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Title: At the Bottom of the Lake “Fandom:” @kallende-dnd Characters: Seren Swift, Orel Marsk Warnings: Feelings and Emotions Words: 1,332

So I don’t know how, like, canon this is, because we didn’t RP it out in-game and I only asked @rhetoricgrimes for help with one piece of it, so here’s something that may or may not have happened, I guess! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

After the mysterious seal-destroyers had been defeated, Seren slipped away from the others as soon as she could, padding quietly to the lake and sinking beneath its surface. The fresh water did not feel quite like home, but it did feel like releasing a long-held breath. She hadn’t realized until earlier that day, the first time the lake had folded her into its depths, how long it had been since she’d had a decent swim. Even as a crewmember aboard The Shark she had been able to duck beneath the waves at least once a day, but this group covered most of its distance over land. Only now, under the comforting weight of water, was she beginning to understand the toll that was taking.

She curled herself onto the lake’s sandy floor and relished the feeling of her hair billowing weightlessly around her, rather than hanging off her head like so much wet rope. She let her tail be moved by the water’s lazy pushings and pullings, let caressing little ripples brush over her arms as tiny fish whispered their way past. For the first time in a long time, she felt like herself. Even back in her own skin, however, misery clutched her heart like a vise.

She closed her eyes. Why did it have to be Ravi?

They would ask about him, if she went back up there. They’d give her sympathetic little smiles, they’d say they were there if she wanted to talk. And the worst part was that they’d be genuine. They cared about her, this ragtag band of lost things. And in spite of herself -- in spite of everything -- she was beginning to care back.

She pulled her swirling hair down over her face. What a goddamn mess.

“Um. Hey, Seren.”

Seren bolted upright. Orel treaded water awkwardly a few feet to her left, his Necklace of Adaptation forming an air bubble around his head. She snarled at him, and she felt the veneer of her beauty fall away, replaced by shark-black eyes and a mouthful of murderous teeth.

“You have no idea how much I hate that you have that,” she said.

“I’ll leave if you’d rather be alone,” Orel promised, holding both palms out toward her. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. The others were asking after you.”

Seren rolled her eyes and fell back into the sand, crossing her arms beneath her chin.

“Of course they were,” she muttered.

Orel maneuvered himself so that he was seated cross-legged beside her. A moment of silence passed between them before he spoke again.

“I also wanted to thank you,” he said, “for helping me out in that memory thing.”

Seren shrugged.

“No one in their right mind would pull a knife on you,” she said. “‘Cept for me.”

“Why’s that?” Orel teased.

“Why would I pull a knife on you?” Seren asked, in a voice that implied she could alphabetize the reasons if he’d like.

Orel chuckled.

“Why wouldn’t anyone else?” he clarified.

“You’re trying to trick me into saying something nice,” Seren admonished him.

“It was worth a shot,” Orel conceded with a grin. Another silence passed between them, shorter than the first. “Do you want me to go?” he asked.

Part of her did. Part of her wanted to lie here until the sand covered her completely -- until she no longer knew where the lake ended and she began.

But part of her was lonely, and had been for months.

“You don’t have to,” she said, “if you don’t want.”

Orel nodded, seeming to weigh that response.

“Okay,” he said. “I think I’ll stay for a little while, then, if you really don’t mind.”

Seren nodded back.

“Okay,” she said.

For a long time, that was all. The current tugged affectionately at Seren’s hair, rolled through Orel’s rusty fur like wind through wheat. Snakes murmured goodnights to each other somewhere beyond sight, and the faintest bits of sunset shivered and blurred through the surface of the water.

“That Dorian guy seemed cool,” Seren said at last, smirking when Orel jumped a little from his meditation.

“Yeah,” Orel replied, his mouth quirking into half a grin. “He was.”

“What was he like?” Seren asked, shifting so that she faced Orel more squarely. “You know, when he wasn’t shanking people.”

Orel chuckled, but it took him some time to answer. Seren watched the gold in his eyes as he sifted carefully through the words in his head.

“He was… good,” he said finally. “Or maybe better put, he was beyond good and bad. He was almost a part of nature itself, or at least its unfolding. But the kinder parts of that, if that makes sense. And by some… by some ability, he helped you be a part of that, too.”

Orel looked up, then, at the light filtering through the waves.

“He was the moon reflected on a lake,” he said, smiling a little. “Or the wind through grass: so gentle you did not see or hear him, yet making the world more beautiful.”

He glanced back down at Seren, and then looked quickly away, as if remembering who he was talking to and fearing he’d said too much.

“He was good,” he said again.

Seren smiled.

“Seems like it,” she agreed.

“Yeah,” Orel said.

He cut another glance toward her, thoughts flickering through his eyes again.

“What about Ravi?” he asked. “What was he like?”

The ache in Seren’s chest tightened, and for a moment she didn’t think she’d be able to answer. She turned away from Orel and began stirring clouds into the sand with her forefinger while she waited for the pain to subside.

“It’s funny,” she said, slowly, “in a lot of ways, he was kind of the opposite. Of Dorian, I mean. All huge and loud and crass. He took up all kinds of space, you know, he -- he insisted himself into your life. And I should have hated that, but somehow I didn’t. Somehow, we just. Went together. We could stay up all night, the two of us. Just sitting up in the rigging and talking.”

She was quiet for a moment.

“He’d have liked you,” she said.

When Orel didn’t answer right away, Seren looked up, and she was surprised to catch a glint of mischief in his face.

“Was that a compliment?” he asked.

“Don’t let it go to your bubble,” Seren said, flicking her tail so that a ripple ran through the Necklace of Adaptation’s air pocket. Orel laughed.

“Nah. I won’t,” he said. His gaze softened, then, and he gave her tail a gentle nudge. “Thank you, though. For all of that. I know it’s not easy for you to talk about.”

Seren shrugged.

“You started it,” she said. “So thank you, too, I guess.”

Another companionable silence settled between them. The current pushed Seren’s tail up against Orel’s knee, and Seren didn’t pull it back.

Finally, she said, “You should probably get going. I don’t think land-dwellers are supposed to stay down here this long, even with fancy necklaces. You’re gonna get all pruny.”

“You’re probably right,” Orel agreed, squinting up at the surface, which had now gone mostly dark. “Do you want me to tell the party anything?”

Seren shook her head.

“Just tell them I’m okay,” she said.

“Are you?” he asked.

No, Seren thought. There was still a part of her that wanted to disappear; a gouged-out place inside her that would never fully heal. Misery still had its vise-grip on her heart -- but it would have been a lie to say it hadn’t loosened somewhat.

She pushed herself up into a sitting position.

“No,” she replied, “but I’m a little better.”

And before she could think herself out of it, she let her head fall onto his shoulder.

“Thanks, Orel,” she said.

A moment passed, and then Seren felt Orel’s air bubble mold itself between them as he pressed his head to hers.

“You’re welcome, Seren.”

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