Ashore

The woman sloshed from the water, waves frothing about her knees as if the cold ocean was straining to keep her. Once on land, her soft toes sunk into wet sand as her legs wobbled with disuse. Lush black hair hung over her shoulders and back in sodden, twisting ringlets, and she crossed her arms against the cold as she stumbled toward a rocky outcropping in the distance. Goosebumps rose along dark skin as her eyes, black as the sea-depths, searched the beach for movement.

Save for the scuttling of a gray crab, all was still.

Naia was the name she had chosen, and when she emerged from the rocks, Naia wore a thick shawl, cotton breeches, and boots which made her toes feel warm but terribly constricted. Standing on the sand, she brushed her fingers along the fabric, hands tracing down the sides of her legs. With an eager, if not somewhat ungainly skip, she set out toward the white bluffs which stretched above the beach - and the red-roofed buildings which piled atop them.

In the city’s streets, Naia was treated to a series of friendly nods. She’d visited the city a handful of times over the past year, and it seemed that at least a few of the residents recognized her. The thought warmed her, and Naia made the rest of the journey to the tea shop with a delighted spring in her admittedly, still wobbly steps.

She was jittery with an energy which was both excited and nervous, for she had made a friend. A human friend. Her friend’s name was Saoirse, and Naia had met her after unknowingly venturing into town on a market day. Saoirse was selling bracelets made of pretty ocean polished stones, and though Naia had no money at the time, she’d stopped to admire the jewelry all the same. Touched by Naia’s admiration of her work, Saoirse slipped a bracelet over Naia’s hand, and the only payment she asked for was to meet for tea a month from that day.

And now, a month later, Naia stood at the tea shop entrance, stone bracelet cool against her wrist.

Saoirse sat at a round wooden table in a tucked-away corner, beneath a window trimmed in emerald curtains. Her pale hands were folded together atop the table, and chestnut brown hair, cropped short, curled about her ears. She had a narrow face, a strong, high bridged nose, and large dark eyes. As soon as Naia stepped into the shop, wooden floorboards creaking beneath her, those large eyes flickered up. Instantly, Saoirse was smiling, the kind which filled her face, dimpling her cheeks.

When Naia sat, it took her a moment to figure out how to fold her legs comfortably between the chair and table. Fortunately, Saoirse seemed not to notice, and when Saoirse reached across the table, squeezing Naia’s hands, Naia squeezed back. She was determined to avoid scaring her new friend away with the truth - that it was a mermaid who’d joined her for tea.

“It’s good to see you, friend,” Saoirse said, smiling brightly.

“And you,” Naia replied.

“I hope you don’t mind - I ordered tea for us both.”

“I don’t mind.”

Saoirse’s smile widened, and up close, Naia noticed that the teeth at the corners of her mouth looked surprisingly sharp. If humans hunted for fish in the sea like merfolk, Saoirse’s sharp teeth would be particularly useful, Naia thought - before forcing it out of her mind. She was meant to be making human conversation, not discussing the best methods for catching fish in one’s mouth.

Naia cleared her throat. She’d practiced this. Granted, the practice had been with a particularly talkative gannet. But practice was still practice, and Naia was determined to make a good, very human, impression.

“So,” Naia said, folding her hands in a mimicry of Saoirse’s posture. “Is selling jewelry your means of collecting coins?”

Saoirse’s chin dipped in a hurried nod. “Oh yes. I collect many beautiful coins from my jewelry sales.”

“Wow,” Naia said, a little breathlessly, as she imagined what it would be like to hold so many pretty, gleaming coins in her hands.

“What of you?” Saoirse asked.

“Oh, I-” Naia stammered. “I - um, find my coins. In the sand.” There really was no way to explain that she collected the stray coins which dropped like fallen stars to the sea floor.

“The sand,” Saoirse breathed, black eyes growing wide. “How marvelous.”

Naia grinned, pleased that her answer had been satisfactory. Breathing easier, she relaxed back into her chair.

A young man delivered their tea. He carried a teapot and two earthen mugs. As he bent over the table, nimble fingers deposited the teapot and then the two mugs before them. He had long black hair that fell over his shoulder in a long braid and eyes as bright as a kelp forest in shallow water. Dipping his head, he said, “Please enjoy,” before hurrying away.

Naia stared for a moment at the pot in silent consideration, and when she looked up, saw Saoirse doing the same. However, when Saoirse saw Naia looking, she straightened up, grabbing for the teapot. Pulling it in front of her, she plucked the lid from the top and peered down at the liquid inside. Her nostrils flared as she eyed it critically.

“Is it...okay?”

Saoirse paused before nodding. “Yes. You’ve got to check beforehand to be sure, though.”

Naia nodded as if this made perfect sense. In truth, she knew little of tea, and had yet to consume any in her visits to land.

Wordlessly, Saoirse plucked a spoon from a tray at the table and set about scooping sodden leaves into each of the mugs. Tilting her head, Naia watched the process, utterly fascinated. She had always assumed tea referred to the liquid - but clearly it was meant to describe these leaves once they were soaked in water.

When Saoirse slid her a mug, Naia grabbed a spoon of her own. Before eating however, Naia paused. She recalled a ritual she’d observed humans practicing at meals. Meeting Saoirse’s eyes, she dipped her head down and said, “I pray to you my thanks for this meal.”

Saoirse blinked, and then she was nodding. Dipping her head, she repeated Naia’s words, “I pray to you my thanks for this meal.”

And then, lifting their spoons, they scooped the wet leaves into their mouths.

The taste was...bitter. But no more bitter than a bite of an urchin not yet matured. Naia turned the leaf over in her mouth before grinding it between her teeth and swallowing.

“A delicacy,” Naia said, licking her lips.

“Yes,” Saoirse replied, poking at the other leaves in her cup.

Naia watched as she spooned another glob of leaves into her mouth. As she leaned forward over the cup, Naia noticed, for the first time, the thick pelt that wrapped around her shoulders. It was odd. The pelt was dark - almost oily in appearance, and it certainly should have been one of the first things she noticed - but until now, Naia’s eyes had slid right over it. It was pretty, she reflected, admiring the sheen.

“I like your shawl.”

When Saoirse stiffened, Naia froze, wracking her brain to determine the human social norm she had violated. Perhaps Saoirse thought she wanted it? Because that was what had happened with the bracelet, wasn’t it? But it was one thing to give away a trinket and quite another to give away the pelt which kept you warm.

“I do not want it,” Naia hurried to explain. “Your bracelet was gift enough for me.”

Saoirse’s tight expression relaxed, and she lifted a hand, running her fingers along the pelt. “It is special to me.”

“It is lovely.”

“Thank you,” the corners of Saoirse’s eyes crinkled with her smile.

When the waiter returned, he glanced a little oddly at the teapot and mugs. When he asked them if the tea was satisfactory, both women assured him it was. Before returning to the back, he turned a dark, contemplative look upon them both.

Both Naia and Saoirse watched him go.

“Perhaps I should have given him shinier coins,” Saoirse mused in a thoughtful whisper.

Naia swallowed, nodding, for that must have been what offended him. “We humans love our shiny things.”

“That we do,” Saoirse agreed, and promptly dug a gleaming coin from the pouch at her waist. Holding it triumphantly up, she set it on the table with a click. “I’m sure this will please him.”

“If it doesn’t, he’s a fool,” Naia said a little haughtily. “It’s very shiny.”

Both women gazed a little wistfully at the coin.

“So,” Saoirse said at last. “Tell me more about yourself. What do you like to do?”

Naia didn’t hesitate with this answer. It was one she had prepared. “I walk. Everywhere. All of the time. Walking. It burns my muscles most pleasantly.”

“Walking is wonderful, isn’t it?” Saoirse agreed, an excited flush crossing her pale cheeks. “Not always convenient. But it’s always an adventure.”

Naia nodded in eager agreement. She was overjoyed to have so much in common with this human.

“Perhaps we can walk after our tea,” Naia ventured. “Where the cliffs overlook the sea.”

Before Saoirse could answer, the waiter returned. His hands slammed the table, and Naia and Saoirse both jumped in their seats as the teapot and cups rattled on the shaking wood. Saoirse’s lips curled back, and her white teeth gleamed. From Naia’s mouth, there escaped a hiss.

Gone was the waiter’s easy cordiality. His fine-boned cheeks were pale, and those green eyes were sharp as the broken glass which collected beneath the shipyard waters. His elegant fingers curled around the edges of the table as he glared.

“I know,” he said, and his voice was trembling. Whether with rage or fear, Naia couldn’t be sure.

Naia’s heart was a rock in her chest. Mouth dry, she could only stare as her toes curled helplessly in her boots.

It was Saoirse who spoke. “Know what?” she snapped.

“You can stop hiding. I know what you are.”

Naia heaved a shuddering breath. Swallowing, she looked across the table. Saoirse, her gaze filled with inexplicable terror, stared back.

“I don’t understand why you fae hunters won’t just leave me alone.” The waiter’s voice hitched, and he sounded near to tears.

Naia’s head whipped around so fast that her neck gave a twinge. “What?”

At once, the waiter's rage fled, melting instead into an exhausted sort of grief. Green eyes welling with bright, inhuman tears, he bitterly shook his head. “I saw that you refused the tea. Not a drop of it was drunk! It’s a myth you know. I can’t bespell folk with just any food or drink.”

“Oh,” Naia said, drawing a wondering breath. “You’re meant to drink it.”

“Yes of course you drink-” the waiter’s mouth snapped closed. “Wait what?”

“What?” Saoirse exclaimed, looking at Naia.

“Wait...” Naia said looking back at Saoirse, taking in her dark eyes and the pelt around her shoulders.

“What?!” the waiter said, throwing his hands up as he looked between them.

“You’re not human,” Naia and Saoirse said in unison.

For a long moment, all three were silent.

And then Saoirse was laughing, and it was a sharp, barking sound.

Naia pressed a hand over her mouth as she looked at Saoirse. “You’re a selkie,” she said between her fingers.

“Well of course I am. And you’re merfolk,” Saoirse said, shaking her head. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it.”

“Yes well you’re both responsible for the couple hundred years that stress probably took from my life,” the waiter said, tossing his braid over his shoulder and crossing his arms against his chest.

“Is leaf water good?” Naia asked, looking at him doubtfully.

“Of course it is,” the waiter said with a sigh and pulled up a chair. “Here, let me pour it.”

Steam rose from the mugs, and Naia watched as it softened Saoirse’s sharp features. “I thought you were my first human friend,” Naia admitted.

Saoirse bit her lip, and Naia again glimpsed those sharp teeth. “Maybe instead I’ll be your first Selkie friend?”

Wrapping her fingers around the hot mug, Naia smiled. “I think I’d like that.”

“And we can still take that walk. I do so like moving these legs,” Saoirse said. Gaze sliding to her right, she studied the waiter. “Would you like to join us, faerie?”

“It’s Adam,” he said with a sniff. “And yes, alright.”

“I’ll give you a bracelet to make up for scaring you,” Saoirse said.

“And I will not eat you should you slip and fall into my waters,” Naia generously offered.

“...thanks.”

Naia grinned. “You’re welcome.”

Tea was good, as it turned out. And once the teapot was empty, the mermaid, selkie, and faerie left the shop to walk together.

If any should have turned their gaze toward the ocean that day, they would have observed three windswept silhouettes trailing along the pale bluffs. And should the watcher have persisted in watching, they would have seen the figures’ outlines shifting, becoming something beautiful and other when faced with the vast blue of sky and sea.

Poetry