Ggggggggfuckfucfuck
Desmond was flailing around helplessly in the water. He was pretty sure he was moving forward though, which was a plus he assumed. It felt like he was swimming with his legs tied together, but for some reason it was working. Also, he could breathe underwater.
Sure it wasn't a huge deal after the whole noticing the gills thing, but it was still weird.
He dared a glance back and saw through the distorted waves that the man was following him into the water.
Shit.
And, on top of that, he was gaining on him because of Desmond's poor swimming-with-a-tail skills and the mans obvious muscle. Well, if he couldn't beat him, maybe he could just wait him out. It's not like he can breathe in this too.
Desmond huffed, and aimed lower, swimming deeper and deeper into the now darker water. His dark brown eyes shut when the cold water hit him. Hey, no sun meant no reflection on his blatant target of a tail. Seriously the thing could be seen from a mile away in the sunlight, like some neon sign saying 'Look! It's a fucking MERMAN, right here!'
Once he almost hit the bottom, the only thing stopping him being his now cut hands, he floated still. Desmond's eyes now scanning the far away surface for anything. He saw… the man swimming back to shore. Oh fuck yes, that was close.
Getting involved with assassins that he didn't know was sure to be a messy thing, no doubt that the man would report to his master on what he saw.
Hah, nobody will believe him.
Desmond let out a small laugh, jumping at the weird muted sound it made in the water. Definitely not what he was used to, at the very least.
Well, now what? He was sufficiently cold to the bone, and kind of shaken after the chase. Not to mention hungry and tired to top it all off. He slowly made his way to a further point than the man went, and poked his eyes above water, reveling in the warm sun.
What was he going to do? Last time he checked he was supposed to be dead… Desmond huffed a sad sigh and slid his eyes shut. Was this was Juno had wanted? Was Rebecca and Shawn okay?
Was his dad okay?
All the while thinking about this, he swam to the shore. Whatever person that might see him, he needed to sit down. Right now he wanted gravity to be like he remembered and pretend that he knew what he was doing.
After scooting up onto the shore, he pulled his tail out and sat parallel to the shore. Desmonds tail reached to about the same length, if not longer, than his former legs. It was sleek and even had some smaller fins near his hips that he didn't notice before. It felt… scaly, like a fish, but bigger.
He shook it off in the sand to somewhat dry it and widened his eyes as they melted into….legs. Legs, his own, just like he remembered them being.
From what the now confused Desmond could take from this, he got his tail dry, and they turned into legs. Weird shit, but somewhat convenient. A grin spread across the Americans face.
"Freaking sweet" He said.
Now, to test the little fuckers.
He stood after a small bit of time, actually not that used to them after all of that swimming. Ahh, to stand, he missed it like his own mother. Okay maybe that wasn't a good thing to think about right now.
Now, to get food.
Desmond eyed his naked figure, and after some small time to decide, he agreed that he should probably find some food before he went up the nearby stairs. He saw… a cloth nearby. Eh, that would pass for now.
It went to his knees and hung loosely around his hips. A bit inappropriate for public areas, but it would suffice until he mugged some poor soul of their clothes as soon as he reached the top of the stairs.
Sure, people looked at him funny when he walked across the street and said various french things that Desmond couldn't understand, but it was alright. He couldn't help the blush that was spread across his cheeks when everyone stopped and stared, though. The reactions varied from somewhat unamused to oddly scandalous and down right pervy. 'It's not like it was anything to look at' he thought, swallowing roughly and making it into an alley.
Ah, there seemed to be a clothes line hung up in someones backyard, and a big one too. Desmond tried to be at least a little bit sneaky as he took a plain pair of pants and a shirt that looked to be his size, but it was pretty hard to do with a lady yelling at him right as he took them.
His big brown eyes widened at the angry french that she was yelling and he all but ripped on the clothes and booked it.
Oh fuck why did he even take it while she was looking, it was stupid as hell and now he had he yelling angry french words at him and-
And there was someone running after him.
He could tell by the amount of citizens now looking not at him but behind him, and the nice little footsteps trailing after him.
They were quiet, getting louder, but still too quiet to be a guard or a civilian. They were undoubtedly trained and just the thing that Desmond was not willing to deal with right now. He had no weapon, no idea where he was, and just not in the mood to deal with an assassin.
Desmond pushed himself to go faster and after seeing that he wouldn't hit anything, looked behind him.
Yep, definitely an assassin.
