerk who had so correctly picked up on just how out of his element this whole assignment had caused Simmons to be had the merman feeling as though it was more of a challenge instead.
Simmons couldn't help but glare at the enigmatic asshole sitting across from him when that thought caused a surge of annoyance to flare up, "Like you're one to talk?" He mumbled.
The guy was donning a bright, orange cloak himself though the hood was pulled down currently. And here he was, trying to tell Simmons to be discreet? Jackass! Something about the sight of the article of clothing, the sheen of the fabric maybe, had been tickling the back of Simmons' mind ever since this weird exchange had started up though.
Had he seen the same type or make of cloak somewhere before maybe? Perhaps in a lighter color or something? The thought kept pestering him though he couldn't really place why he was experiencing it. Unfortunately, he didn't pay attention nearly as much as his pink-scaled friend when it came to clothing.
Furthermore, this guy just walking over and knowing exactly what Simmons truly was, as well as who he was looking for, caused an overwhelming amount of alarm bells to go off in his mind.
The human smirked at Simmons' comment, apparently more amused by the merman's ire than anything else, which only served to make Simmons feel even more aggravated, "Hey, I just thought I'd do you a favor since we're both in a tight spot on account of this." The orange-cloaked stranger replied, shrugging his shoulders apathetically.
Simmons' eyebrows furrowed, unsure of what the newcomer was talking about, "Wh—what do you mean?"
But for someone as large and brightly-clothed as he was, the stranger moved fast. He was up from his seat and practically melting into the shadows of the tavern's walls before Simmons had even managed to properly finish his question.
Simmons blinked, caught by surprise once more. It took him a second longer to realize that the fat-ass had left him to pay for his drink too. He grimaced, "Son of a bitch!"
Oh yes, this search was off to a fantastic start already.
At least visiting that first land-dweller settlement upon reaching Valhalla's shoreline hadn't been without some measure of success. As superstitious and suspecting as the populace seemed to be in regards to strangers, they were as much into discussing gossip as Donut and Doc were back on Blood Gulch, which worked wonderfully for Simmons as he pretended to browse various markets he came across.
After all, he wouldn't have probably found out about the "swamp witches" otherwise since asking specifically for them would have had Hunters heading his way just as surely as his earlier queries about someone matching Carolina's appearance would have.
If there was any land-dweller who could help him in tracking down Carolina and her alleged kidnappers, it would be one versed in magic.
Simmons just hoped they wouldn't turn out to be as difficult to talk to as sea-witches could be in their underwater lairs. He really didn't want to lose his voice or feel as though he were walking on needles and the point of knives for the rest of his life in exchange for assistance in his search.
How Locus had managed to work for one as long as he did before his conscience somehow got the best of him, Simmons would never know. It wasn't like the warrior merman ever discussed that time with anyone but Lopez in their bafflingly shared secret language.
Of course, because humans were a superstitious and close-minded lot as that fat-ass who had stiffed him with his drink bill before had so aptly pointed out, they weren't too keen on their particular breed of witches living within their city walls.
Anyone who happened to be so much as suspected of being capable of witchcraft or magic were driven out into less hospitable areas of Valhalla, if they weren't caught by the Hunters and subsequently executed. Perhaps in fitting with the tales that land-dwellers loved to tell in order to scare their children into behaving themselves, these particular witches lived out in the middle of a rather uninviting swamp.
Why there was a swamp so close to the shoreline was beyond Simmons' comprehension, but apparently the mainland was something of a fucked-up place due to all the wars that had taken place there over the centuries.
Many of those had apparently involved quite a bit of magic and monsters, so he supposed he could almost understand the reasoning behind why land-dwellers weren't too fond of anything remotely different from their protected "norm" now, though that was hardly an excuse for them to be prejudicial assholes to anyone different from them, especially with the way they acted towards the sea-folk once they cast their eyes outwards.
Simmons had, while traversing through the hazardous and unappealing marshes and bogs of the swamp, long since ditched the gray cloak he had been wearing to conceal himself within the human settlement. He almost felt guilty because Washington had given it to him, but Tucker had been quick to assure him that the older siren had about fifty just like it at their shared home because he was "paranoid as all fuck" so it wasn't like he would miss the damn thing. It had gotten far too heavy to be comfortable and only further dragged him down into the muddy gunk and sludge he was traversing through the further along he went due to it soaking up said mud and filthy swamp water. Another reason as to why merfolk, unlike their siren counterparts, preferred wearing as minimal of clothing as possible: too many articles of clothing only slowed you down, especially out at sea.
However, Simmons wouldn't have minded some very tight boots or something in this case as he grimaced with every wet, squelching noise his barefooted steps made. He had been walking for hours now, and it still seemed as if he wasn't advancing far.
A part of him felt ridiculously foolish for even attempting this endeavor now. After all, what if he was just wasting his time while Carolina really needed help? Besides, who even knew if the rumors about the witches had been true?
"Dude, if I knew you would try tracking me down on your own I would have just given you my address."
Simmons started at the way too familiar voice that spoke up just then right in front of him, at the sudden watertight boots caked in drying mud that were suddenly near his direct line of vision.
The lanky merman glanced up from where he was now waist-deep in swamp water and mud, he was pretty fucking sure that some kind of snake just brushed past his knee and he was so not going to think about that right now, gaping up at the sight of a moldy shack of a cabin on the small island that now appeared before him.
Standing right in front of that sight was the smirking tavern asshole from before, his brown eyes looking both amused and perturbed all at once as he looked down at the still struggling and gaping merperson before him.
"You've been stuck in my looping barrier since you got here, nerd." The human informed him in response to Simmons' questioning gaze, "Be glad I feel generous enough to talk."
Simmons continued to gape in open disbelief once the chubby guy turned around and started disinterestedly heading in the direction of the ramshackle building, realization hitting him as hard as a pile of rocks thrown by Caboose and Donut during their games of "catch" with Caboose's dolphin Freckles, "You're…a land-witch?!" He cried out to the human incredulously.
The man turned around, rolling his eyes for good measure as he held up a finger, "First, you just say witch here." He noted tersely before holding up another finger along with the first one, "Second, the only witch here is my dumb-as-all-fuck sister. I'm clearly a fucking warlock. Why doesn't anyone get that?!"
The witch's (ahem, warlock's) name was Dexter Grif, and he wasn't exactly the most gracious of hosts after Simmons followed him inside the cabin.
He waited impatiently as Simmons tried in vain to clean most of the swamp gunk off of his body, taking in the rather tight and cramped living quarters as he did so. One room with two small beds stacked on top of each other off to the side and a small space for cooking, then a couple of small pieces of furniture that had clearly seen better days making up the rest of the house, bits of faded fabric and straw stuffed into the larger holes in the rotten wood planks that made up the walls.
The human promptly plopped himself down and stretched out on the largest chair available, leaving Simmons with a creaky wooden one that was, rather painfully to the merman's senses, propped up by a book.
"Uh, I let you through the barrier eventually, didn't I?" Grif scoffed after Simmons' pointed out that he wasn't exactly being the most welcoming sort, fixing the redhead with a pointed glare instead, "It's not like I owe you fish assholes anything."
He was, also, evidently rather peeved by sea-folk at the moment. Simmons bristled at that particular remark. After all, he hadn't called him a swamp weirdo or anything like that, had he? But, he tried letting it slide if only because he now had a much better understanding of what had happened to Carolina thanks to the story that the black-haired man had told him.
You see, Grif and his little sister Kaikaina, Kai for short, had been cast out of the very walled human settlement that Simmons had recently visited for having been born with the ability to cast all sorts of spells at a way too young an age for such an action to be considered anything but cruel and heartless, though Simmons supposed one could almost give the townsfolk credit that they had chosen to do that instead of simply turning the two terrified siblings over to the Hunters immediately for public execution. But that was a weak defense at best and probably only one they had conceived so as to be able to sleep at night after having left children to fend for themselves out in the wild.
The Grif siblings lived here in the swamp under the protection of a looping barrier they had concocted to keep their home undetected by Hunters, only venturing out to the city nearby as needed.
It wasn't exactly a life Simmons would find all too pleasant, as to him it fell into merely just surviving and not much else. Sure, one could argue that the denizens of Blood Gulch were in a similar way as they had chosen to isolate themselves on the island chain and its surrounding waters in order to avoid coming into unwanted contact with the mainland, but they had a much more pleasant environment to live in, a lively population to interact with, more fortified defenses than one could shake a stick at, and they didn't have to remain just there either as the ocean was large and deep enough to explore without a constant need to worry about being caught by poachers.
Still, the siblings had been able to survive together and Grif figured that counted for something, so he tried not to complain as he strove to make sure the house didn't fall apart and that people didn't catch on to who they were in relation to the little kids they had sent out to die all those years ago.
Kai, however, had always been something of a precocious wild child, and that had only intensified as she grew up. She was not nearly as content as Grif was with living peacefully out in the swamp and minding his own business so long as they were both healthy and as safe as they could be under the circumstances. Grif had often found himself spending a lot of exhausting time trying to make sure her antics didn't get them into trouble. Kai had heard about "magical outcasts" rather similar to the siblings who lived out on the sea, and she had desperately wanted to meet some of these creatures at least.
"Waste of fucking time, since we're still land-dwellers." Grif shrugged his shoulders at the notion, "It's not like we would be accepted there either."
Well, it might be a little tricky getting certain people to accept magical humans at first, but Simmons actually felt like it would be easier to accomplish than Grif seemed to think. After all, no one had any trouble really accepting Locus into the fold even though everyone knew he had done some truly questionable things in the past, and all of the sea-folk living in Blood Gulch were woefully familiar with the humans' prejudicial treatment of those they felt were somehow different. He had no doubt that some, such as Sarge, Locus, Kimball, Carolina, and Wash, would even welcome the chance to add further defensive measures like a barrier loop or other types of protection or alarm magic spells into the mix of Blood Gulch's already rather fortified defenses for added security.
Besides, it wasn't like they live in the ocean all the time.
"We actually live on islands." Simmons tried weakly informing the orange-cloaked human.
Grif chose to ignore his comment entirely.
So, Kai somehow got herself a piss-poor boat that Grif had been certain would sink even before it really left the docks, making the whole matter moot. Only it didn't sink, which is how she eventually met Carolina out by the island rocks.
Kai then managed to convince the armored siren to come back to Valhalla with her, very much certain that they would be able to "kick some ass" at a human music festival of all things. Neither of them even waited for Grif's yells of protests to stop before they had hightailed it out of the swamp after the yellow-wearing young female declared their intention, Kai laughing the whole way at his exasperation.
Though, one part of that story really boggled Simmons' mind.
"Um, have you heard Carolina sing?" Simmons asked tentatively once his scowling host finished his recollection, because that was a huge flaw in the music festival scheme that scared him shitless.
Tucker and Washington were both adamant to say that their fellow siren had a great singing voice in particular, and encouraged everyone else to do the same for all of their continued health and wellbeing, but honestly?
There was a reason that ships went the other way instead when Carolina sang.
"It doesn't really matter." Grif stated in obvious frustration, though he couldn't help but shudder slightly at an apparent sliver of memory, "She wouldn't even get the chance to try. A winged lady showing up in public? Once they realize those cyan feathers sticking out of her hair aren't for show, she and Kai will be…"
He didn't finish his sentence, his expression darkening with troubled thoughts and a slew of undeniable worry. Honestly, Grif didn't have to finish it.
Simmons gulped, a contemplative frown crossing over his own face, "But why would Carolina even want to do something like that?"
It didn't really make any sense. Sure, the siren loved singing as earnestly as any of her people did, and she joked about doing so for entertainment at times, to which everyone usually laughed nervously or tried changing the subject. But for the prideful, fear-inducing warrior he knew to simply abandon looking out for her home and family? It didn't make any sense for the fighter he had only recently felt comfortable enough thinking of as a friend.
"Who the fuck cares?" Grif replied to his query with even more aggravated frustration "All I know is that I'm going to once again have to get out there and make sure Kai doesn't get herself or anyone else killed." He glowered at the wall, "I fucking hate that she found out about you assholes."
Simmons tried his best to not get too hurt by the generalized comment, fighting back a surprising sniffle as he asked, "S—so, why help me out then?"
There was a slight, uncomfortable pause at that particular question, as if Grif assumed his standoffishness and unmasked hostility would keep such a one at bay. His expression momentarily softened as he let out an immensely tired-sounding sigh and shrugged, "I just didn't like the idea of some other poor sap getting hurt or worse over this bullshit." He answered at length.
Ah, so maybe this Grif fellow was more kind and caring than he liked to admit given how outwardly and inwardly distrusting and cautious he had been in order to keep both himself and his younger sister alive.
Grif's tanned face darkened slightly at the cheeks in what Simmons realized with some surprise must have been the makings of a blush. He usually always felt his own face heating up as if it were on fire from such things when he got flustered. He didn't see it nearly as often occur to someone else. Grif threw an unreadable look Simmons' way.
The maroon-scaled merman started blushing himself rather heavily under the intense, dark-eyed gaze, having not realized that he had spoken that observation out loud until just then.
At length, Grif stood up and headed towards the unmade and messy bottom bunk bed, "Let's just rest for the night and set out first thing tomorrow. Gotta find them before those jerkoff Hunters do."
Simmons nodded quickly, looking around for a spot on the cluttered floor he could sleep on. He wasn't sure asking Grif if he could use his sister's bed was a good idea or not, and wasn't too keen on getting kicked out into the swamp again with the sky darkening to night. As he got ready to sleep, his heart beat oddly fast for some reason.
It turned out that Grif's fear of the Hunters finding his little sister and Carolina first wasn't what they should have been concerned with just then, as the two men woke up hours later to the suffocating smell of smoke and the heat of lapping flames.
"Shit, my house!" Grif wailed in-between coughs, though Simmons felt it probably wasn't quite as huge an issue as the human was making it out to be given the disrepair the tiny shack had been in.
Fairly certain such a thought wouldn't be seen as comforting in light of Grif and his sister having nowhere else that they considered home, Simmons grabbed the land-dweller's shoulders and pushed the sputtering man towards the back of the cabin just as the roof came crashing down on top of where they had previously been standing in a billowing avalanche of blazing wood, smoke, and ash.
Thanks to Grif, a black-colored protective barrier suddenly flared to life over their heads. Simmons watched in growing terror as the flaming debris made impact with it before crashing to the dirt floor around their feet. As the barrier of energy expanded outwards at the human's mental coaxing, the back wall they had been standing by went along with it in a flurry of broken wood fragments and fiery splinters.
Simmons, still holding on tightly to Grif throughout all of this, took the opening for the opportunity it was to hightail it away from the incendiary ambush. It only took a few small steps to reach the tiny island's edge, and he dove them both headfirst into the murky swamp water of what could only be described as a natural moat surrounding the landmass.
The merman held them there until the debris overhead no longer rained down in every which direction, and even longer still just to be safe. It was hard to see given the consistency of the water, but merfolk's eyesight underwater was impeccable so he could still make out darkened shapes overhead even in the murky depths.
There was no telling how many had come to attack them, so if they could remain concealed in the water maybe their attackers would think they had drowned or that no one had been home and leave!
Bubbles burst forth from Grif's mouth and nose just as Simmons made that worried strategy, and Simmons didn't give himself enough time to process just what he was about to do in order to avoid becoming too flustered or self-conscious before he covered the land-dweller's mouth with his own.
He didn't even pay much attention when Grif's eyes widened at the contact as Simmons tried desperately to keep sharing his own breath with the warlock in the less than pristine and probably not very hygienic conditions of the swamp. If they could stay underwater just a little while longer maybe, just maybe…!
But his hopes were soon dashed when intruding hands burst through the surface of water and roughly seized him. Both Grif and Simmons were shoved rather violently and bodily out of the far too temporary refuge Simmons had tried providing them with.
Grif gasped on the ground next to Simmons, both of them sopping wet on the muddy shore, but he managed a strangled cry of protest along with Simmons as they were torn apart by several invasively rough hands yet again.
The heavyset human in orange was dragged to the edge of the island, held in place by quite a few men garbed in protective black armor from head-to-toe. The armor was especially designed to dampen the effects of magic on the person wearing it. Simmons felt dread and terror clench his heart and chest at the sight, obviously recognizing a rather well-numbered group of Hunters for what they were.
As for the redhead, he was thrown roughly onto the still very hot ground next to the dying embers of what little remained of Grif's house. Simmons cried out in pain as bits of sharp wreckage cut into his bare skin, fearfully looking up at the menacing group clad in black.
He had seen Hunters several times out on the ocean too. After all, Hunters were eager poachers. Recently, they nearly would have caught Caboose if it hadn't been for Freckles defending him and Carolina showing up when she had. Come to think of it, Carolina had been acting off since then, hadn't she? As if she felt she hadn't been doing enough to make sure the poachers stayed away from them all.
"Well, what have we here?" A snide voice taunted above Simmons as the helmetless face of their leader came into sight. The merman noticed the grizzled-looking man was missing quite a few teeth as he looked back and forth between Simmons and Grif with a happily malevolent grin on his face, "We came here for the fat witch, but it looks like we ended up netting a scrawny fish too."
"Warlock, you asshole!" Grif shouted, as if trying to turn attention back his way and which was maybe not the smartest move at this moment, "How'd you fuckers even get here?"
The leader turned to Grif and smirked cruelly, holding up what looked like some kind of amulet that was glowing with a faint energy all its own. Grif stilled at the sight, forcing his hand up to clench at a nearly identical piece around his own throat despite the tight hold on his arms.
"After all this time, one of you abominations finally got fucking careless." The Hunter sneered, "Had to go and be lazy enough to carry a portable disenchantment field with you to save yourself the trouble of always dispelling it on your own, huh?"
Figured they'd get caught thanks to Grif's laziness, Simmons thought to himself, though he figured now wasn't the time to voice that grievance out loud.
Grif's expression twisted into a pained one as he tried to desperately snatch at the item that was being kept tauntingly out of reach by the gloating asshole, "Kai…" he got out shakily, dark eyes widening in terror, "What the fuck did you assholes do to Kai?!"
The man said nothing further, opting to punch the thrashing human's face in lieu of a response. A sick crunching noise could be heard when his gauntleted fist made impact, blood seeping from the warlock's mouth and nose following the blow.
"G—Grif!" Simmons tried getting up to get closer to the chubby land-dweller, but one of the other Hunters knocked him back down with a well-placed kick to his knees.
The leader's attention turned back to the merman, "Witches are worth a higher bounty if we can bring them in alive for execution, but you only ever get paid for dead fish." He told Simmons gleefully, "People don't care much for getting a look at the skin while it's still on one of you monsters, and you know what they say about eating you lot."
Grif groaned in pain behind them, "Get the fuck away!" He began, but one of his captors slammed his face forcibly into the dirt and held him there, smearing blood on the ground and interrupting the dark energy that had been building up around Grif's fingertips.
Simmons was shoved down onto his back roughly, a sword suddenly pressed against his belly. He flinched at the cold contact of the metal on his exposed flesh.
"Should we show a bit of mercy and kill him before we get to fileting?" The leader mused sadistically, casting a glance around at his eager-eyed men, "What say you, boys?"
"You're not doing either."
The Hunters all looked up in surprise at the new voice suddenly filling the air from above, just in time for a red-haired, cyan-feathered and armored form to drop down into their midst.
A tan young human woman in yellow unwrapped her arm from around Carolina's neck and dropped to the ground by her side as the taller siren cracked her knuckles meaningfully, "Surprise attack, bitches!" Kai declared loudly, as black fire let loose from her fingertips just as Carolina surged forward at the Hunter leader, "Nobody picks a fight with Dex without getting their asses kicked by me!"
The chaos that enveloped the tiny island out in the swamp gave Simmons the chance to crawl over to the now temporarily forgotten about Grif and reach for him, "Y—you okay?" He asked wearily.
Grif stood up shakily with Simmons' help, wiping gunk and blood from his face with a grimace, "These assholes burned my house down!" The orange-cloaked warlock grumbled as he threw fireballs with reckless abandon at the Hunters the same as his sister did, all while Simmons was still trying to process what exactly was going on.
One of the Hunters approached from Grif's blindside, so Simmons picked up a heavy branch and swung it with all his might. The resounding crack as it made impact with the guy's neck and the bodily crash to the ground a scant moment later drew Grif's attention. He shot Simmons a grateful look for having had his back, and Simmons couldn't help but smile warmly in return…
Only for that to turn to shock when another armored form slammed into him from the side, causing both Simmons and his Hunter assailant to crash into the water. Simmons twisted deftly in the murkiness to face his attacker, the sword already hitting his shoulder even as his own fists crashed against the Hunter's now exposed head.
His attacker's body went limp and the weight of all that waterlogged armor sank directly into Simmons, pulling him down along with it as blood drifted through the water around them. He couldn't help but wonder just how high the chances of infection here were…
A large, tan hand reached down through all that crimson and muck, hopefully for him since he reached up for it.
"…And that is what happened." Carolina recounted awkwardly, fidgeting in her chair at Simmons' bedside as she guiltily looked down at the floor, "I'm sorry I made everyone worry."
Simmons frowned in thought at what he had just been told, "So, you figured out from Kai that this group of poachers were hunting her and Grif too, which led to the two of you making up a plan to ambush them and get them off of everyone's backs for good?" He inquired at length.
In a way, it almost made more sense than he would care to admit. At least in regards to Carolina's mindset. She had already lost far too much to Hunters, people she only ever talked about softly to Washington or Caboose, so naturally she had been determined to not lose anyone else after Caboose had nearly been injured by them. Of course she thought she needed to take matters into her own hands to ensure no one else was hurt or lost again.
And Kai? Kai knew all about the sacrifices her brother had made to keep her safe throughout their lives, so she had wanted to return the favor and give him a chance at an actual peaceful life for once.
Carolina smiled thinly, a look of regret crossing over her features, "I didn't think anyone would be sent the mainland to find me," she began, "And Kai thought that Grif would have been trying to track us down at that music festival so he wouldn't be at their home."
"He was going to." Simmons stated softly when the siren trailed off, "But I ended up delaying him and…"
"This was all because Kai and I didn't properly plan any contingencies." Carolina interrupted him, her customary stern look in her green eyes, "None of this is your fault, Simmons."
"Y—yeah…" Simmons smiled at her shakily, not quite convinced himself but knowing that was probably more his self-esteem issues talking though if he hadn't delayed Grif, then he wouldn't have been at the house when the Hunters came and…he squeezed his eyes shut briefly to stop that rather distressing trail of thought.
Carolina stood up, stretching out her large, feathery wings that extended from the sides of her red head of hair with more than enough room to do so in the spacious guest bedroom that belonged to the Grif siblings in their new abode, "I should get going. Kai wants to hear me sing out on the rocks again."
Simmons smiled knowingly, "She really likes you, you know."
A smirk crossed the redhead's face, "The last couple of weeks have been fun." She admitted at length, almost uncharacteristically shy for a moment before a mischievous glimmer shone in her eyes, "Very active too."
Simmons tried not to blush so vividly that he matched his maroon coloring, and knew right away given how amused Carolina looked that he had failed miserably. Damn it!
"Grif's out by the shore again." Carolina informed him before leaving, causing Simmons to cover his now very hot face with a pillow.
Sure enough, the warlock was sitting on the beach once more, letting the waves of this particular island that helped to make up Blood Gulch crash softly against his body as the tide pushed them inland. Grif didn't even look towards Simmons as the other male sat down next to him on the wet sand, "Hey." He muttered apathetically when he heard the merman approach.
"Hey."
There was slight pause, and Grif cast his gaze sideways enough so that his eyes trailed from the maroon fin attached to Simmons' arm close by, up the scales coating the appendage and all the way to the freckled, way-too-pale flesh above that to land on the visible scar on his shoulder.
Grif frowned and looked away again, "Do you ever wonder why we're here?" He asked out of the blue, as if it was the most important query ever.
Simmons blinked at the sudden question, "Well, you and Kai came to live with us here on Blood Gulch since your house was destroyed after we got rid of the Hunters. You said I needed someone to make sure I was functioning okay while recovering even if it was going to be a pain in the ass for you, so you somehow managed to convince Sarge to move me here even though I was still perfectly capable of looking after myself."
Grif rolled his eyes at the often repeated rambling he heard in regards to their current living arrangement, never mind that the wound had healed up days ago and neither of them had brought that fact up since they secretly enjoyed their current status-quo.
"No, kiss-ass, I meant why are we here at all?"
"Oh." Simmons felt his face flush warmly as he contemplated the question anew, "W—well, no one really knows, right? It's one of life's great mysteries."
The redhead nervously glanced sideways at Grif and prepared himself for the inevitable teasing that answer would most likely land him with, but the elated smile on Grif's face instead caused his heart to skip a beat.
"Wha…what?" Simmons asked nervously, turning away to hide his growing blush although not wearing actual clothes didn't help in keeping it any sort of secret that he was a full-body blusher all the way down to the tips of his scales.
"Nothing." Grif assured him, "Just surprised by how much we're on the same wavelength."
Simmons gulped, suddenly very warm despite the cool waves, "W—well, if you think about it from a l—logic stance, it's really—"
He cut off suddenly when Grif reached out and covered his hand resting on the sand between them with his own. Simmons looked down as the warlock entwined their fingers together, maroon and tan. He swallowed as another wave washed over the sight, covering the gripped together fingers with wet sand and bits of shell as it receded.
"Had to go and nerd it up, huh, Simmons?" Grif joked finally, his tone soft and fond.
"Oh, shove it, fat-ass." Simmons said as he rolled his eyes in his customarily exasperated fashion, though his words lacked any real bite.
Grif grinned at the unspoken invitation in Simmons' words and demeanor, the magic-wielding land-dweller leaning across the mere centimeters between them to press his lips against Simmons' own. The merman returned the gesture eagerly, the sensation so much more when shared in moments like this when there was warmth and feeling behind it. Nothing but the overwhelming desire to be close to one another just for the hell of it.
Grif gently pushed Simmons down onto the beach as the contact between the two of them deepened, the waves washing over the pair as Simmons thought of how this kind of moment was very much his favorite combination of both dry and wet.
Author's Notes: There are some truly phenomenal Mermaid AUs in this fandom already that this story in no way holds a candle to, but my sister, who peruses Tumblr and Instagram while I'm too much of a socially anxious mess to do so, informed me of the awesome creative event known as MerMay. This story was created in celebration of all of the truly great works that come about as a result of it. :D
My fantasy people designs and concepts are largely inspired by video games because I am an awesome nerd like that: the merfolk description in this story stems from the really neat take on mermaids that Suikoden IV came up with (it is one of my favorite mermaid designs! :D), the sirens are totally based off of the design of Siren in Final Fantasy VIII (only with actual clothes, lol XD), and I am totally blaming the idea for including swamp witches in this story based on the swamp witch characters of Morrigan from Dragon Age: Origins and Chambara from Loren: The Amazon Princess. Lol, my nerd sense is tingling! XD
Kai and Carolina joining forces and getting together in this story totally came from the notion of how eager Carolina was to be a singer in Season 15 and the fact that Kai was managing music festivals then too. I REGRET NOTHING! XD
Both Grif and Simmons were totally crushing on one another since they first met in this story, but it's only natural for it to take a near fatal surprise attack and moving in together for them realize it because they are silly like that. Long story short, Simmons never does end up moving out of Grif's new home, but that guest bedroom ends up opening up all the same shortly after this tale wraps up, if you know what I mean. :D
Thank you so much for reading! :) Happy belated MerMay to everyone! :D
