status: closed for @islamarin location: the mermaid museum
It seemed that the hippocampi all had their ‘own’ mermaid rulers - the one they were soft for, their weakness. Not Isidore, no. Isidore had found his humans; but even in Assyria, he’d found himself more enamored but the sirens when they came to be. Their sheer determination to survive. It reminded him much of humans, especially lately. Humans did everything with their whole heart in it; determined to enjoy as much of their short lives as possible.
Isla was one of Mike’s mermaids. Isidore remembered this, but as far as his brothers mermaid charges went… he didn’t mind Isla, not in the slightest. A mermaid with her head in the clouds, hypothetically, was better company to Isidore than someone with their eyes set on politics and the endless pursuit of answers. Always, always hunting… and frankly, Isidore was exhausted. Just plain exhausted. Single-handedly, he had managed to let down everyone he knew, human and merfolk alike. For this reason, he’d been less than social ever since right around Christmas time, but he was going stir crazy at home, and, well, the inn and the cafe were both (temporarily, he hoped dearly) off-limits. With his secrets spilled to his closest friends, there wasn’t much else for the hippocampi to do on a chilly January afternoon but take a walk to the museum.
Funny, he hardly ever visited there - for so long, he’d ran from his past, and somehow, now, he found a strange comfort within it. And apparently, he wasn’t the only one. Or, perhaps, Isla was just curiously exploring. Either way, he found in him the ache of loneliness, and a friend of his brother’s was a friend of his, purely by association. “I do not know about you, but I am finding some of these ‘legends’ to be quite amusing,” He spoke quietly, no smile in place, but an expression that gave off the hint of amusement. Rightly so; the museum was full of junk, claiming to have been once owned by beautiful mermaids, or stories of ships sunk by jealous lovers of the sea. None, of his awareness, were rooted in sort of fact, which defeated the whole purpose of a museum. “Particularly the one there, about the mermaid who swallowed a rock so she may sink to the bottom of the ocean, due to a broken heart.” He pointed to the old text, clearly fictional, and the plaque beside it boasting of it’s authencity.
