Dream Deep
A/N: A little bit of terrifying Sea God Rafayel, as a treat.
'Cutieeee…' The nickname is haunting and drawn out, surrounding you as though you were in water, carried in the air and curling around you. 'I know you've been avoiding me… that's enough now. Walk to the sea, be welcomed by the water. Come into my arms…'
You wake with a gasp, cold like your head breaking the surface of a black ocean. He'd been there again, in your dreams. His melodic, dangerous voice drew you in as it always did, soft and gentle until you were close, then chilling as a riptide.
The draw is impossible to ignore. You dress in the dark, lit only by the moon still high, and venture outside. As though entranced, you traverse concrete and sand, kick off your shoes at the shore's edge and step in, the pull raising gooseflesh on your skin.
'Devotion is hard to come by these days,' says the singsong voice again. 'But that was almost too easy, cutie.' A stirring before you catches your eye, a split second, and then a hand is grasping your ankle and pulling you under. In the midnight blue, the man- the thing- that had you glowed. Bioluminscence in stripes of lightning blue mark his torso, his scales like tiny sparks across his face, his eyes burning with the same intense, ethereal glow. With a sharp flick of his powerful tail, he draws you further down. 'Can you feel it?' He grins, teeth sharp. 'The crush of water? It could snuff you out.' He yanks you closer, long purple hair haloed in the current, sweeping the curve of his shoulders. 'If I wanted. But lucky for you,' he croons, drawing you in with a strong inexorable hand on the back of your neck, 'I want you to live.'
You fight the urge to gasp, to let in water, but it is impossible not to when your lungs burn and his lips are at your pulse, sharklike teeth biting down. Freezing pressure snakes into your nose, curls at the back of your throat, and now there is blood in the water. Your eyes widen. The sharks will come. A frenzy.
This creature laughs beautifully, amused by your terror. 'Don't worry, cutie. I won't let them take you.' His tongue soothes the bite. 'They wouldn't dare.'
You can't relax. The look in his eye sends a roil of anxiety through your stomach, closing your throat. But you can breathe. You should've drowned already, and yet this terrible miracle before you has convinced the very ocean to stay its fury and allow you to tresspass, even if only for a little while.
Still, you can't speak.
'So sorry,' he says, not sounding sorry at all. 'But you can't go back. Not yet.' His hands tighten around you, and he drags you down into the deep.
