As a little girl, Elodie never dreamed of being a mermaid like so many of her peers. She was afraid of deep water and sharks, always sticking to the shallows or the beach itself. How could she have known her eventual fate? On vacation swimming over a reef she wasn’t comfortable around, with coworkers she didn’t even really like, she’s bitten by something she can’t describe. What follows is a more hellish week of her life than she could have ever anticipated even in her worst nightmares. Itching, scale like rashes. Strange developments of webbed flesh. Slowly drying out, no matter how much she drank or bathed. The dreams of so many others became her horrible reality in a harrowing fight for her life. The loss of her job, her apartment, her legs.
An animation of when Fiore and Wheedle first met! It's based on their first interaction I wrote out in an attempt to figure out how their dynamic would work. Since initially they'd both be vying for the crowd's attention, there would be some passive aggression and competitive behavior going on. You can read it below:
It's Saturday, once again. At this point, Fiore had the routine down to a science. Today, however, something new was happening in old Mistria. After giving the room a proper once-over to confirm she didn't forget anything, she slammed the door and headed off towards town.
It was a brisk walk to the square. The sun hadn't risen quite yet, and the dew on the grass dampened her shoes. But she had to make sure she set up as early as possible for full capitalization.
Fiore was a busker on Saturdays. It's something she took pride in and found quite a bit of joy doing. If you were to ask her, and she felt like being honest in that particular moment, she'd say that she hates farming. She prefers to leave that to her roommate, Rena. But Saturdays, that's when she could really put her skillset to good use.
But today was a different kind of Saturday. Today is the day new visitors arrive to Mistria. They had already set up, in fact. In her turf, no less… She placed her rug down in its usual spot, smoothing out the corners with her foot. On top of it was a bowl, front and center. Afterwards, Fiore surveys her new competition. The blonde one has an outdoor kitchen set up. His body language has a je ne sais quoi aura about him, but he looks overall non-threatening. A deep wrinkle between his eyebrows is present, implying he furrows them quite a bit. He might be fun to mess with at some point. She turns to look at the other one, and she grimaces. His stall and attire are very elaborate, to say the least. He caws at passersby like an old crow, easily drawing in curious eyes to his wares. … He might be a problem.
The two of them lock eyes for a moment. Followed by Fiore looking away, her back turning to him once more. She didn't turn around to look at him after that, because she didn't need to. His flamboyant suit and elaborate stall… it bothered her, because she knew exactly what she was dealing with. His gaze on her remained for a moment before turning back to a customer, a crooked smile plastered on his lips.
Throughout the day, Fiore could feel his eyes burning holes into her back. It's not like he had much else to look at due to the placement of the stalls and her own setup, but it still irritated her. She had been practicing a new routine for a while, which she was debuting today. But her focus was off, and she felt as if her act was too sloppy. The reactions from her viewers were more or less the same as always, but the feeling of being watched all day by an un-paying onlooker… It got to her!
As the sun began to set and the townspeople wandered their way down the road, Fiore started to roll up her rug. It was another successful Saturday, all things considered. Perhaps the new vendors would be enough to drive more traffic her way. … Cautiously, she turned her head just enough to glance at that crow of a man. He seemed preoccupied with packing up his stall.
Fiore stood at his stall, waiting for him to turn around. She could hear him happily humming a tune to himself. It took everything in her to not speak up right then to stop that humming. When he turned around, he still had that crooked grin across his face. He noticeably stiffened when they locked eyes again, but he no sooner relaxed his body.
"Busker girl." He acknowledged her. "Here to look over my wares finally? I'm afraid I've already started packing them up!" His tone of voice was teasing, as if he already knew why she was there.
"Any tips?" She asked expectantly.
He looked at her, his head cocked to the side ever so slightly. 'Tips?' it looked like he wanted to say. His smirk remained.
"You have observed me all day, yet you haven't even tipped me. What horrible etiquette."
"'Horrible etiquette'?" He scoffs. "Such a harsh accusation! I'm a gentleman." He does a small flourish with his hand. "I was preoccupied with customers - real customers - today. I had no time to sit around and stare."
Based on his attitude, Fiore could only assume this one was the fabled Wheedle. Everyone in town seemed to have a reaction when his name would be brought up. He was certainly getting a reaction out of her.
"Wheedle, by the way. You know, if you're a stickler for niceties." He sticks his hand out towards her face.
Fiore stares at his extended hand for a moment, and then raises her head in defiance. He has a pinky ring, because of course he does. She looks back up at his face, where it looks like he's daring her to shake his hand. She grips his hand reluctantly - as if it was something unclean - but then shakes it firmly. "Fiore."
Wheedle will admit, he was surprised that she decided to take his hand. It was mostly just to mess with her, but he decided to give her a good handshake regardless. He's a gentleman, after all. "Pleasure." He quips. "I'm sure we'll be running into each other quite a bit. Unless you were only out here today to capitalize on a renowned salesman gracing your little town."
Oooh, he knows just how to get under her skin. "Make no mistake. I have been set up right here every Saturday for the last year. We shall be seeing each other quite often."
They stare at each other, handshake still going. They both seem to be more focused on the conversation than the handshake.
Wheedle's smile widens, and it looks as if he's trying not to laugh. "I look forward to it!"
