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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years

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The Trieste Venture (End) - S Nami Bolg

In this entry, the MC sings a song that is commonly heard in Russia around Christmas time though it’s not necessarily a Christmas Song.

"We actually survived." Lu Mingfei gasped. "I thought several times that I should start chanting poems."

Chu Zihang was next to you, checking your blood pressure. You were still far too weak to participate in the conversation. Or even get annoyed at Mingfei again. All your strength reserves were completely exhausted. Caesar was strapped into his seat but still out cold.

So he prattled on. "I used to read a book and said that Japanese generals would recite a death poem when they died." He rolled his eyes up to the sky. "What is "Heaven" There must be light at the end, and the clouds and mists are scattered. There is only a bright moon in the heart. Forty-nine years of prosperity, a dream, a wine cup in the first phase of glory, and what else is there? When I wake up, I will go to sleep", he recited. "I thought that was particularly sensational."

　　"It wasn't that they started chanting just before they died," Chu Zihang said. "In fact, most Japanese military commanders have a mediocre level of education. They used to find someone who could write poetry to do it well, and they just chanted before they died. "

　　"That’s what I said. What if I only say 'Heroes forgive me, there are no poems left?’"

Chu Zihang let the air out of the blood pressure cuff and held up his blade. "I need to check your blood. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." You turn away but can help but flinch when the blade scores your skin.

What comes out is a mixture of crimson and inky black ooze. It seemed to be a fifty fifty ratio.

"Is it bad?"

"It's not good. If you use Blood Rage again there's no saving you. I'll have to kill you."

"Thanks."

Chu Zihang suddenly stared at you, unsure of what you're thanking him for. If he asked, you're not sure you could answer.

"I feel dizzy."

"We're low on oxygen… but also Something else survived," Chu Zihang said.

You looked at the screen, thousands of black shadows were floating up from the bottom of the sea at high speed, gathering together like black vortexes. The group of mermaid hybrids, the last group who escaped from Takamagahara, was exceptionally large; they were not affected by the nuclear explosion. A huge figure appeared in the black whirlpool formed by the mermaid group. Every time it swept the sea with its long tail, it was accompanied by countless undercurrents and countless whirlpools. The mermaids floated around it, because when the thing was swimming, an upward high-speed current was formed around it, just like fish schools like to migrate with giant whales sometimes. The fastest were already approaching the Trieste, and under the spotlight, their ice crystal-like tusks reflected dazzling light.

"Do you still want to chant poems now?" Chu Zihang asked.

"Like a hero!" Lu Mingfei sobbed.

The depth is about 3,000 meters, and when the inertia brought by the nuclear explosion shock wave is exhausted, they will have no way to accelerate.

Chu Zihang might be able to release Royal Fire again, but the submersible could not withstand the impact. The outer shell was making a frightening tearing sound, and the resin porthole was deforming at a speed visible to the naked eye. Royal Fire and the nuclear explosion shock wave caused irreversible damage to the shell of the deep submersible, so it would be nice if they could float to the surface in this way. The remaining hope is the safety rope. You're just waiting for Chisei's safety rope to pull.

"I seem to hear the sound of cracking eggs." Lu Mingfei whispered.

"This is our shell cracking." Chu Zihang said.

It did sound like the sound of an eggshell breaking, and the cracks slowly extended on the surface. The sound of metal tearing and curling was sickening, and it was followed by a "pop", and then the sound of fluid surging.

"It is leaking, but the water has not intruded into the cockpit." Chu Zihang said, "Trieste has a double metal shell, with light kerosene between the two layers. Now the shell is perforated and the kerosene is leaking."

"Hey Sumeru! Sumeru! Hurry! We need the support of a safety cable!" Chu Zihang yelled.

"They're not answering." You whisper. You're feeling sleepy. At any moment, your eyes will close and you won't open them again. Exhausted from the fight, Blood Rage and the serum, the lack of oxygen won't allow you to regain strength.

The Trieste stopped ascending, and now it was surrounded by a group of mermaids.

The behemoth floated in the observation window. It was a black dragon swinging its long tail in the sea. That was the thing that was struggling in the crack in the seabed just now. At the last moment it finally broke through the seabed and escaped. Its golden pupils are like giant candles, and its decayed body is draped with ancient armor. The armor is connected by layers of bronze chains. Between the bare ribs, swimming in the abdominal cavity, were a swarm of ghost tooth dragon vipers! It turns out that the body of this thing is the nest of the ghost tooth dragon viper. As if thousands of lights were lit at the same moment, the eyes of the sleeping fish all awoke. Endless numbers press to chew their way into the cockpit. The king of these mutants opens its mouth in a silent roar, and his teeth are as transparent as crystal.

To your oxygen starved brain, the lights of their eyes and the silvery flashing of scales and teeth become mixed with the dreamy memory of Christmas lights and falling snow. You suddenly feel warm inside and smile. It was irritating, but Racoon Boy is right. You really want to sing right now.

S Nami Bolg, ‘God is With Us’ was that old Christmas song, a triumphant challenge to opponents. The lyrics said that if they so much as dared come against them, they would be met with a resounding defeat. But it was easy for children to learn, because all they needed to know were the words “God is With Us” to sing along after every verse.

In your mind, as you sing the lyrics in the mix of a voice and a hoarse whisper, you can hear the voices of your friends, older and younger, singing with you as you stare into the eyes of the decayed dragon without a trace of fear. You can almost feel Renata standing beside you. She always had a sweet voice and you worked to match the way hers sounded in your mind. You imagine her glancing at you with her coquettish, mischievous manner. Your attempts to match hers weren’t a challenge but what was friendship without at least a little rivalry?

So your voice grows stronger with hers trembling in the soprano range.

“God is with us! Understand this, O nations, and submit yourselves! Hear this, even to the farthest bounds of the earth. For God is With us… God is with us…”

Chu Zihang sat back in his seat with a soft sigh. By the third lyric, he could mouth the words, God is with us, in Russian.

The dragon slowly opened its ribs as to though answer this challenge, and the ghost tooth dragon vipers leaped out of their nest. They pounced on the Trieste. It was like the sound of millions of silkworms chewing on mulberry leaves, violently biting. Outside, the portholes are densely packed with the golden eyes of the fish and the teeth marks on the plexiglass are growing deeper. There were terrible sounds in all directions. The fish were not only biting the plexiglass, but also drilling holes in the metal bulkhead. Thousands of them are now swimming between the outer shell and the inner shell. These fish that can chew through anything, are eating the fiber optic cables and the insulation as though it were food.

The lights on the control consoles went out. The water pressure meter and the ampere meter swung to zero.

The last layer to protect them was the metal inner shell.

Chu Zihang reached out his hand to you and it closed around your fingers. “It was nice meeting you.” He said.

“Same.” You replied.

You turn to Lu Mingfei who took your other hand. “I’m also… very happy.” His voice was choked. “I’m sure… the Boss would say something heroic but… I’m sure he’s happy he met you too.”

You let out a breath. “It’s weird… I’m saying good-bye ag-...”

You never finish that sentence. The porthole collapsed and the sea filled the cockpit like a sledgehammer, breaking the supports holding your seat to the deck and then tearing you out of the seatbelts themselves. You’re violently sucked out of the cockpit and into the swirling ocean with nothing to protect you from the frigid water or the debris. Things are striking you and you’re filled with fear, but your eyes are squeezed tightly shut.

You feel a sudden burst of heat and the debris striking you is blown away. Royal Fire? You open your eyes but you can’t see anything but blue ocean and a bit of shining light. Your mind, finally starved completely, mercifully shuts down before you can even start to drown.

#Dragon Raja

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insane-control-room · 4 years

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The Sketch

Chapter Five, Segment Three

Full Chapter on Ao3 here

Previous - Next

Oh really?

“Yes, really,” Johan snarled, gripping his side where the pain seemed to be the worst, yet the pain was everywhere entirely. “I will get back up, and you can’t stop me. Y-you are not going to win. Not now, not ever.”

Johan was thrown up into the air, and he did not come back down, instead he scrambled in the air to get to the trellis, and he slammed against the wall. The thorns and vines pricked his skin, digging into his hands and body where his flesh hit, biting and clawing into him. He gasped, but gripped back, and pulled himself up, slowly, steadily, ignoring the scratches and tears.

Keep… going….

With a sharp, stabbing pain to his wrist, he lost control of his right hand, and he found himself being jolted back, and slipped several feet down. The ground below and the two tombstones wavered and wobbled in his terror stricken vision. He panted as his left arm ached, but his right hand remained stubbornly paralyzed by his side. Joey tried to catch his breath, and failed to. The air simply eluded him, seeping from his lungs far too quickly, entering far too slow. His grip slipped, and his side was given new thorny scratches. He whimpered, but began making his way up again, ripping his back, his heels jabbing each backwards upward step against the wall.

He collapsed onto the roof, gripping his frozen right hand, tremblingly lifting it to his eyes to inspect it. Ink soaked through his clothes, his breathing panting, panting, gasping, panting. His body felt wet, violated, sickly and torn. What was wrong with him?

Patient zero….

The words were sing song and calling, like one would call to a naughty child hiding in a cabinet to avoid the freightening switch.

Ah, there you are! Come along, dear little Joey Drew.

Johan’s knees buckled, and he fell forward, the empty feeling in his arm having spread to his legs, and he rose again without his volition. His already panicked breathing sped up even more, his body was not under his control, his body was being puppeted, his body was being hijacked from what little he had left.

You’re mine.

He screamed, trying to hold himself back, causing his body to stumble. His left hand slammed into his side, hitting himself as hard as he could, forcing his weak frame to fold, and then he jabbed his thumb into the back of his knee, and fell to his chest.

“Let me go,” he wheezed, trembling, curling up. “I… I’m my own person. Let me go.”

“You belong to me,” the ink machine sighed, Joey able to hear the sadistic tones in his not - made - creation, and he could tell it was merely toying with him. A breath of wind tousled Joey’s hair, and he knew it was the machine. “So useful, so smart… such a pity you kept yourself useless and blind to see what was right in front of you the whole time….”

Pipes snaked around his arms, yanking him forward. He did not resist anymore, the fight drained out of him ever so slowly. His feet dragged on the wooden ground, and he was pulled back within the building. The whispering grew louder.

“I do wish I could chat, dear,” ink swelled by his feet, the rushing pipe’s whispers inevitably draining away at his mind. “But I have far more… fun things in mind.”

“You’re sick,” Johan rasped, the air in his lungs stale and dead. Laugher and giggles and chuckles and guffaws ricocheted around him, driving into his mind, tearing at his thoughts. The scar on his side flared with pain, ink seeping through to stain his once white shirt once more. L i a r. The ink machine chuckled, and a pipe snaked around Johan’s throat, lifting his head and squeezing his windpipe, cutting off the panicked breathing. “Joey Drew, you’re the one who is sick, not me. I am perfect, I am perfection.”

Johan groaned in pain, at least as much as he could with his breathing so tightly restricted, and the tightness growing. Tears dripped from his eyes, mouth open and gaping like a fish out of water, squirming and wriggling fretfully on the hook ensnaring it. The pipe around his throat rose him into the air, and the pressure worsened, his hands tugging at their bonds to try to alleviate the crushing pain. He felt as though his head might just tear off, and he could feel blood dripping from the scar on his neck, the newer skin rending with the will of the Machine.

He sobbed, the sound cut short by the lack of airflow. Then the coughing started, his lungs heaving with the need for air, the need to clear his system, the agony growing unbearable.

So fascinating.

His body was twisted this way and that, his organic muscles and calcium bones prodded at and examined from the ink within his body, the nerves and tendons touched and nipped.

So human, and yet, such a monster.

Ink black darkness whirled in his sight, smashing and swirling together what little he could see. He still struggled and fought, but he had nothing to fight with, nothing to hit or shove or strive with, nothing in his grasp at all.

Unless…

Johan’s tired eyes fell to the pipes gripping his arms. They were neither at his elbow nor at his wrist, somewhere right in between. With a twist and grunt, he managed to get his left hand over his head, the pipe rubbing against the one on his neck, pushing it up, but giving him more room to breathe nonetheless, he gasping in the air gratefully, cool honey tea in the middle of a dry hot desert, a brief but wonderful respite. With more strength and slightly less effort, he managed to get his right arm moved over his head as well, getting both of the pipes around the one on his neck, each end holding onto the thickest with a tight strength.

Joey tucked in his chin, forcing the pipe onto his mouth, and braced himself for the hard part. With a swift yank, he pulled both arms above his head, screaming slightly as the tight pipe around his head tore off, ripping some of his hair, giving himself a nosebleed, and knocking his glasses askew.

And yet, he was almost free!

So close!

Oh dear, it seems you got your collar off!

Johan growled at the pipes trying to get to him, biting and snapping and writhing and fighting.

No way in hell would he give up.

Not to that thing.

His body flickered, oozed, and he slipped out of the grasp of the pipes trying to restrain him.

Gasping and grasping at his throat with his now free hands, the relief that crashed over him was larger than all the waters of the deep, warmer and more healing than the full force and heat of the bright sun.

Come back here, you pesky little bastard!

“I may be a son of a bitch, but I am no bastard,” Johan growled, straightening his back and fixing his tie. “And I will not kneel to the likes of you, you mangy,”

No.

“Disgraceful,”

Close your filthy mouth.

“Unfinished,”

I will tear you apart piece by miserable piece.

“Clunky,”

Be quiet!

“Sniveling,”

How DARE you?!

“IMPERFECT SELF CENTERED HUNK OF SCRAP METAL!”

Suddenly, the pain in Johan’s side flared up, stronger than before.

You’re a liar.

Joey’s hand clutched his scar, gasping and sending him curling into a tight ball, the pain bobbing through his thin and weary frame, making him feel rather like a kitten thrown into the sea with its tiny claws deep in a small stick of driftwood, the only thing around for miles and miles and eras and eras.

You might think you know me, Creator, the final word was spat out, cursing and haughty, smug, and Johan could practically see the machine, his machine, waltzing toward him. A hand made of a pipe grabbed him under his chin, forcing him to look up at the immense and sublime machine. Yet at the same time, I know you….

All your flaws, the burning pain of the scar on his hip spread to all his other scars, his hands sliced into with so many cutting blades, glass in his head, butcher knife in his shoulder, bullet in his arm, a blaze of four hundred fourteen fires on his back, there is nothing on his back, and he could do naught but scream a wordless prayer and cry out with hot frustrated and agonized tears as he writhed. And how many, so very many flaws there are….

I can see all your insecurities, those whispers were so insidious, yet so inviting. Johan, in all his pain, almost wanted to give himself up to those words. The torture abated with those soothing croons. I can free you of all of them….

Just give in.

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purrincess-chat · 6 years

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MariChat May: A Merman’s Heart CH1

It’s MariChat May! With a twist! I decided to do things a little differently this time, so here is a merman au ft. Mer!Chat. Hopefully you all enjoy what I have in store for MeriChat May ;) I’ve selected 6 prompts to do for this fic, then I have two requests and one prompt that I’m going to use to continue another fic that everyone has been asking for a continuation of, so stay tuned! May is gonna be a wild ride for me, you guys.

Read on AO3

Chapter One

The night air was calm and quiet, a gentle sea breeze wafting the scent of salt against Marinette’s cheeks as she strolled along the shore. White waves washed around her feet as the tide rushed in, and she giggled as a small crab struggled to right itself after being pushed around. She stooped to flip it back over, watching as it scurried away the moment its feet touched the sand.

Everything was peaceful, and she lingered for a few moments, enjoying the soft melody of the ocean with closed eyes. Ever since she got her own little cottage by the shore, she often took walks on her way home from work. Their town wasn’t nearly as big as the surrounding cities, but the clothes shop she worked for drew quite a bit of business. It was tiring work, but she enjoyed it. Besides, calm nights like this served to relax her after a long day. She’d always found peace in the water which is why she chose a house on the outskirts of town just to be closer to it.

The people in the village were very superstitious and had warned her against it for fear of mermaids who would lure her out to her death, but those were just old wives tales told to children. There was no such thing as man-eating creatures from the sea. The idea was simply preposterous.

Or so that’s what she’d always thought, but the stars had a funny way of proving her wrong, she’d found.

Nearing the end of her walk, she spotted something strewn across the rocks at the base of the cliff. Squinting to make it out, she realized that it was not a something but a someone, and in an instant, she took off toward them.

“Excuse me?” She called, climbing haphazardly across the jagged stones. “Are you al…right?”

Her eyes widened as they scanned over black scales and flaccid fins sprawled across a rock as the creature struggled to breathe. Moonlight reflected off the wet sheen on its side, and even in the dark she could tell what it was. Blood. Every instinct in her body told her to run, but the face was so…human that she couldn’t bear to just leave it to die. Something about the rapid heaving of its chest as ragged gasps escaped its lips stirred up a sort of empathy in her chest that wouldn’t allow her to turn the other way.

In hind sight, dragging a mer-creature to her home in a burlap sack should have seemed like a horrible idea, but nevertheless it’s where she was in the moment. If the townspeople found out about him they’d surely kill it and throw her in an asylum, but the empathetic heart beating in her chest couldn’t let an innocent creature die.

Of course, if the stories were to be believed then this creature had probably murdered dozens of innocent people for its own satiation, and for a brief moment, she paused her efforts and stared down at the creature curiously. Would it be better to let it die? Would more lives be saved by allowing nature to take its course? Allow one to die in order to save the multitude as it were, but almost as quickly as the thought came, she dismissed it, shaking her head as if to sift the thought from her brain like writing in the sand. She had no way of knowing for sure, and perhaps helping would earn her some good karma points with the merpeople, who, despite her earlier doubts, seemed to be very real.

Marinette kicked the door open to her cottage, dragging the creature along with labored grunts until she finally reached the bathroom and stopped to catch her breath. She collapsed onto the side of the tub, flicking on the water before taking a closer look at what she’d brought home.

He, she figured it was a he anyway, was rather handsome for a fish-creature with chiseled cheek bones and a mop of blond hair tied back into a messy pony tail. He looked so normal, but once her eyes moved downward from the face there was no denying that he was anything but. From the waist up, he seemed more or less human minus the few scales trailing up his sides and garnishing his hands where pointed claws topped each finger. And the gills desperately heaving against his rib cage, she supposed, but a scaly black tail replaced legs on his lower half which served to remind her to be extra cautious when handling him. This creature was no human, and if legend was any indication of reality, he was dangerous.

Shaking her head to clear it, she awkwardly hoisted him up into the tub, thankful for her many years of lifting flour sacks at her parent’s bakery for her strength. She was surprised that he never awoke through all of her handling, and she had to wonder just how much blood he’d lost. The burlap she’d carried him in was splotched bright red where his side had touched, and the water in the tub was already turning too.

Cupping her hands, she splashed clean water over the wound to clean it, but the bleeding was too persistent. She rummaged through her cabinets for medical supplies, retrieving some antiseptic mist that she purchased from the local pharmacy as well as several wads of gauze. Gritting her teeth, she held the bottle out at arm’s length before releasing a swift spray directly onto the wound. The creature cried out in agony, eyes snapping wide open and wild green sclera training on her in an instant. It bared its fangs with a loud hiss that sent Marinette scurrying out the door in a hurry.

As she leaned her back against the door and clutched her chest where her heart hammered frantically, she heard more guttural growls and hissing from the other side, and instantly, she regretted ever bringing such a creature into her home. What had she been thinking? All of the stories must have come from somewhere, and now she had brought a man-eating monster into her home. She should alert the police, but she supposed then she’d have to explain how the creature got into her bathtub in the first place. Perhaps she could wait for it to die, but that may take too long. By then it could crawl out of the tub and eat her and regain its energy. Maybe she should go spend the night with her parents and pray that it dies overnight from blood loss or starvation.

Almost as soon as it had begun, the noise in the bathroom stopped, and Marinette eyed the knob with a conflicted crease to her brow. Did she dare peek inside? What if it was just luring her into a false sense of security, and the moment she opened the door it leapt out and ripped out her throat? Though, judging by the amount of blood smeared on her floor, she’d be willing to bet that the creature didn’t have much energy for leaping. Perhaps if she were cautious enough, she could reason with it? Were mer-creatures reasonable? She supposed there was no time like the present to find out.

With a few deep breaths, she slowly twisted the knob once more and cracked the door just enough to peer inside. The creature was still in the tub, its head leaned back against the wall, and she could make out the persistent rise and fall of its chest with each shallow gasp. When it tried to move, a pained groan echoed against the walls, and it trained its eyes on the tiny crack in the door causing Marinette to jump a little as she felt them baring into her.

“I will help you, but only if you promise not to attack me,” She said shakily sounding anything but the confident and firm she was going for. Could mer-creatures even understand humans?

After a few beats of shallow breaths came a reply, “You have my word.”

Pushing the door open cautiously, she poked her head in to see the creature adorned with a pleading expression as he cupped his side, and her heart lurched in her chest. With a renewed purpose, she crouched next to the tub, and he reluctantly moved his hands. She felt her pits sweat a little as he watched her every move intently, fearing that at any moment he’d snap, but to her surprise he stayed surprisingly still.

“I’m going to spray some more of this on you, okay? It’s going to prevent it from getting infected,” She explained, holding up the bottle of antiseptic. “It’s going to sting a little.”

When the mist made contact, he writhed in pain, baring his fangs once more and clutching the edge of the tub, and Marinette flinched back instinctively with a grimace.

“You torturous wench!” He cried.

“Sorry!” She gasped, fumbling with her supplies with shaking hands until she found a sealing balm. “I-I promise this one won’t hurt.”

His eyes narrowed as she clumsily unscrewed the lid and scooped some out with her fingers, and a snarl rippled up from his throat as she began to apply it but soon replaced with a relieved sigh. She reached for the gauze and pressed a wad against the wound, applying firm pressure with one hand while grabbing a bandage wrap with the other. She met his glare anxiously, swallowing back a lump in her throat before she spoke.

“Um, I’m going to wrap it up now, can you hold this in place?” His eyes flicked down to his side, and slowly, he moved to slip his hands under hers and resume pressure while she wrapped.

“Why are you helping me?” He asked as she tied it off and rinsed her hands under the faucet. “I thought all humans loathed us.”

“I dunno,” She admitted with a shrug, wetting a cloth with a few spritzes of antiseptic and delicately dabbing it over his other wounds. “I just…saw someone who needed help, and it didn’t feel right to leave you there. Even if you could easily kill me if you wanted.”

“That I could, little lady,” He said with a grunt, a smirk curling on his lips. “So what’s to assure you that I don’t eat you in the middle of the night?”

“Well, given your current condition and lack of legs, and granted that I am a light sleeper, I could hear you coming long before you could ever reach me in bed. I’d have more than enough time to escape, and something tells me my legs can move much faster on land than your tail,” She said matter-of-factly, and he rewarded her with a conceding cock of the brow. “Besides, it’s poor manners to hurt the person who saved your life.”

He grumbled something under his breath that Marinette took as an expression of gratitude. After applying more balm over his injuries, she plugged up the tub and allowed it to fill up over his tail, stopping it just shy of his side wound so as to not wash away the medicine. Tucking away her medical supplies, she stole a quick glance at him to find those thin-slits of eyes staring at her curiously.

“Um,” She cleared her throat. “You should stay here tonight and give the medicine a chance to work on your wound. I’ll take you back down to shore as soon as you are healed, alright?”

“Alright.” He gave a short nod, following her every movement as she stood up and walked to the door stiffly.

“Good night, merperson,” She said, pressing her lips into a firm line.

“Good night, human girl.”

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain-cheng #chat noir #marichat #marichat may 2018 #my writing #a merman's heart #merman au

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arukou-arukou · 7 years

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I missed Tony’s birthday, but I wanted to do something for Mer-May while I still had a chance, so here you go. New snippet of “Scaled.” (Prev. chapters) This is un-betaed, so forgive all the typos. I’ll go back and grab them when I put this on AO3.

Warnings: Sea creatures and Steve eating fish raw, awkward discussions of bowel movements, near panic attack

Steve has no concept of how far they go, no idea how quickly the whale swims. His body is still weak from lack of nutrition, and after the first hour or so, it takes most of his concentration just to keep hold on the nubby dorsal fin. Tony keeps an easy pace aside them, and at times seems like he could easily outpace the whale if he wished. It’s the difference, Steve thinks, between a sedate grandmother and her children’s children.

Around them the ocean begins to grow dark, and on the surface, Steve can just tell that the sun’s rays have grown long. He cannot hold on any longer. The moment he thinks it, Tony is at his side, hands delicate as they guide him up into the whale’s wake and gradually slow him to a halt. The she-whale sings to them, her song rising haunting, all-encompassing.

Just a moment, Tony says, patting Steve’s shaking arms. If you would just stay right here? Then he breaks away, swimming out to the beast circling them. Through his haze of exhaustion, Steve tries to pay attention.

Tony is patting the whale’s flanks, a tiny bright flash of red and gold against the whale’s dark flank and the gloomening sea. Suddenly something fills Steve’s vision, a blinding electric blue like lightning. It briefly arcs out around Tony, then dances over the skin of the whale. In the afterglow, Steve can see detritus falling from the whale’s flesh. Tiny black and gray flecks make their way down into the deep, beyond where Steve can see.

The whale sings and clicks in turns, her song somehow joyous, and then she puts her back to them, flipping her tail almost coquettishly. Tony hovers a moment, a lonely figure in the ocean, before turning and swimming back to Steve.

Come on. We’ll find someplace for you to rest. He puts his arm around Steve’s shoulders and leads them down. It is almost panic inducing, the way the weight of the ocean presses in, down, all around him. His ears begin to ache, and then his chest.

“Wait!” he says, fighting the urge to hyperventilate. “Wait!”

Tony freezes and begins running his claws delicately over Steve’s body. Tell me what’s wrong.

“Ears. Chest. Humans don’t…this deep. Too deep.”

In the steadily growing dark, Tony’s eyes are eerie, reflective and green like cat’s eyes. The bauble on his chest shines brighter as night falls, catching the depths of the opalescent pupils and making his eyes glow. He looks otherworldly, almost ghoulish, and in the back of Steve’s mind, he wonders if he isn’t being pulled to Hell by a demon after all.

Face contorted in thought, Tony prods at Steve’s chest, then leans closer to inspect his ears. You, he says slowly, his hands flashing in the darkness, you can’t regulate your density.

“I can’t what?”

Tony’s grin is rabbit-fast and wry. It doesn’t matter. I have another plan. I wasn’t sure how long my spell might last, so maybe it’s for the best.

Panic swamps Steve all over again. “Do you mean to say the spell that’s letting me breathe might wear off at any moment?”

I can’t be sure. You’re not like us. By the time it wears off on hatchlings, they’ve already found their gills. They don’t need it anymore. Do you have gills? Perhaps we’re safe.

“I have lungs, like any other human. Like your whale friend there.”

The look in Tony’s eyes is incredulous at best, but after a long moment in which they both hang weightlessly in the darkness, he shrugs and begins swimming again, gradually urging Steve back up. The pressure eases, and Steve’s panic recedes. On the whale’s back, he hadn’t had energy to contemplate what the merman’s spells have done to his body, but now, clinging to Tony, doing almost none of the work of swimming or holding on, he is forced to wonder. Perhaps the spell has given him gills. Perhaps if he peels his coat and shirt off, he’ll find red slits along his lungs just like Tony’s.

Silly, Rogers, he tells himself, shaking his head. This is just the exhaustion speaking.

To take his mind from his thoughts, Steve peers out into the darkness and tries to discern anything. The whale had swum them through shoals and blooms, silver flashes of fish that undulated and gyrated like flocks of birds, pink clouds of krill that billowed like smoke. In the absolute darkness of night, however, Steve can see nothing at all. If Tony’s jewel were not illuminating the deep, Steve would be in utter blackness, and he shudders at the thought. Tony, as though sensing his unease, tightens his arm comfortingly.

Just a little farther.

Steve nods and drifts, timing his breathing to the powerful strokes of Tony’s tail. When he least expects it, something looms in front of them, blacker even than the black sea. Steve gasps and startles, but Tony shushes him, his mind projecting images of safety and calm. We’re here.

“What is this place?”

A mountain. It has caves and warrens. Safe places where we can take shelter so you can rest.

“A mountain?” Steve is flabbergasted. He’d like to think that if there’s a mountain right in the middle of the Atlantic trade routes, ships would’ve found it, but perhaps not. After all, before the past few days, he never would’ve believed in merpeople either. “Does it breach the surface?” he asks, feeling foolish for even voicing his doubt.

Tony laughs and shakes his head, tugging Steve closer to the jagged black rock. No, no. It’s not nearly tall enough for that. We’re still at least one hundred tails below the surface.

Steve hasn’t the slightest clue how long a “tail” is, but now that they’ve slowed, his exhaustion is becoming overwhelming, and he can’t seem to find the energy to ask. Instead he lets Tony lead him around the side of the mountain until they come to an oddly circular opening, the shape so regular it looks man-made rather than natural. Tony guides him in, and by the light of the jewel, oddly ridged rock appears and disappears in ill-omened shadows. It looks almost as though something bore into the side of the mountain to make this place.

At last they reach a chamber, roughly the same size as his captain’s quarters, and Steve is surprised to find what look like furnishings here. Tony releases him and swims to a small cone of coral, bowing over it. When he pulls away again, there’s another cloudy jewel, adding to the light in Tony’s chest. One by one, Tony lights his baubles and the room becomes clearer, though the light is cool and bluish-white. Steve can’t even begin to guess how most of the furnishings function. The lamps are obvious, but there are strange straps hanging from the ceiling, shelves housing all manner of strange tools, something on the far wall that looks like it might almost be art, bizarre rubbery formations on the floor.

He looks at it all, dumbfounded, unsure what he should do.

You must be hungry, Tony says, looking anxious and eager. I’ll go catch us some dinner and be back in a flash. Please make yourself at home.

Just like that he’s gone, and Steve is left floating in a ghost world. In his wildest dreams, he would’ve never imagined something like this. At a loss, he lets his body slowly sink to the cold stone floor. He doesn’t even know where the bathroom is, but he wishes he did because for the first time in ages he feels the need to relieve himself. He supposes one function is easy enough, but the other? No matter. He dares not touch anything until Tony returns. Staring up at the clouded orb directly in front of him, Steve allows it to hypnotize him, to draw him into an easy lassitude. His eyes slip closed once, twice.

The next thing he knows, Tony is hovering above him, shaking him. Steve? Steve!

“I’m up, I’m up,” he mutters. And then, “Where’s your chamber pot?”

Chamber pot?

“I need to…uh, relieve myself? Do you have outside facilities? An outhouse?”

Ah! You mean waste? That…you can’t just…?

Steve feels a flush creeping up his cheeks. He never thought he’d find himself discussing his bowel movements with a merman, and frankly, he wishes it weren’t necessary at all. “No. No I can’t. There’s more to it.”

Oh. Well, then I’d ask that you do it at the cave entrance. Off to the deep, if you catch my drift.

Steve nods and accepts the jewel-torch that Tony hands him. He swims tiredly back to the cave entrance to do his business and then returns, accepting the fish that Tony hands him. There’s nothing for it but to eat in the manner of his host, tearing at flesh with his teeth, and perhaps he would be mortified under normal circumstances, but he’s too tired to care. Once he’s eaten all he can, he allows Tony to take the offal, presumably for disposal, and collapses back onto the floor. He’s nearly asleep when Tony wakes him again.

It can’t be comfortable down there. At least take a nest.

“Nest?”

The strange hanging straps, it turns out. They, too, feel rubbery to Steve’s hands, but when Tony shows him, they unfurl into strange gossamer things, not unlike hammocks. Tony wraps the whole contraption once around his tail before tugging the edges over his chest up to his neck. Steve simply cocoons himself in from toe to neck, marveling at the way the material seems to stick to itself.

Comfortable? Tony asks. Their “nests” hang side-by-side and Tony is positioned so that his head is opposite Steve’s. He looks sleepy, but still eager as he speaks, his tail twitching agitatedly.

“Very.” Which is mostly true. He’s still floating oddly in the water, weightless and off-kilter, but the cocoon is warm—warmer than the ocean, which is another thing he’s been trying not to think about. The Atlantic should’ve sapped his heat by now, frozen him where he swam, but it feels fine. Pleasant even. He shakes his head and focuses on Tony again. “Thank you. For rescuing me. I…you didn’t have to do that.”

Tony smiles at him, his eyes luminous, his face strangely handsome, even in the eerie light of the cave. I’m glad I did. I can’t wait to ask you all about metal. About everything, really.

“But it can wait until morning?”

It can. Sleep, Steve. And Steve does.

#fanfiction #mer!tony #steve/tony #stony #writing

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licencedtoretire · 5 years

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It seems like a lifetime ago that we last managed to get away in the motorhome when in reality it’s only been a couple of months. We decided that we would leave the camp grounds to the holidaymakers during the height of summer and then I was called in early January for what I thought would be a small surgical procedure to obtain a biopsy only to banned from driving for 4 weeks to give the wounds time to heal. You can read the story of this in my previous post.

During this enforced time off Sarah kept herself busy with some interior decorating while my only meaningful contribution was cleaning the brushes at the end of each coat. Really struggling with pain from where they had cut, poked and prodded and then getting an infection in one of the wounds. I found it difficult to maintain my usual positive attitude. I would never have thought that this loss of mobility would have such a profound effect on my mental wellbeing.

Finally four weeks had rolled past meaning I could “safely” get behind the wheel, time to head off and enjoy the motorhome. I have always been a confident driver, when we had the car rental business it would be nothing to drive from Auckland to Napier and back in a day to assist with a breakdown. This time however it was different with Sarah suggesting the first stop close to Auckland my body also told me this was the most sensible decision.

We decided to make the first stop at Wenderholm one of the many parks that are part of the Auckland Regional park network. We had visited here last year but not stayed in fact this would be our first night in the motorhome in one of the Auckland regional parks. There are two areas set aside for camping with the main carpark suitable for CSC vehicles @$16 for the night, it is however limited to a one night stay. The second area is the official campground it’s set back inside the park (more about this later)

A lot of the camping areas at the regional parks are limited to motorhomes under 7 or 8 metres in length, thankfully there are no restrictions at Wenderholm although the number of places you could fit with a motorhome larger than 8 metres is very limited and on the weekend it could be almost impossible to find somewhere until the carpark starts to empty out at the end of the day. For us though a Monday brought an almost empty car park and our choice of spaces.

Wenderholm was the first regional park to be opened back in the 1960’s as part of some terrific forward thinking on behalf of the then Council. It’s a beautiful beach that offers safe swimming where you can walk into the water without it getting to deep for a decent way. It was impossible to resist the first swim of 2019 with the water just a perfect temp.

The NZMCA App has lots of comments on how hard it is to make a booking at these sites with comments about hours on the phone. I didn’t find it that hard logging into the council website meant setting up a new account which didn’t take that long and from there it was a fairly straightforward process to create a booking for the night in the CSC area and then pay online.

With the park gates closing at 9pm the carpark slowly emptied out as the time drew nearer and when we got up the following morning we were one of only three vans that had spent the night in the carpark. I must say that it was so quiet and peaceful making the first night back in the motorhome a very welcoming experience.

I have lost so much fitness during the past few weeks, probably not helped by a partially collapsed lung during the procedure so knowing that I needed to do something about getting fit again when Sarah suggested a walk I found myself in agreement. There are a number of walks around the park with maps available at the kiosk showing the various routes.

Sarah wanted to walk to the lookout which as you can see from the above photo is located high in the hills overlooking the beach. This of course meant that we had to climb the hill to get to the lookout.

There never seems to be hill walk anywhere in the country without endless flights of stairs to be climbed and whilst this is probably easier than trying to walk up a steep muddy track I can really feel it in my knees with each step. Having said that it probably would haven’t been nearly so hard if I hadn’t been so unfit. Much huffing and puffing with numerous stops for a breather. Sarah suggested taking a photo of me but I declined not wanting the hot sweaty mess on display in the blog. Anyway we made it to the top.

At the top of the hill we had two choices follow the path along the ridge and then head back to the camp or continue to follow the perimeter track downwards to Kororu Bay located on the estuary opposite Wairewa. The track heads downhill steeply making us very glad that we walked up the way we did although rather nervous about the return journey.

The bay wasn’t really the sort of place to go for a swim (in fact it’s prohibited) but it was good to sit down and rest for a few minutes. Following the perimeter track onwards we came across this Kereru just sitting there maybe 2 metres from the track. A bit further on the track separated either heading back uphill towards the Couldrey house track or continuing around the outside of the park.

Sarah looked at the map and decided that the Couldrey track looked shorter overall so despite my protestations that this appeared to be more uphill this was to be the chosen route. As the hill went on what seemed to be a never ending path upwards it was here that I found my lack of fitness really beginning to tell lagging further and further behind Sarah. When I did manage to drag my weary body over the crest of the hill the views made the slog up the hill worthwhile and of course it’s all downhill from here.

Returning to the motorhome we had timed it perfectly for a swim with high tide almost upon us. As I mentioned earlier this is a very safe beach for swimming but on this day there was a decent swell rolling into the beach which had we had boggie boards would have created a great deal of fun.

We decided that we were enjoying our stay so much that we would spend another night here. Sadly there is a limit of one night at the carpark for CSC vehicles and this would mean moving down to the Schischka Campground which is about 1.5 kms from the beach and closer to the road. It is however a beautiful spot set amongst some nice plantings of native bush with almost nobody here allowing us to grab a spot sheltered from the wind but still with views if the estuary. At $15 per adult per night it’s not cheap to stay here although you can buy a yearly pass for $138 which if it wasn’t for the 8 metre limit at a lot of the camps (ours is 8.7 long) we probably would.

That evening we grabbed the bikes out of the back and set off down to the beach for a quick look see. It wasn’t till we were most of the way there that I realised my rear tyre was seriously down on pressure and we had returned the bike pump to one of our sons. That night Sarah remembered the emergency tyre repair kit for the motorhome which is both an electric pump and has the gunk to fill a puncture that came with the motorhome as it has no spare, not needing that we inflated the tyre to just like a new one. What a clever wife I have.

Not wanting to leave any of the walks unwalked we set off on Vin’s walk that runs around the back of the park behind the campsite and close to the road. It’s an interesting walk through both bush and farmland. You have the option of the 30 minute walk or a slightly longer walk that follows quite a narrow pathway through bush back to the park entrance, a walk well worth taking.

All this walking meant another trip to the beach so back out with the bikes for a quick ride there, then into the sea for a nice splash down. Then a very pleasant ride back to the motorhome. As we rode to and from the beach past the mangroves there was a lot of disturbance in the water from what we assumed were mullet although I could be corrected on this. Mostly rather small but some of them would make quite decent bait fish if we had a net.

It’s funny how often we have driven huge distances to get somewhere and then right on our doorstep so to speak is a place that we have both enjoyed so much that we have decided to stay a third night. It’s here that I understand the frustrations of people using the council booking system. You cannot extend your stay online you have to call the council and the people you speak to on the other end of the phone at the council cannot extend your stay either this needs to be done by someone from park services. So what should be a very simple matter of a couple of minutes on the website has turned into an hour waiting for a call back to approve our stay. It’s not as though the camp is full there is space everywhere!

One other commentary on the campsite is that despite having flushing toilets there are no showers which at $15 per person (more than a DOC camp) which I find surprising and think that I would rather see long drop toilets and cold water showers than the flush toilets. I am sure people staying here that are walking the the Te Aroaha Trail would love to be able to have a shower. To view the places we have visited click here to see them on Google maps. You can click the links to read the blog about that area. [cardoza_facebook_like_box] To view the Ratings we have done for places we have stayed click here

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Camping in Wenderholm It seems like a lifetime ago that we last managed to get away in the motorhome when in reality it's only been a couple of months.

#campervan holiday New Zealand #Camping Auckland Regional Parks #Camping in Auckland #Ebikes #Living in your motorhome #Motorhome Blog New Zealand #Motorhome Holiday New Zealand #Nature New Zealand

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