Starfish

There were certain truths in the world that simply beggared disbelief. Truths that appeared and refused to be neatly packed away back into the reality that they had just called into question.

The silvery creature in front of him was one of those truths.

Of course, he’d heard the stories--he was a fisherman’s son, after all. But that was supposed to be all they were, stories.

Those flat black eyes were very much not a story.

How did I get here?

Well. That was actually the easy answer, counterintuitively.

Angelo had practically been raised on the Carandria, which meant he really should have known better. The port rail had been buckling outward just a bit near the stern for the better part of three years--it wasn’t an immediate problem, so Papá hadn’t been giving it much attention.

“It’ll take the damned thing snapping off in a storm for you to take notice, Gianpaulo,” Mamá had said.

From Sybil’s mouth…

He should have known better. He’d worked alongside Papá through too many storms not to know how quickly the winds could change from a mild inconvenience to life-threatening. He should have gotten below when his father said, but he’d thought he could lash down those last three barrels, and…

Salt on his lips. Ice in his lungs. Black black black, all around. No way to know what was sea and what was sky, all of it dark and deep and hungry.

And then a flash, a flicker. Silver streaks and fish-slick scales and a vice around his chest. He remembered that, if vaguely. The feeling of being drawn through the water, drawn up, breaking the surface and gasping for air even while his lungs expelled the water he’d already breathed, and then--

More darkness.

And then…

Wherever she had taken him, and however long it had taken him to wake, the storm had not entirely passed. The sky was still the same dark gray as the sea beneath it, though at least the winds were no longer quite so cutting.

Tap tap tap.

Angelo jerked away from the touch, and the mermaid snatched her clawed, webbed hand back, blinking at him. Blinking with filmy, fishy lids that didn’t entirely hide the black of her eyes.

Oh dear Lord.

That was how she’d woken him up, too. Three taps against his cheek. Maybe it was…all she knew to do, with him just sitting on that pathetic spit of sand, drenched and trembling and silent.

“You--” His voice was sea-rough and shivering. He coughed, his throat burning with salt. “You…saved me?”

The mermaid blinked again, and tilted her head to the side as she watched the movement of his mouth. Her long, silver-swift tail coiled back and forth in the water behind her.

She wasn’t exactly…half fish. The lower part of her body actually put him more in mind of a serpent than a proper fish, save for the sharp curves of dorsal and pectoral fins. And it wasn’t a clear divide either, a fishy-snake tail blending into a human torso. The silver scales spread up her whole body, head to toe--tailfin. Those on her more human half lightened slightly, less silver and more pallid gray, something that in the right light could be mistaken for human, he supposed.

But those claws…

“Th-thank you,” he managed to croak out. Manners couldn’t hurt, right? And she had saved him from drowning.

Her head tilted the other way. Thick, tangled, silver-white hair cascaded down over her shoulder to drag against the pebbled sand where she was bracing herself half out of the water. The sandbar he’d woken on wasn’t even large enough for both of them to properly fit. Though he supposed that wasn’t really a problem for her.

As she continued to stare at him, a hint of a frown on her human-but-not face, he started to realize.

“Um…thank you?” he repeated, just in case.

She blinked at him again.

“You…can you speak?”

Blink. Blink.

“Errr, can you understand me?”

Blink.

Fantastic.

He exhaled slowly and let his head fall back, eyes closed. “Right. Well. Thanks anyway, Miss Mermaid.”

“Talo’op kas en?”

His head snapped back up, eyes blowing wide. “I--what? Did you just…?”

The mermaid blinked, then repeated slowly, “Talooohhh’op kaaahhhs en?”

Right. So, she could speak. Just…not to him. Or he to her, apparently.

He shook his head helplessly, spreading his hands out at his sides. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” Despite himself, he realized he was matching her tone, speaking slow and careful, as though that might somehow bridge the lack of knowledge between them.

The mermaid sighed, and he started slightly as he caught sight of faint slits of pinkish flesh along her ribs sort of…fluttering.

Ah. Gills. Of course.

“Eviit tru?” She pointed to him, then out over the water.

The lashing rain of the storm had long faded to a dull drizzle, but he didn’t think that’s what she was talking about. With a sigh of his own, he repeated, “I…don’t…understand,” once more spreading his arms wide and shaking his head.

The mermaid huffed at him, her frown deepening. “Eviit tru?” she repeated, pointing back out over the choppy waves. “Eviit tru?” She turned to point in another direction. “Tru?” Another twist and point.

Was she…?

“Are you…asking where I’m from?” Angelo asked cautiously, sitting up a little straighter, despite the mild protest from his aching body. When she blinked at him again, he pointed to himself. “Me? Ahh, tru?”

She beamed, and he gulped at the flash of razor-sharp teeth. “Ehvas! Tru! Eviit?” She pointed in the first direction she’d indicated again. “Deloh eviit?” She pointed behind him, then cocked her head and with pointed theatrics spread her hands out to either side--a fairly clear gesture of confusion.

Right. Right, so, maybe eviit was…a direction? Or indicative of one?

Which was a good question. Where were they?

On instinct, he looked up…then cursed softly when he realized the clouds were still too thick to make out the stars. It had been late dusk when the storm came on, so it must be full night by now, right? Which would have made figure out which direction home was relatively simple, if he could just see--

“Damn.” He scrubbed a hand over his eyes, shaking his head. “I--I don’t know. I don’t know where we are, so I don’t know which way to…”

He looked up to see the mermaid staring at him. Hesitantly, she pointed upward and asked with clear disbelief, “Eviit?”

A slightly hysterical loath caught in his salt-coated throat. “Ahh—no. No. Not…eviit.” He pointed up, mirroring her, then shook his head. “Definitely not, no.”

That seemed to be something of a relief to the mermaid, who relaxed slightly and nodded along. “Eviit…naahhht,” she repeated carefully, pointing up again. Her head tilted the other way. “Dea’tohris van kas ellauh?”

…He had absolutely no hope of deciphering that one.

Seeming to realize this, the mermaid shook her head and waved one hand at him, fingers splayed waist so the webbing between them stretched thin almost to the point of translucence. Then she pointed at him. “Tru.”

“Me. Yes, me.” He tapped his chest. “Tru.”

She smiled and nodded quickly. “Tru kas vehn…” She seemed to think for a moment, then tipped her head back much the way he had just done, stared at the sky, then sighed heavily. She looked back to him again and once more spread her arms out in that questioning gesture. “Tru dae’tohris van?”

Oh. She wanted to know why he’d been looking up, if that wasn’t where he needed to go.

Hmmm…

“How do I explain this?” Angelo sighed, digging his fingers back into his tangled, damp hair. She was a sea creature, right? Did she even know what stars were? How was he supposed to…

“I--I don’t know where we are,” he said, continuing to speak in that deliberate, careful way despite knowing it likely wasn’t going to make any difference. “I need the stars--” he pointed up-- “to figure out which direction my home is. My--tru eviit needs the stars. Stars.”

He thrust his finger skyward, then spread both hands out and looked around helplessly before shaking his head. “I don’t know…eviit. Don’t know eviit.”

The mermaid continued to stare at him, new lines forming on her brow with each word. “Pell’at…tru dae’thoris?”

“Dae’tho--look, I don’t know.” He flung his arms out in frustration, looking around at the dark sea and sky before throwing them up over his head. “I don’t know where I am! I don’t know where to go! Thanks for saving my life and all, but now I’m stuck here on this Godforsaken spit of sand and I can’t find the stars.” He groaned and dropped his head forward into his hands.

“No stars, no home,” he muttered helplessly.

“...Noohhh…stahhhrrr.”

He looked up. “What?”

The mermaid was frowning in concentration as she tried to repeat again, “Noohhh stahhhrr.” She shook her head slowly and gave him a helpless look. “Detriit ahn ve--detriit…stahhhr.”

“Detriit star? You--are you asking what? What is a star?” He’d been afraid of this. With his rescuer watching intently, he exhaled sharply and leaned over to trace his finger through the sand. “I don’t know how else to--they’re above, y’know, but we usually say they look like this.”

He finished drawing a crude representation of a five-pointed shape and looked up at her again. “Star,” he said, pointing to the drawing. “No star, no home. No eviit.”

The mermaid stared. And stared, and stared, and continued staring.

To his surprise, when she back at him, there was understanding in her eyes. “Tru…stahhr,” she said slowly, pointing to the sand drawing. “Deloh esh…tru eviit?”

“Umm…yes? Yes, if I could see the stars, I could figure out how to get home.” He nodded encouragingly. “Stars, tru eviit. Yes.”

The mermaid didn’t have what he would call “eyebrows”, exactly. No hair on her face--or maybe even on her head, as now that he was closer he could see the thick white strands that he had thought to be hair seemed more like whiskers of some sort--but there were distinct ridges above the round black of her eyes. One of those arched up into her brow.

“Dehmo ennae fa’ellas gatash,” she muttered, shaking her head and shifting slightly so her sinuous tail drifted further back into the water. “Pell’at, vas ton ka…” The surf was up to her shoulders as she continued mumbling to herself.

Was she…leaving?

“W-wait.” He started to reach for her, panic rising in his chest. “Where are you going?”

“Ehvaht.” She held up a webbed hand to him, halting him in place. “Tru fahlee.” She pointed to the sand beneath him. Pointed to him again. “Tru.” Pointed to the sand. “Fahlee.”

He gathered that she was telling him to stay put. If it would have been at all understandable, he might have snipped something about not having many other options. Instead, he nodded slowly. “Tru f-fahlee,” he repeated. “But--but you’re coming back, right?”

Though he knew she couldn’t understand the words, something in his voice must have reached her. The mermaid’s expression softened a bit, and she smiled quickly. “Tru fahlee. Kan vas eh.” She nodded at him, then disappeared beneath the water.

…It seemed his only choice was to wait. And hope.

Thankfully, he only had a handful of minutes to spiral into his own mind about just how very dead he was if she decided not to come back; quite aside from not knowing where he was, now that he had a moment to truly consider his situation without the world-shaking reality of talking to a mermaid, he realized he was quite cold. And getting hungry.

He had to be close enough to some shore that this sandbar had been able to form. Even if it was just a tiny island, it would be something. The problem was that he couldn’t see any hint of what that something might be on the horizon, in any direction. The clouds remained stubbornly in place, blocking any hope of moonlight that might improve visibility. Maybe in an hour or so…

“Kan vas!”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” He all but fell over himself as he jumped back from the abrupt spray of saltwater and the now beaming mermaid. “Y-you…what?”

“Kan vas,” the mermaid repeated easily, shimmying halfway out of the water again and flicking the very tip of her tail back and forth over the surface. She seemed pleased with herself. “Kan ehlo star.”

She held up a silvery hand, and he nearly toppled over again.

A star. She’d brought him a star.

Angelo stared at the slowly creeping creature on her splayed palm. It was too dark to make out its proper color, only that it was dark and ruddy against the flash of her scales. Any hint of hope shriveled up in his gut.

“Oh, God…” He pressed a hand over his eyes, feeling that hysterical laugh bubbling up again. “That--no. That’s a starfish. That’s…that’s not going to help.”

When he dropped his hand, he saw the mermaid looking at him quizzically, still offering up the starfish on her open palm. “I’m sorry. Thank you, I know you were trying to help, but that’s…it’s the wrong star. Wrong star.” He pointed to it and shook his head. “Not star.”

The mermaid frowned, drawing her hand back slightly. “Pell’at esh an--an vari sa! Deloh esh!” Clearly frustrated, she let the starfish plop down onto the sand and thrust her other arm out to gesture to the drawing he’d made. “Esh!”

“Yes, it’s the same shape, but that’s not a star!” he snapped back. “I mean those stars! Up there!” He flung one hand upward to point at the sky. “The ones you’ve probably never even seen, so I don’t know why I thought you…you might…what?”

The mermaid gaped, looking from his drawing to where he pointed at the clouds above them. “Naht…star,” she said slowly, “Naht…eviit.” Her eyes flicked back down to him, then up again. “Not star, not eviit…tru seeris nah? Tru seeris van toh?”

With a sudden energy, she began scratching at the sand. A faint growl escaped her as the webbing between her fingers hinder the movements of…whatever she was trying to do. “Tru. Tru, vehn.” She waved him closer.

Well, that gesture was easily understandable, at least. A little warily, he shuffled over to get a better look at what she was doing. “Are you…trying to write?” How was that going to work any better than them trying to talk to each other? They probably didn’t even use the same letters!

“Tru,” the mermaid said briskly, and reached out to take his hand. He flinched, startled by the contact, and she stilled. Meeting his eyes, a bit of the urgency in her movements softened as she reached for him again. “Tru?”

Flabbergasted, he watched as she curled all but his pointer finger in toward his palm, then guided his hand down to the sand to begin to…

“Oh!” Catching on to what she wanted of him, if not exactly what she was doing, he allowed her to use his finger to begin tracing shapes into the sand, the way that he had drawn the star before. He supposed it made sense that it wouldn’t be easy for her to do it, that webbing probably made holding her hand in such a position uncomfortable. “Right, so we’re…drawing something. What are we drawing? What’s tru see--seeris na?”

“Seeris nah,” the mermaid corrected, emphasising and softening the vowels. “Seeris… Star. Star…”

“No, I don’t need anymore starfish--”

He looked down at what she was having him draw, and his mouth snapped closed. His eyes flickered from one point to the next, following the graceful lines and the flow from one carefully marked dot to the next.

“This--this is a star chart.” The realization struck him full in the chest. He looked to the mermaid, wide eyed. “This is a star chart! Seeris nah!”

“Ehvas!” The mermaid dropped his hand, sitting back with a wide smile. “Ehvas! Seeris nah!”

Oh sweet holy angels, she knew how to make a star chart! From memory! What--how--?!

He quickly decided it didn’t matter, shaking his head with an incredulous laugh. “Yes, yes, that’s it exactly! I can use the stars to get home! Seeris nah…” He pointed to her chart, then up at the sky. “Seeris nah…eviit?”

“Ehvas,” the mermaid said again, nodding happily. “Koh esh.” She tapped a point on her drawing that a quick glance told him was Polaris. “Va’tru? Koh esh vareen.” She shifted a bit further out of the water, leaned back onto one hand, and pointed above them. Not generally this time, but marking a specific point. As if she could…somehow make out where the North Star was despite the cloud cover.

“That’s…north?” He leaned closer, bringing his hand up to try to pinpoint where in the sky she was indicating. “So…if that’s north, then…”

Slowly, he brought his hand down, marking as straight a line as he could. “If that’s north, then I need to head toward…

He hurried back to the star chart, hunching over it. The mermaid twisted her upper body to watch as he traced a line from Polaris to the southwest. “Here. I need to get here.” He pointed, looking back up at her. “Eviit.”

She smiled, laying a hand over his. “Eviit.”

Home.