TW: talk of controling behaviour, slavery and scars. plus somthing that could passs as an anxiety / panic attack.

The chapter counters gone up again: story isn't longer I've decied to split the big chapter into three . less dramtic but head space wise easier.

Meaning: "Aquaphibians?" Atlanta breathed.

"yes. Them. Did." Marina said, nodding and lowering her hands from her head. She paused for a moment, ringing her hands in her lap before continuing.

"They did titian did not. Titian did in way but not by his own hand. By his words. Understand Atlanta?"

"Titan had his men chain you up, you mean?" Atlanta asked. Her own voice was thick as chilli molasses and she could feel the tension snapping across her shoulder.

Marina nodded.

" king titian. Orders. Yes. Not do himself. Words. Or sometimes say but let them choose? ... Free reign." She said.

"Well ain't that just typical." Atlanta said. It came from the back of her throat, almost a growl. Much like her father's when he was in one of his moods. "What an absolute pig!" she continued. Or tried too. Anger got the better of her again before plummeting into sickeningly upset.

"yes." Marina agreed, her gaze unfocused, becoming detached from the whole thing. Not in a cool calm collected manner. More like if stingray slipped a mooring, drifting with its motor's still vibrating.

Tentatively she swivelled in the seat and looped her hands into the crook of Atlanta's elbow. Pulling her legs up again Marina curled in on herself once more, against Atlanta's arm. Marina seemed so exhausted just admitting that Atlanta, not a normally violent person, had to resist the urge to break or throw something. Instead she made do with rubbing circles on the back of Marina's hand. Marina seemed to take comfort in it at least.

"I'm sorry. That's just. Just…." Atlanta tried then, huffed focusing on something else.

"We need to find an actual sign for his guards. " she complained instead, repeating the gesture Marina had made. "that makes them look like angry bunny rabbits."

Marina spluttered and nodded in agreement with a tiny tug of her lips. A brief grin that flashed in all the darkness.

But it didn't stick around.

"not nice." She said.

"no, I guess it wasn't. Did they do that a lot then marina? Lock you up?" Atlanta asked, trying not to sound pitying.

Marina sighed. Closed her eyes and turned, pressing her head harder against the back of the seat. Atlanta couldn't see her expression but felt the two nods all the same. Atlanta squeezed her hand gently. Marina was quiet for a long moment before her grip slackened. Sitting up she continued talking in her mashed-up way of miming sign writing and pointing.

"room locked every night." she said, "not all time but yes. Every night at first. Wrists not so much ever. Only ankles a lot. His favourite. Easier. Chained in. Or chained up near him."

"oh no." Atlanta winced. Marina nodded with a shrug.

"just one ankle at a time, at least?" she replied.

Atlanta jumped at that, bumping the arm of the couch; as if a shock of cold water had tipped over her.

"at least?!" She squawked. "marina that's- that's still awful!"

Marina made to dismiss it, shrugging it off again. And couldn't. Not quite. She squirmed in her seat not meeting Atlanta's eye when she started again, sitting impossibly straight.

"I am fine now! Was. Not to. So. Swim. Away. No escape. Prisoner. Night. Or punishment. For anything. Titian found funny. Or his bad moods. Take out. On me. Or other. On others."

She was stuttering, Atlanta noticed. Marina's way of stuttering wasn't the easiest to cotton on to. But she'd make just one-word sentences, rushing them. And getting her other words in the wrong order even for ASL sentence structure. Fingerspell and written words were becoming more misspelt. Marina even fumbled, almost dropping cards in her attempt to get them out quicker.

"others. Double. If misbehaviour. All four once. Very very bad. Scared." Marina said. Tears started forming again in her eyes.

"Hate it. Always so scared. Dark. Days and days. Tides. But not so much as time went on."

Said tears then spilling as she carried on.

"Tides turned. Time. Year. I'd stopped. Try. Gave up." she said, now wiping the tears from her cheeks and chin between words.

"Hope. But hurt. Too late. Hurt. Broken. Weak. Traitor. Unclean. Hurt. Sorry-"

Marina suddenly stopped, and slumped over.

"Marina?"

"Sorry. Sorry. Talk too much." Marina pointed to herself, without irony. "Sorry."

"Don't- it's alright. We can stop if you're tired?" Atlanta said, but Marina shook her head.

"Not stop. Not tired type talk too much. Boring you. Sorry."

"no, you're not! And you're not too much. Don't ever think like that." Atlanta said, hoping to be soothing, understanding, and encouraging all at once. "I'm listening marina. It's alright. You're okay. "

Marina nodded, her feet back on the floor, elbows on knees, head in her hands with Atlanta's hands on her shoulders again. Atlanta could feel her friend's heartbeat hammer under the dress fabric and marina's chest rising and falling hard. As if she'd just completed a marathon, and marina, made for swimming, found running wasn't the easiest of earth activities.

Marina nodded again as she seemingly calmed herself. She shifted out from Atlanta's arm and sat back up, wiping away one last tear; looking very much more princess-like and regal, despite closing in on herself again self-consciously.

"Not alright. Trust you. But don't tell?"

"I promised." Atlanta reminded her. Marina nodded.

"Hurt. Yes. But Titan did not do. Orders. Not against code. Against peace. He could not be seen to hurt a prisoner. So, order. Another of his tricks (trick or treat, titan.) " Mariana explained her words carefully measured this time, even the written ones. She paused; then added bitterly, "Does what he likes anyway!"

Atlanta hmm'ed in agreement not trusting herself to speak. Marina looked to her and her face fell.

"Please. Worried again! Atlanta, don't be."

"I'm trying no to-!" Atlanta pointed out. Marina then took one of Atlanta's hands in both hers, and tried to work her hand loose to open the fist. Atlanta blinked. She hadn't even realised she'd balled her hands into firsts. Or been squeezing so tight her knuckles were white.

Atlanta exhaled through her nose again and forced herself to relax (even if she couldn't get her jaw too.); opening her hands. Marina glanced up at her, gave the same sarcastic "look, question" signs she'd given phones earlier and rubbed a thumb over the deep nail marks at Atlanta had pressed into her own palms, holding Atlanta's hand in both hers.

Calloused hands, Atlanta breathed. Soft as they were now, Atlanta could feel where the skin was still firmer than it 'should' be. She suddenly remembered how hard and how pink the mermaid's palms had been; the first time she'd given marina a piano lesson with her and Atlanta had positioned marina's fingers for the notes. At the time she hadn't thought much about it. She'd supposed it was just another 'sea' thing, much as Marina's muteness and flippers.

Marina, chained up most of the time, locked up every night, also had worked her hands to the bone, skiving and labouring for titian. And she was trying to sooth Atlanta's barely scratched hands?!

Atlanta had to really fight to squash and pent up another frustrated wave of rage and sadness that time.

"Marina-?"

"No. Now you're hurt too." Marina scolded with a poke in the side, avoiding Atlanta's gaze. "Stop it."

"But-?"

"Stop."

Marina took her other hand and repeated the same massage, trying to rub away the crescent imprints Atlanta's nails had left. Atlanta apologised. Then when marina was done, turned her hand and interlaced their fingers; unsure what else she could do or say to her friend. Marina stopped and nodded. She leant against her, their shoulders pressed together. They sat there silently, sisters in sorrow for a moment.

"Upset you. Sad. You. Okay?" Marina asked one-handedly.

"Hush, no it's alright. I got in my head again. I didn't mean to upset you either." Atlanta replied. Marina frowned but nodded, drawing her feet back up and curling into her again. They stayed like that for a few little minutes more.

Atlanta sighed. And accidentally glanced down. Marina's scars hadn't been forgotten. Much like it in the back of Atlanta's mind for the past three weeks; she could see that shackle brand stubbornly peeking out through the sheer fabric of Marina's skirts.

"May I?"

Marina tensed. But, after a hesitation, nodded.

"fine. Trust you." She repeated, although her face betrayed her anxiety.

Atlanta squeezed her hand once more then let go slip off the sofa and knelt, every movement slow and careful so as not to scare the mergirl. Again, Atlanta looked back up to double check Marina was as comfortable as she could be; before examining the scars at Marina's ankles. Including one that had started all the trouble between them in the first place…