I stood in the sea, only feeling the oddly dim cold of the waters around me. The waters never truly felt cold to a mer, but I couldn't tell if the spell was merely achieving the same effect. Would I get ill, standing here, and not know it? Would a bi-ped lose feeling the same way that the spell had for me?
It was only a few minutes of standing in the water before the onyx-eyed man pulled me out of the water. He was holding the little notebook, which had gotten scrappy and spotted in the events. But my eyes were clouded - by tears? By the curse of being a bi-ped?
We stumbled up to the dock, where I was finally able to read the note.
"We should get out of town, they'll be searching soon."
I only gave him a nod, and we stumbled away from the town. We walked across the beach, sand slogging between my toes and making me slower than my already slug's pace.
The town morphed into plains of green, and before long, I was looking over a vast field of gold. The sun was coming over the horizon, making the plants before us glow.
We hobbled into a shack, and he set himself down on piles of fabric. I bent down haphazardly and picked up the pad.
"What is this place? Why are we stopping here?"
He stretched up to take it, and waved me down. I slammed into the ground, a buzz of pain shooting through me, and watched him write.
"They use these scraps to keep the wheat warm, and to store it, but otherwise? Free house."
"Shouldn't we ask?"
"In this region, most people don't care about letting someone sleep in a place that isn't being used. If they have a problem with it, we'll leave, but the law protects us."
"That seems a little odd for a bi-ped law."
"This province was cultivated by poor people that escaped Kuindesh. Most other places saw trespassing is punishable, but not Weldue."
"The mer settle, but most don't have trouble putting up wanderers for the night either."
"Wanderers? Like nomads?"
"I suppose you could call them that. What's our next step?"
"To get a good sleep, and figure it out later." the onyx-eyed man yawned and gave me a wink to prove his point, then turned away and snuggled into the scraps of fabric. I turned away as well, and was glad that he couldn't hear me cry myself to sleep while the sun rose around us.
When we awoke I was glad to see that the afternoon sun hadn't woken my new companion. I stumbled to the ramshackle doorway, and squinted into the bright field around us. The golden-haired crop swayed in the breeze, and there was so much of it that I could see nothing else. How did humans look over fields of crops like this without being able to see them from above? Did they really have to walk the entire land that they were meant to harvest?
I must have forgotten to close the door, because soon he was standing next to me. We stood there for a while, until he grabbed my hand and pulled me away.
The gold reminded me of Atlantica.
We walked and walked, then came across a number of buildings. He pulled us into a dark, dank little building. There were seats and tables, and music playing from someone sitting in the corner. We slogged over to a person standing behind a covered table, and the man held out his writing.
"I'm sorry, I can't read." The man said to us with a smirk. It was a blatant lie, if not from his smile, then from the board behind him detailing different kinds of food. I took the message, and looked back up to the man.
"We would like two meals please. Anything you have on hand will do." I said, staring the clipped man in the eyes. If he wanted to refuse service, he would have to speak it. If he was smart, he'd give us a rotten meal.
"Very well then." he grumbled, and turned to a hallway, which must have been where the kitchen was. He came back with genuine meals, and slid them over to us. I followed the man over to a table, and sat across from him. I ate slowly, unsure what I was tasting and unsure how to move the food without the weight of the ocean.
Eventually, when both of us were done and we stacked the plates up for the owners out of petty kindness, we noticed how hard it was going to be for me to continue walking around in the cloak, no matter how much we tied it up. We walked into a tailors, and by then, I was aware enough of the custom to ask myself.
"Do you have anything to spare? I'm afraid bandits got to us while we were bathing and they took everything except my cloak." I smiled charmingly at the woman sweeping, and her jaw dropped.
"How long have you been walking around like that?" She whispered, guiding me to a side room clearly made for fittings.
"Only a single day. We've tried to tie it closed, but it doesn't work very well. I untied a portion from the inside, just to show her how we did it. She shook her head and tsked at me lightly.
"I have something, I'm sure. You will be traveling, yes?"
I nodded, and she gestured for me to sit before I left. She was only gone for a moment before coming back with a very interesting garment. It was a tunic made from scraps of linen, stitched together with beet-red and green thread. The thread wasn't properly washed after it was dyed, and the color had bled into the fabric around it's edges. It was a nice-looking garment, even if you realized that making it was clearly a practice for another piece. She handed me the tunic, along with a pair of pants. The top fit like a potato sack, obviously, but the woman handed me a strip of rough, long cut of rope, and I fumbled with it until it fit around my waist. Once it was secure I bowed deeply to her, and I was glad that I made her blush. Even if she didn't know I was a queen, the motion was quite formal.
"Thank you for the gift."
The black-eyed man and I continued on our walking, but I was surprised when the sun started to fall and we didn't stop. I tugged on his sleeve, and he smiled at me. He gestured with his hands before stopping bluntly, and looked at me expectantly. Then he chuckled, shaking his head. He pulled out the notepad, flipping through for a blank space, when I realized what he had been doing.
It was a language. And merpeople were exceedingly good with languages.
I stopped him before he had a chance to write anything, and pointed at a word on the page. Then, I touched his hands. He raised an eyebrow. I took the charcoal from him, scratching out the words 'show me'. Then, his eyebrows raised together with understanding rather than humor. He did a single movement with one hand, pointing to the word with his other.
We spent the rest of the night doing this, using a candle we took from a windowsill. Eventually, we got too tired to do it anymore, and he did one last movement while yawning. It was a combination of a couple others we went over in those two hours, and I copied it when I figured out what it meant.
"Goodnight."