GINGERPILOT WEEK, DAY 1 - MERFOLK
Poe Dameron sat alone at a large round table littered with half-empty flutes and plates stained with icing and crumbs. The laughter and music of couples in love surrounded and suffocated him.
Ben danced with his bride, Rey. Finn swayed with his girlfriend, Rose. Even Ben's ancient Uncle Chewie and Aunt Maz took a turn around the floor, defying their ages.
Han and Leia, Kaydel and Jannah, Snap and Jessika, Luke and Din. Everybody under the tent overlooking the oceanfront had somebody, except Poe.
Poe had a table full of champagne glasses, abandoned when the DJ called out all the couples to dance.
He picked three at random, drained them, and stood.
"If anybody asks, I'm getting some air," he told a server in passing. Nobody would ask, of course. This night wasn't about him, and had Ben not asked Poe to be his best man he'd have avoided it altogether.
The restaurant hosting the reception opened out to a narrow fishing dock ending several yards into the sea. It was closed to the public tonight because of the wedding, but Poe saw no harm in walking out to admire the view. Slow steps in tight dress shoes brought him to calm, dark waters layered in waving moonlight. The view stretched out forever, with only two lampposts on either side of the dock to guide his vision.
He saw sharp shadows in the distance and guessed dolphins. Even they traveled in pairs.
"Everybody's got somebody," Poe said, and sighed. Sitting on the edge of the dock, he swung his feet and grazed one patent leather toe across the water's surface. Yeah, forget about losing this borrowed pair of Louboutins in the event of a shoelace mishap.
He removed the shoes and socks, set them aside, and felt the insides of his suit coat pockets for Ben's cigarettes. He didn't smoke, but it was late and he was alone and miserable so why not match a new hobby to his mood?
No lighter, he realized after jamming a wrinkled filter between his lips. "Fuck," he muttered around the cigarette, and stared down at his bare feet. That's when he saw it.
A pale face crowned in ginger hair turned gold by the lamppost, looked up at him from the water. Smooth and unblinking, lips pursed as though to speak, eyes glowing and turning a curious stare.
Cute, and obviously a bit weird to be night swimming.
Poe waved the cigarette at him. "I don't suppose you have a lighter on you?" he asked.
Ginger shook his head. Behind him, something wide and flat broke the surface and Poe scooted back, thinking at first a large hungry fish had come to claim his new friend. The giant fin rose high above the young man, showing off a bit of iridescent orange and red in its connected body.
Poe's eyes hurt from how they widened. He dropped the cigarette and it floated for two seconds before disappearing into the dark.
"Is that..." He looked at the man. "Are you?"
The fin lowered as Ginger shot his arms high above his head. He sprang for the edge of the deck and hoisted himself upward, allowing Poe to see him in full. A merman. An honest to Force, ginger-gold merman was flopping onto the deck beside him like it was a common occurrence.
Poe looked back at the restaurant, where couples danced and laughed and didn't acknowledge his absence. He locked gazes with the merman, whose expression appeared friendly. Poe couldn't be certain. Merfolk, sirens, lead people to their deaths.
"Nice to meet you, buddy," he said, reaching for the shoes, "but I just remembered I have to drive my pal home. He's... drunk." Maybe I am, too. Poe decided it safer to be drunk further inland.
He backed further away, unaware he'd shifted direction to get away from the merman. He reached behind him and felt air, then tilted downward.
He was falling into the ocean.
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