Thank you to everyone who liked the first chapter of Stem the Tide! This chapter serves as a caretaking interlude from Kharis’s POV, with a little bit of lore through a flashback. I had a lot of fun writing that first scene; it’s really cool from a worldbuilding perspective. Look out for a new canon drabble tomorrow as well! Enjoy~
Also, I made a playlist of songs that inspired Stem the Tide and have helped to conceptualize its characters! You can check it out here.
CW: war flashbacks, loss of autonomy, fear, implied past abuse, but after we get through that it’s just straight caretaking dw, specifically hair brushing!, nonhuman characters, lady whumpee
Word Count: ~2000
12 years ago. The final days of The War of Land and Sea.
The last thing Kharis remembered was a tsunami overtaking their small coastal town near the Luatali Jungle, and a resulting magical numbness that lasted gods know how long. Then, all at once, it came back.
They were on the battlefield…when had they joined the navy? Cannons were firing and soldiers dropped like flies.
Kharis flinched back, still gripping a sword they didn’t know they owned until thirty seconds ago. Blood had splattered across the blade. Their fellow soldiers were screaming, cries of confusion and panic at their unexpected surroundings. Someone was shouting to surrender, that they had to find a white flag.
When the cannonfire ceased, the two sides came together. The adventurers who had “freed them” explained that the entire war had been a trick, orchestrated by an aberration capable of mass enslavement and mind control. They had been used as puppets for war.
Some soldiers took it well. Or, as well as they could considering the circumstances. They quickly mourned the decades of life they lost and returned to their former lives.
Others didn’t. Kharis’s entire family had been affected by the mind control, and most of them had either died or gone crazy in the aftermath. They were restless, moving from town to town in search of something that stuck, but nothing ever did. Despite the proven involvement of a higher power, formerly enslaved soldiers were still being tracked down and put on trial.
After The War, the oceans opened back up once the Aquans had no need for defensive maneuvers, and created a region ripe for exploration. And, eventually, plunder. If the Islands wanted everything to go back to normal despite the unprecedented circumstances, then Kharis had to make some kind of plan to leave. It was only a matter of time before they gave into their restless side. So, they left the Alari Islands forever to pursue a life of piracy.
-
Present Day
Kharis knocks three times on their cabin door, “Hey, I’m comin’ in, alright?”
The mermaid Kharis had rescued only hours ago chirps in acknowledgement from the other side, and the wooden door creaks open. Right now, Nereia is sitting on the floor of Kharis and their closest crewmate, Shrew’s, cabin. She still looks terrified from her “escape” attempt earlier today (her words, not theirs), her hair tangled and hanging in clumps over half of her face. She has so many bruises and infections that need to be looked at, but if Kharis learned anything from their time in the War, it’s that too much too fast can be overwhelming.
“I brought you some food. We mostly eat fish out of convenience, but I managed to find a few plantains and oranges in the storage cabin.”
Nereia furrows her brows at Kharis’s words, but her webbed ears perk up when she sees the plate in their hands. She stares at it longingly. Kharis holds the plate out, and the mermaid takes it without hesitation. She immediately reaches for the plantains, digging in and smiling in appreciation.
“So I’m having my friend, Shrew, bring down the crew’s shared bathtub. We can fill it up with some fresh water and start your swimming lessons next time we dock.”
Nereia tilts her head in confusion, her mouth stuffed full of plantains. Her eyes still don’t make contact, “Don’t understand, sorry.” Kharis had almost forgotten about the language barrier. It was certainly posing a challenge to their communication, but Kharis had made it this far, hadn’t they?
“It’s alright--Hold on, slow down,” Kharis chuckles when Nereia tries to shovel another bite into her mouth, “We don’t want you to get sick.”
Nereia nods in response, her cheeks puffed out with how much food she had stored in them. After she finishes what she already has, she begins to eat again, albeit much slower. “Sorry.”
Kharis sighs. They just want the mermaid to be comfortable, not walking on eggshells. “You don’t have to be sorry. We’re just trying to make you feel better, okay?”
They were going to have to figure out some way to communicate, because Captain Sybil was too busy to serve as a permanent interpreter. Kharis would have to ask Nereia to teach them some Aquan eventually. But their first priority was making her feel safe and proving that The Marauders were nothing like the pirates that held her before. Eye contact should be the first step, once they get her needs met.
“I’m going to go get you some water, okay? Keep eating, I’ll be back.” Kharis’s wording seems to be simple enough, because Nereia nods in understanding. Kharis leaves to meet Shrew.
By the time Kharis and Shrew return to the cabin, Nereia has moved on from the plantains to the bread rolls. The tub, especially when full, needs at least two pairs of hands to carry it. The two pirates set it down carefully, the saltwater rippling in response.
Kharis carefully helps Nereia into the crew’s tub. Instead of the wooden oval one they found Nereia in, this one is deeper and more round. Her previous captors’ bathtub had forced her to rest her fin over the edge with how little she could curl up. At least this one will allow her to submerge her entire tail.
“I hope the water feels good enough.”
“Thank you,” she mutters, sinking so that the water reaches her gills. “It is clean. And big. Feels very nice.”
Kharis hates that Nereia’s idea of “big” and “clean” is a moderately sized bathtub with fresh seawater in it. They knew that keeping her here on the ship was akin to what those other pirates did, but they had to remind themself that she could barely swim as-is. Who knows what sea monster or greedy land-dweller would find her alone and injured? Maybe Kharis can get their hands on a larger tub or tank from some merchant ship. Then Nereia will at least be able to stretch out until she can leave on her own.
Kharis walks into the hallway with Shrew to thank him for his help, and their closest friend looks at Nereia with a flash of pity. He offers Kharis a supportive pat on the back and says in a hushed voice, “Do you want me to tell Sibyl for you?”
“I’m sure she already knows,” Kharis muses, “But yeah, maybe you should…I think she should meet her tomorrow morning.”
Shrew gives him that look. The one with raised eyebrows and an incredulous expression that says “you’re way in over your head, so don’t set your expectations too high.” Kharis rolls their eyes in response.
“Nereia doesn’t understand much Alman, so communication has been a little difficult.” Kharis keeps their voice hushed, despite the fact that Nereia would barely understand him anyways. The last thing Kharis wants is for the mermaid to think that they’re another cruel pirate that sees her as a prisoner. Or worse, a burden.
“But I can make it work. Make her feel at least a little bit safe again, right?” Nobody was there to make Kharis feel safe after they came back to themself. Kharis didn’t deserve that, and Nereia definitely doesn’t deserve whatever she has gone through to make her so injured. So Kharis would return the favor that they never received. “She deserves that much.”
-
Later that evening, Kharis offers Nereia a change of clothes. Her previous shirt looked more like rags, and there were definitely some spare shirts lying around the ship. One of Kharis’s old tunics would work for now, and even though they outgrew it years ago, the supposedly form-fitting shirt is far too big on the mermaid. Her arms are thin and bony, where they should have filled out the quarter-length sleeves.
The pirates who held her captive had clearly not taken good care of her. Kharis has heard stories of tyrannical pirates who take “trophies” in the form of sentient beings who don’t look like your typical humanoid. They typically keep them pretty, as the shining treasure of their ship. If Nereia was treated this way, then what did they see her as? A punching bag? Kharis doesn’t want to think about the details, shaking their head and coming back to the present.
Nereia combs through the ends of her hair absentmindedly, staring through the porthole with tired eyes. Beyond it, the ocean stretches for hundreds of miles, and the sun has just begun to disappear over the horizon. Her arms rest on the edge of the tub, and she watches the window as if it’s a play. As Kharis stirs, she sits up and faces them. A knotted clump of hair falls over the left side of her face.
Kharis remembers the supplies they had retrieved earlier. “Would you like to brush your hair? It looks a little tangled, and I brought in a few things to help you feel more clean,” The half elf mimes brushing their own hair, and the mermaid’s eyes widen in appreciation. She nods, understanding his attempt at charades more than the Alman itself.
“Okay, would you like to do it yourself?” Kharis grabs the spare hairbrush from a nearby table and offers it to the mermaid. “I also have some detangling oil to help make it smoother.” Nereia looks confused again, reaching for the brush with trembling hands. “Or, I could do it for you, if that would be easier.”
Nereia takes a moment to process the words, and then offers the hairbrush back to Kharis. Her eyes move downcast, seemingly embarrassed.
“It’s alright. One step at a time.” Kharis assures her. They grab a bottle of Argan oil, and lather a few drops of it on their fingers. After taking a seat behind the tub, they gently begin to comb through the ends of Nereia’s hair, and she stiffens at the slight pulling. Kharis stops, “How does it feel? Please, tell me if it hurts.”
The mermaid shakes her head and whispers over her shoulder, “No, you keep going.”
The half-elf continues to work at some of the more stubborn tangles, and the mermaid leans into the bristles as they softly massage her scalp. Kharis wonders whether this is the first kind touch Nereia has felt in a long time. With the bruises on her arm and fearful furrowing of her brows, Kharis doubts that her former captors were ever gentle.
They finish combing out most of the knots with argan oil and separate Nereia’s long, curly, teal-colored hair into two sections. They do a double-take. Multiple red welts the same size as cigar butts litter the back of her neck. Some are old, but others look frighteningly fresh. The ship’s surgeon would definitely have to look at her wounds; maybe they had some burn cream or disinfectant. That and her tail, which continues to shed scales around where the chain had been and appears red in patches.
Kharis tries their best to brush through each section from the bottom up without touching the cigar burns. Once Nereia’s hair is detangled, the half elf weaves her newly soft hair into one braid.
“Better?”
Nereia nods meekly as Kharis ties off the end of the braid with a ribbon. Despite her reluctance to make eye contact, the half elf can see the newfound life in her eyes. It’s amazing what a healthy meal, clean environment, and personal grooming can do for someone who has been denied it for so long.
Nereia’s eyes flick over to the single porthole in their cabin, and Kharis sees the stars beginning to stand out from the inky sky. It was getting late.
The half elf moves to stand “Get some rest, and we can talk to our Captain,” noticing her tense at the word “Captain,” Kharis adds, “you can call her Sybil, alright? Most of the crew does, anyway.” Nereia nods hesitantly, and Kharis thinks it’s probably a good time to change the subject. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
After thirty seconds of silence, Nereia mutters a meek “No, thank you.”
Kharis doesn’t think that’s true, but they won’t press. “Okay, well I’ll be in the next room over, just call out if you want anything. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she fiddles with the torn hem of her shirt, “thank you.”
“Okay, you can blow out the candle whenever you want,” Kharis moves to the door and takes one last look at the mermaid sitting in their cabin. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Next time on Stem the Tide: Nereia finally meets the mysterious Three-Legged Sybil. Kharis tries to learn some Aquan.
Stem the Tide taglist: @annablogsposts @worstcasescenariolullaby @i-can-even-burn-salad (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!)
It's been a while since I've made art for my world The Reaching Isles!
Finally a proper reference and updated design for Kia! Her eyelashes are now more visible :oD and she now also has a reference for her expressions, even if mild.
A concept for what Tinker might look like as an adult! He's part of a ravenous species that lived millions of years ago... Not much is known of them in The Reaching Isles outside what some fossilised bones can tell about their diet, but in this world they're basically seen as Terrifying as the T-Rex of our world! They've never found a juvenile specimen though, so for now Tinker is still hard to identify as this monstrous species.
Meet Fiffa Tinmur, palaeontologist and professor of the passed sciences! He's a type of brine shrimp! Fiffa is an eccentric little guy with the same youthful passion for palaeontology he had when he was just a little nauplii. Although his first instinct is to stick up for the little guys, he can easily be persuaded to a morally dubious side with his interest in fossils and remnants of the past.
Tinker and Kia doodles. I image them becoming best friends and having a funny predator/prey bond. Like, Tinker being this creature that COULD eat her if they wanted, but the funny thing being that they're way more soft than Kia and Kia always being bold and teasing them in a light-hearted way.
