#scalesong

[kerowrites]

She'd heard tales her whole life; from Rook, from sailors in taverns. But never had Neve seen one before, especially not so close. Were all of them so gorgeous, so enticing? She found it hard to pull her eyes away at all.

"And you," the mermaid said, her tone all disgust, "are trespassing."

A second of silence passed between them, then Neve said, "Well, that's unfair. I was invited aboard—"

"In my room!"

Oh, right! Neve scrambled to her feet, her bag forgotten at the floor, and gave an awkward little wave. "Look, I don't want to get off on the wrong foot or anything…" She glanced to the wash basin; do mermaids have feet? Under the scales? They have something like legs, because Neve never could stop looking at them in drawings, but where feet should be, they just kind of morph into fins. "Um. Anyway—I'm Neve. Corran."

No answer. Neve looked away from the tub and upwards, upwards, until she was looking into her beautiful blue eyes again.

It was no mystery why she was aboard. Riggs liked pretty things, and this was the prettiest Neve had ever seen.

"Alune," the woman said. Was there anything not beautiful about her? Even her name had Neve's heart in her throat. "I would like you to leave now."

"But—but I just met you! And I have so many questions!"

Alune's eyes danced with something like irritation, something else like amusement. "Do you make it a habit to come into someone's home and hardass them about their lives?"

"Well… no. Usually if I come into someone's home, they won't know I'm there."

Which was the wrong thing to say. Neve never was good with pretty girls. "Out. Now."

And her bag went flying against the door. Something inside cracked and splintered. Probably lessened the value, but Neve found she didn't care.

Neve steps towards the door, and her now-ruined haul, before Alune can decide whether Neve should be next. "Can I come back?"

"I will decide."

"How will I know your decision?"

"You will know, Neve Corran."

- Scalesong, ch2

[kerowrites]

Neve rolled to her back, swept the mud and muck from her face and heaved a sigh at the above stars. The street lanterns had been lit hours ago, and the few shops that littered the alleys had long since been closed, but the tavern was lively as it always was, raucous with song and laughter. Not for the first time, Neve was one of its temporary-permanent patrons—was being the telling word, as she'd earned an express ticket to the stables by starting a fight with the locals. Again.

She got to her feet, the taste of dirt on her tongue and a familiar ringing in her ears, and frowned up at the tavern. Though she didn't have much to her name, what little she did have was still upstairs in room three, tucked beneath the bed frame. The barmaid had taken her key when she'd thrown Neve out, and Neve hadn't thought to make a duplicate.

Lucky for her the tavern didn't have many stories, then. Three floors and an attic for the barkeep.

Unlucky for her, the mud would leave a clear line up the side of the white-washed tavern just who scaled the building to retrieve their belongings from room three.

The mud on her boots would make the climb a bit slippery, but never let it be said Neve didn't have sticky fingers.

- Scalesong, ch1