"Aquaria Key." It was painfully obvious that, beneath the shallow shores of its title, there was a marketing ploy. Somewhere, there had to have been a real estate broker that was undoubtedly very pleased with himself for making a living off of the name of this island alone. If it had been given a more fitting label, it was doubtful that it would have attracted nearly as many interested buyers. But the name Aquaria elicited a mood calm and at peace, reminiscent of a waterfront postcard. It brought about the image of soft sand and crystal blue waters, with clear skies and radiant, picturesque sunsets in the evenings: a beach one could almost describe to be tropical.
As Kankri Vantas stepped out of the passenger side of the moving truck, these were not the sights that greeted him.
With his red converse finally on stationary, solid land, he took a deep breath, freckled nose twitching as it was assaulted with the foreign smell of pungent saltwater and seaweed. As the teen stretched, he could see the ocean and the clouded, overcast sky from where he stood, past the enclaves of sparse, swaying seagrass and cattails at the fringe of sandy soil. Just past the worn out house his family was now in front of—was that theirs?—and uneven dunes of sand, the grey tide crept slowly at the shore, pushing water up and rolling back down gently in rhythmic sequence. He listened to the harmony of the dull ambience of the waves as they crashed gently on the shore, and the occasional rush of fleeting winds that blew against his ears.
It was certainly an adjustment from apartment complexes and suburban sprawls, Kankri thought to himself.
"Kankri? Get your stuff, we're heading inside."
Kankri shook his head, zoning back to reality as the voice of someone summoned him to return.
"Oh, um, yeah- yes, right away." He replied to the call, turning his attention towards the seaside cottage. It was a rustic, wooden dwelling, one a simplistic design that Kankri could not help but feel underwhelmed by. It was compact, in the shape of a box, notably smaller than the seaside manors his family had passed on the way there. The gable roof of the house definitely required work done on it, but as his father similarly had told him, all of these faults simply gave it "character", even if Kankri considered such "character" to be slightly worrisome. It was not the luxurious picture that would come to mind when someone would typically think of a beach house, but it was perfectly snug and comfortable enough for the needs of the Vantas family.
"You coming, kids?" Kankri's father called from over his shoulder, addressing his two sons as he carried two bags of luggage towards the old house.
"I am, but Kan is being a slowpoke, so we might need another hour or two."
Kankri rolled his eyes.
"My apologies for, forbid me, bothering to take a moment of time to look around an unfamiliar location. He retorted, folding his arms with a huff.
Kankri could not remember a time in his life since his mother passed where his family had gone more than a couple of years without inevitably moving. It had become routine for them by now, his memories of past residences becoming blurred. With his father's work as an investigative journalist they were subject to pack up and relocate without much heads up. This gave the older teen inadequate time to make friends, and after a few unanticipated relocations, he eventually had given up.
"It shouldn't take that long to tell that this place sucks," Kankri's younger brother, Karkat, griped as he hopped from the back seat of the truck and slammed the door behind him. Without taking a pause to survey and adjust to the atmosphere like his older brother did, Karkat only let out a sigh and immediately turned around, headed toward the back of the U Haul truck to grab one of his bags.
Karkat looked much like his older brother. They had both inherited their mother's pale complexion and freckles, along with her curled, sunrise -colored locks. Despite their similar short stature, Karkat's build was stronger and bulkier than Kankri's softened frame, even evident at his youth. Karkat's eyes were dark brown like his father's, while Kankri had the pale cerulean eyes of his mother.
"Karkat," the older brother said sternly in a soft voice, "Mustn't we be appreciative of our new surroundings? Honestly, I wholeheartedly believe that a change in our typical scenery can be beneficial. Why, for instance, if you would, perhaps, change your perspective, you would be able to perceive that there is a plethora of new activities that we can engage ourselves in, now that we are closer to the sea."
Karkat groaned under his breath, yanking another one of his bags from the back of the trunk. Before Kankri could continue yet another lecture, an action of which Karkat regretted even setting off in the first place, the younger brother decided to slip away from his brother by walking away. "I'm not in the mood, Kankri," he grumbled quietly, trudging behind his father towards the house and leaving Kankri alone by the moving truck. "Just get your stupid stuff already."
"I understand that moving can be quite stressful, Karkat, but honestly..." Kankri mumbled, fidgeting with his coiffure against the humid gales from the shore, before following his family inside.
The worn out screen door let out a low, eerie creak before rattling in a slam as it met its wooden door frame. A pair of light footsteps thumped against the wooden porch before becoming suddenly muffled against the sandy earth.
Kankri had needed to get out of the house, growing fidgety in wake of the same process he had done too many times before. His father, thankfully, had said that they should take a brief break in their unpacking before dinner: something Kankri gladly agreed with, since the redhead did not particularly enjoy staying inside, surrounded by a mess of stuffy cardboard moving boxes. While the discovery of his environment had once been something of wonder, after so many rounds of periodic relocation, the excitement had faded.
A slight shiver ran down his spine as the cool evening wind tousled his hair and ruffled his warm clothes. Spring had began a little over a month ago, but this island appeared to have not quite caught up with the rest of the world yet on the agenda of weather. He crossed his arms over his favorite red sweater that he had specially chosen for this particular day, his most comfortable wear for warmth, as he gazed across the land at the expanse of grey beach. Surely, he had plenty of time to go for a walk before dinner.
Kankri made his way down the beach, giving brief glances to the vicinity around him as he went, but slowly became bored with the grey and dismal scenery. He tilted his head downward as he kept casually strolling toward the ocean, observing the quality of the sand beneath his red shoes. There were bits of rough, fossilized shells among the dusky sands, kneaded with pitiful strands of browned seaweed, all in a mess of washed up waste that this span of ocean had rejected. The optimism he had encouraged Karkat to adopt was losing its luster, but at the very least, the beach was far less restricting than the suburban backyards he had become acquainted with in the past. The sea, even in its present murky, underwhelming presence, was still the sea, and that was a thought that Kankri would welcome. This was home: for now, at least.
With his blue eyes following the margin of the coastline, Kankri found himself recognizing a new object along the oceanfront. From his position, there was a dock not far away. It had not been in Kankri's view from the front of the house, but he now saw that it was practically directly behind the wooden shelter. It was long, and evidently very old, with faded wood that seemed as though it had been there for as long as the house has, and blackened muck gathering at the bottom of its supports. He couldn't help but wonder if the platform was still stable, given its assumed age, but quickly found that his curiosity getting the better of him as captain inner inquisitive urges seemed to take the wheel of thought, pioneering him closer to the strip. Not that he would not have taken a peek eventually.
His breath hitched as he realized that the dock was damp with the spray of ocean water, his first step on it unsteady, but found some comfort in the sturdiness of the platform he ultimately found. Carefully treading forward, Kankri elevated his gaze from his feet to the water surrounding him, unexpectedly encountering an old motor boat bobbing at the end of the pier. Attached only by a frayed rope securing it to a wooden post, Kankri leaned over to find a discolored beige tarp covering its floor. The Vantases were no family of sailors, so Kankri wondered if it belonged to anyone, or if the previous owners had just left it in place as a surprise for the next buyer of the tract of land. Judging by its shabby condition, however, the "surprise" seemed to be more of a decoration for the dock, rather than a functional traveler of the sea. Was it still operational?
He kneeled over, trying to maintain his balance as he checked the contents of the boat. On top of the tarp was no more than puddles of muddy gunk, a sight Kankri was sure could be cured by a simple rinse of water. The white paint along the sides was losing its gloss, but it didn't resonate a complete sense of lost purpose, of abandonment. Perhaps it could be refurbished, after all, there was no major damage to the body of the ship. He would have to discuss it with his father.
After some time, his vision had gone fuzzy. It was but a trance, a stare full of thought but with nothing focused on, as he took in the abyss of clouded waters before him, beside the dock's edge, the fizzle of seafoam and its accompanying wave, and the cling of humidity that rested in the air. It was not until then, at the pinnacle of peace, that he noticed the uneasy drumming in the pit of his stomach, alerting him that something is off. A faint reverberate of advice for caution, the thought was realized as a vague sensation of being watched. He whipped his head around, scanning through the seaside vegetation and up and down the shore, in the boat and around the house and the little pathway that came from it to see if his father or younger brother had stepped outside by some chance. A feeling of dread pierced the young man's gut. It was not like Kankri to find a lack of an answer.
Without warning, the the relative silence was shattered by the sound of a loud splash coming from down the dock, which caused Kankri to reel his head the opposite direction quickly in an act of careful vigilance. A brief visual analysis of the area proved nothing of difference, but Kankri felt unsatisfied. He carefully repositioned himself upright and walked down the dock. The sounds rustle and sway of seagrass, the ripples and unrest of the ocean water, and the splash of waves as they pummeled against the wood below where he stood all felt amplified now, and it did nothing to undermine the sense of vulnerability that gnawed at Kankri's core.
Reaching the edge of the dock, he stared down into the murky ocean water, watching the seafoam splash weakly at the planks of wood belonging the lower part of the pier. As far as he could see, there was, honestly nothing worth straining over beneath the surface of the water.
Kankri sighed quietly to himself, feeling foolish with his over-analysis of nothing. In fact, the teenager almost felt silly, imagining himself at a state of unrest over the splash of some marine-dwelling organism's movement, or over a particularly strong wave crashing upon a boulder in the waters. If anything, he assumed, the sensation could have easily been from Karkat or his father watching his beachside waltz from inside the home. He wondered, had he spent too long outside? Perhaps he was late for supper, something Kankri did not want to receive a reprimanding for at all. Taking a deep breath, Kankri turned on his heels, feeling satisfied with his oceanfront expeditions for the evening.
What the boy was unaware of, however, was the puddle of muddy water that had slowly accumulated from the waves constantly dousing the dock with water being underneath his heel.
. He lost his balance just a bit, but that faint detail was the only factor that prevented him from successfully to plant his foot down on the surface of the pier, Kankri only managing to pull off a missed step in desperation. There were no handrails or guards for his safety, and useless clutches to the air lead to him toppling over and slipping in the water backwards into the ocean.
Kankri flailed his arms around in a frenzied attempt to get some kind of reaction, for some buoyancy, something, anything he believed that could save him. Screams were shushed to small yelps as he thrashed in the unforgiving waves of the sea. He felt salt water rush down his throat as he sunk below the waves, losing consciousness.
Thank you for reading! This was written with my good friend Krabkri, and we have a very interesting story planned.
Cover art by Karbkri.
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