Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

             The storm was over by morning, so it was time to check for damages. Tugging on some jeans, a flannel, and her combat boots, Julia pushed open the hatch of her metal habitat and stepped out into the sunlight. The smell of fresh salt hit her nose once again. It was amazing how these structures were so airtight. She descended the stairs and onto the ground, now squishy with the night’s rain. For all the wind and thunder she heard last night, there didn’t seem to be too much damage. Everything was just wet. Then again, everything was just water— ocean— beyond her small island. Still, it was best to make sure.

             Julia spent the next four hours or so playing a dual game of inspector and repairman. With her shovel, she scooped the washed-out soil back into her exterior growbeds. With her repair tool, she made the numerous cracks and scrapes outside her habitat disappear— she wouldn’t allow her house to look anything less than spotless. With her bare hands and too much patience, she collected every fallen branch and raked every leaf from the ground, dumping it all into a pile on the corner of her land. She cleaned the solar panels. Inspected all the circuitry. Not one piece of her home was left unchecked. By the time she finished, the sky had faded from cerulean blue to dusky orange, and the endless ocean reflected just the same colour. She had started at the crack of dawn, but a day here was about three times faster than where she used to live. In the sixteen or so hours that she would spend awake, she would witness about two-and-a-half day-night cycles, then sleep for one-and-a-half. It was actually kind of nice. Julia liked the feel of the night, but had less affinity for the terrible fatigue she would have risked back on Earth. Here, the way of life was much more suited to her own.

             She ascended the stairs again, her boots clanking on the metal grating. She entered her metal habitat again and promptly swapped her boots for soft slippers. One stretch later with several angry cracks from her spine, it was officially time to relax. The sky continued to darken outside. Meanwhile, Julia worked under artificially warm lighting to brew a cup of tea, grab the fuzzy blanket, and choose the right novel from her full bookshelf. This one was written by Stephen King, one of her favourite authors. It was also made from genuine paper, something unheard of in this year.

             Now settled in her extra-padded chair, she sniffed at her steaming cup of tea. Sweet jasmine. The scent brought a pleasant smile to her face, but she knew better than to sip it right away. Tea tasted better without tingly burns on the tongue. So, she set her steel mug on the titanium coffee table before her, and drew up her book instead. Her fingers brushed against the page edges, finding the last folded corner she had made as a cheap bookmark. Thankfully, the habitat was only airtight, not sound-proof. Julia became enthralled in her story, the experience only heightened by the taste of jasmine tea and the sound of lapping waves outside.

             Soon after she started reading, a blue haze clouded her vision. It was like someone had attached two blue-tinted flashlights to her head that followed every movement of her eyes. Sure, it was annoying, but she stopped caring long ago. This haze came and went whenever it pleased, with seemingly no trigger from her. Eventually, her vision would return to normal again anyway. Plus, the haze didn’t affect her ability to read, so she had no reason to care.

             Julia’s eyes glossed over the printed words, reading at a speedy pace. She could finish an entire page and turn to the next, while her spectator was still at the half-way mark. Though he could see through her eyes, he didn’t share her knowledge. The symbols she inherently understood were only symbols to him, which he had to consciously ponder. It made him a considerably slow reader. He was making progress, however. Not long ago, he didn’t know what English was, and all the words looked like a finely crafted, but monotonous art piece. It used to look like cross-stitching, which Julia also enjoyed doing from time-to-time. Now, he could separate the symbols into words and sentences, and understand them at a basic level. This was leagues more progress than anyone else he knew, especially since his siblings thought he was silly for learning “human culture.” Understanding the story was a completely different task, given that he missed most of its content due to Julia’s impatient page-flipping. He hoped one day he could match her speed.

             Julia waited out the night, not feeling the least bit tired. The blue haze on her vision faded once she finally put the book down.

. . .

             Once Julia put her reading to rest, Starck decided to follow suit. With some concentration, he relaxed the connection between their minds, and let go. Like hands slipping out of the others’ grasp. Soon enough, his eyes became purely his own again, the vision of a cozy book and comfortable room fading into the waters of a cold, vast ocean. Gently, the cool current pushed and pulled against him. This was where his body had been for the past several hours: circling indefinitely beneath the perimeter of the floating island, which Julia called home. His mind had been elsewhere entirely. Starck swam a few more circles, scaled lips curled as he smiled to himself in pure delight. Out of everything he could do “with” Julia, he loved reading with her the most. Not only was it a chance to practice his English and read a nice story, but reading made Julia happy. It brought numerous emotions to the surface of her mind— intrigue, joy, shock, and sometimes more negative ones too, but she loved the thrill of the ride. It made her happy, so Starck loved it too.

             On the Northern side of this last circle, Starck simply continued straight, letting his momentum carry him through the waters. The light from the lilac floaters clinging to the underside of the island faded, replaced by sunlight that pierced through the water’s surface above. Had he stayed with Julia for that long again, that a new day had already begun? As he gained more distance, he could still feel her presence. Her mind was like a brilliant star in a dark void, the mindspace; so bright that he could sense it from the other side of the crater. She was one of the few creatures on this side of the planet with sentience and coherent thought, but she was the only one who spat out her thoughts and emotions aimlessly and unknowingly into the surrounding mindspace. She didn’t know it existed. Without such awareness, she couldn’t be precise in her messages to the other sentient creatures. In that way, she was incredibly naïve. Regardless of that, Starck was captivated by her, and only wanted to know more about her.

             While lost in his own blissful thoughts, the current continued to push him along. Occasionally, he needed an extra boost, which was easy with his paddle-like arms. The journey continued like this for some time. Steadily, he drifted over what Julia called the “sparse reef” in her mind. The name was very fitting, as this place was almost lifeless, but Starck couldn’t help but wonder if she came up with that name herself. Not once had he seen Julia swim in these oceans.

             The sea floor changed below him again and again. The sand and coral of the sparse reef disappeared as the earth dipped down into a gaping trench, part of the “blood kelp zone,” before rising back up in a sandy mound, known as the “sea treader’s path.” Starck knew those “sea treaders” quite well. Like his own kind, they were colossal but kind-hearted, and they minded their own business. Why had Julia named them as such? She had never seen one before, or at least no memories of such brimmed at the surface of her mind.

             Beyond the sea treader’s path, the world seemed to end. The earth dropped sharply down, with only black sea for miles and miles to come. As Starck drew near, gentle cyan light from the bioluminescence of his eyes and tentacles tried feebly to illuminate the darkness. It was useless. He might as well have been born blind. In the distance, he could hear the shrieks of his neighbors, the "ghost leviathans". They were also alright— majestic and massive, but thoughtless and quite territorial. He didn’t like them as much, and was glad they were too far away to see the faint glow of their bodies. Somewhere in this void, Starck’s siblings lurked about as well.

             Down and down, he dove. Soft cyan light radiated to the cliff side beside him, the only indication in this inky blackness of where he was going. That, and the slowly increasing pressure of the water around him. Were it not for his ridged, armoured body, his insides would have been crushed easily. The shrieks of the ghost leviathans continued, but grew softer. For that, Starck was grateful. A blanket of silence overcame the little Sea Emperor, and it reminded him of another reason he liked Julia: she was quiet. Eventually the seabed came into view with a cyan glow, to Starck’s relief. His eyes were beginning to grow heavy as sleep threatened to take hold, and though he had refreshed his strength from that last feeding trip in the crater, it was becoming harder to paddle himself forward. That reminded him— how could Julia stay awake for multiple days in a row? It was like the days, nor the nights mattered to her.

             Miles away, above the surface, in what was probably now the light of another dusk, Julia’s mind ebbed like waves on a shore. It was still shining brightly in the darkness of the mindspace, radiating energy and brilliance without a shadow of drowsiness. Starck would wake up tomorrow, and she probably wouldn’t have slept at all. A slight smile tugging at his lips as he gave in to sleep. Soon, he might finally have the courage to meet her.

Chapter Text

            Starck swam along the cliffside again, this time with the water pressure slowly lifting around him. Originally he thought it would be ridiculous to come back so soon, but after a second thought, he decided to utilize his courage while he still had it. If only the others wouldn’t put doubts in his mind.

            A voice pushed its way into Starck’s head. The voice was delicate, distinctly feminine, and placed into his mind with the precision of a surgeon. “Still hungry? You just returned home not so long ago.”

            He did not turn around, or even slow his ascent. With his eyes still open, he focused inside on the void of the mindspace. Just like what his real eyes could see, there was mostly blackness. However, in the ethereal distance behind him there were lights: four of them, in fact, each one distinct and familiar. The voice he heard most certainly came from the largest light, a soft peach colour: his eldest sister, Elka.

            Starck huffed. Of course she would say something about his rushed return. “You know I’m not hungry and you know I’m not going back to feed again. Why bother asking?”

            Already focused within this mental space, Starck could see as a beam of light dashed from another ball of light— this one, red— into his own. As soon as it crashed into his light, the thought bubbled into his mind, clumsy and loud. “He wants to see that little child. The stubborn one who never plays in the water like us.”

            “Shut it, Gerrit,” Starck mentally spat back. Elka would have phrased it more elegantly, like cease! He had no such patience this time.

            “I just don’t understand why you bother,” Gerrit insisted. “She’s making it clear she wants to play alone, up there.”

            “Because,” Starck began, making sure his mental sigh of frustration was pushed through the mindspace as well. “She is curious, don’t you think? Imagine what it would be like to play with a human. They are kind, after all, and one freed us years ago.”

            Gerrit didn’t have a snarky remark for that one, it seemed. Inside, Starck saw more beams of light dance between the four minds, this way and that. A Sea Emperor’s interest in a human, an alien, was supposedly a controversial topic. That, or the topic of Mom was. Or had been before.

            One final thought pierced Starck’s mind, just as he saw the murky sunlight above. “Please be careful,” Elka politely said. Choosing to preserve his energy, Starck simply pushed his feelings of agreement through the space, and that was the end of the conversation.

. . .

            Starck paddled himself through the warmer waters, sunlight shimmering over his ridged back and illuminating the scene. Diverse forms of life moved all around him, as if dancing in the current. Everything— from creatures the size of his torso to the size of his mandible, seemed to move in harmony here. Respectfully, they swam out of his way as he drifted East. As soon as he was out of their field of perception, they would resume their normal cycles of fighting and fleeing from each other. It was natural, without him around. Starck looked at each of them in the eyes as his hulking form slowly moved past. Though they couldn’t respond, he made sure to grace the mind of each creature with a sense of warmth and peace.

            Inside his own mind, he tried to swallow his fear. Absolutely and above all, he did not want to scare Julia away. He didn’t want her to be afraid of him, but how exactly does a giant sea dweller politely introduce themselves to a human? Come off too strongly, and she may run away or, horrifically, grab a weapon. Come off too weakly, and she may be too disinterested. What if she was inside her habitat when he breached the surface and didn’t see him? Or what if she was outside and did see him breach, and then her face dropped in horror, and then she screamed, and then—

            Starck clenched his eyes shut and pushed those thoughts out of his head. They made his belly feel unpleasantly sick. He just wanted this to go right. In adulthood, sea emperors were graceful, benevolent, and wise, knowing full well that the universe would always maintain balance and harmony in the end, no matter what happened. In contrast, Starck was still quite young, the equivalent of a man in his early twenties, and terribly anxious about this situation happening the right way.

            When the shadow of the floating island faded into view, his anxiety peaked. He huffed in water between his mandibles and sighed it back out: a habit he picked up from Julia. He had to meet her at some point after watching her for so long, otherwise it would just be creepy. This was inevitable. If he came all this way already, he had to finish his task. Even though he didn’t want to, he focused, and peered into the mindspace again to find her.

            At the same time, Julia wiped away the fog from her mirror with a swipe of the hand to gaze at herself. Her skin was peppered with drops of water, and her hair looked akin to black seaweed. Happily, she took the towel and ruffled her hair dry with it. Then she carefully brushed it, first detangling it, and then smoothly combing her long hair from root to tip. Her mind began to wander— today might be a good day for a walk. There hadn’t been a second storm, so there wouldn’t be debris to clean up.

            As she continued brushing her hair, that familiar blue haze clouded her vision. She smiled, enjoying the way she looked with the blue haze over her body. Yet this time, the blue haze vanished after just a moment, and she could see clearly again.

            Starck’s eyes flew open as his consciousness plummeted right back into his body. His face was on fire— he had never seen Julia without her bodily decorations, and he had a feeling he wasn’t supposed to! But never mind that, he had bigger problems too— She was coming outside, and the same questions that he never answered darted through his mind. Would it be better to surface before she was outside or after? Oh stars, he really didn’t know, it could be a disaster either way.

            Determined, he pursed his lips. He was going to be scared anyway; why wait? With his enormous paddles, he flung them down, propelling himself upward with great force. The shimmering surface of the water drew closer, became bigger, until Starck clenched his eyes shut and felt himself break through the tension of the surface.

            Drops of water cascaded down his scales, off his face, mandibles, and antennae, down to his shoulders. The first thing he sensed was something he had never felt before in his life: wind. It was chilly and fresh, but strangely weaker than the force of water. Softly, it ghosted against his face, but goodness, did it sting when he tried to open his eyes.

            The next thing Starck noticed was his lack of breathing. While he was treading like this, he wasn’t actually moving, and there wasn’t water moving through his gills. Without thinking, he gasped for air through his mouth like Julia would have. Water spilled out from the corners of his lips, still blocking the air from entering his throat. Stubbornly, he used all the strength he could muster from his core and his throat to force the water out. It splashed against the sandy shoreline with the booming sound of a geyser. With his throat finally clear, Starck did his best to open his mouth wide and open his chest, to welcome air into his body. He inhaled. It was dry and sharp, making him painfully aware of the full anatomy of his throat.

            Slowly, he coached himself through the process. Suck air in. Force air out. Breathe in. Breathe out. In, and out. It was difficult, as he had never used these muscles before in his life, but it was clearly possible. Slowly, the fear for his life subsided, and his breathing was reduced to a rhythm. Starck couldn’t believe it— he was breathing with air. He never knew that sea emperors could do such a thing. Perhaps it was something he should have considered before throwing himself up here.

            Back inside, Julia stumble-hopped out of her bedroom doorway, one leg not quite in her jeans yet. What in the world was that booming noise? Had a weakened tree from the storm finally come crashing down onto the earth? It sounded very close. She rushed up to the closest window on the side of her habitat and saw only trees, standing straight and tall. Quickly, she darted to the next window, and saw her exterior growbeds perfectly fine. Next window: nothing out of the ordinary. She swore she heard something loud and terrible!

            Finally she made it to the window beside her front door, overlooking the bay directly in front of her habitat, and her jaw propped open like a nutcracker’s. Outside, something was sticking out of the water: a creature. It floated there, bobbing up and down like a tossed buoy, but apparently gasping for air as if it was drowning. Julia watched as it seemed to stabilize in the water, steadying itself and visibly calming down. Its eyes, glowing a strange cyan, blinked innocently.

            With her own eyes locked on the figure outside, she finally remembered to tug her pants up to her waist. The sensations of touching them, tugging them up, and securing the buttons were totally drowned out by the flaming curiosity flickering in her mind. Never before had a creature surfaced like that before: so clumsily, perhaps even injuring itself in the process. Never had a creature stayed above the water either, so why had this one done so? What if it needed help?

            Determined, Julia hurriedly tugged on her boots and her trusted jacket. She took hold of the front door crank and twisted, ready to remove the only thing separating her and her visitor.