#acolyte's stories: meryl and diosia

[aphroditesacolyte]

Meryl and Diosia P27

Ch 27. // Know Me Now // Read on AO3

Masterpost

Summary: Meryl and Diosia meet once more, and Meryl has questions at hand.

Content warnings: Dubious morals/uncertainty regarding if life has value, magic bs/immortality bs/fake god bs, profanity, please read at your own discretion, thank you!

~Approx word count: 1,900 words

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Surrealism had wrapped its teeth about Meryl’s life ever since the day Diosia had returned, the day he had whisked him away and loved him in the most grotesque of ways, and by means that he could still not comprehend—means he knew he would not be forgiven for indulging. It shattered his sense of safety, making him feel as if although he swam alive and well, he might truly be dead. That was the bizarre feeling that berated him, like the feeling of walking through a ghost town in broad daylight, passing by odd grey spirits on the way. The days did not feel quite real nor right anymore.

But Meryl had no clue how to fix it, so he floated along, quietly, aimlessly. At night his mind feigned Diosia’s call, his dreams falling in line with his hedonistic self, his yearning for pleasure, for love. Diosia’s sensuality seduced him completely, and his gentle, glimmering smile won over his heart. If it were a siren’s enchantment, it must have been eternal now, for he was sure he’d forever be drawn to him and his tricks. And in feigning these tricks, where he was so certain Diosia’s breath caressed his neck, and his sweet purr filled his ears, he began to abandon all else.

He ached for Diosia. His body was sore and bruised without the healing of his touch, the yearning of his soul becoming a yearning of his person, the lemures of a siren’s embrace tracing his form and if not phantoms against the skin, it was other curses. His pining was misplaced; it transfixed itself on what was forbidden, and not only forbidden, but dangerous. Yet there Meryl was, longing for the embrace of a predator, a creature that consumed his kind.

And he hated to admit it, but he knew that this embrace he longed for would likely come with teeth.

And maybe he was okay with that.

At peace with it, one might say. He was so very comfortable with it that he swam at night along the shoreline’s edge, almost begging to be caught, but too scared to throw himself directly into the lion’s den. For days, he figured he’d be taken—after all, what else would Diosia do? All he knew of Diosia was what he had done, and these quiet nights were hardly like him at all from what he had seen. From the mere glimpse he had seen. Perhaps, Meryl then reasoned, he didn’t know enough about Diosia to truly predict how he felt.

It made his closeness all the more of an invited threat to his life; thinking he could tame a monster, a creature, a person beyond his comprehension, or that he could amend everything sick and twisted about a pretty stranger. It was a grave mistake. It was gutting to think of knowing what Diosia had originally planned. It was gutting to think of knowing how much he poured out about himself, and how little he had received in return. He had received superficial gestures, ways Diosia made his prey quaint and compliant, and still felt so deeply attached. But then came the tears, the regret, the confusion and confliction Diosia so clearly felt. Diosia was lost. Meryl felt just the same.

What was he supposed to make of his feelings and situation? He loved Diosia. There were times it felt like he’d never be alive without him, and times where the realization dawned that he might only still breathe because Diosia had not come to him again since that night. Did Diosia love him? If he didn’t, why was he still alive?

…if he did, Meryl knew it was no perfect love. It couldn’t be. There would always be a disbalance between them, their dynamic skewed in Diosia’s favour—A person who had proved himself to not exactly be fully sane. But if there was something there aside from his own dreams, wasn’t it worth pursuing?  What it wasn’t worth was mulling it over in his mind anymore. He was done swimming in frozen waters, trapped in time. So, he darted out of the safety of his home, and into the lion’s den at last.

It wasn’t the sight he expected at all; there should’ve been bones strewn about, carcasses and ugly gore decorating the ground that sat along the shore, just out of reach of the beratement of waves. But it was just as pretty as it always had been. The moon and stars made for a fine lantern, their white teardrops luminescent in nature, trailing and spilling along the smooth stone that Diosia rested upon, where all of his collection glistened and shone in a charmingly out-of-place extravagance. Diosia too, seemed out of place: His eyes were closed, his wings folded, but still arcing over his head as if they were a fine gate to heaven—he looked like an angel.

“Who is it?” Diosia asked, softly.

The voice sent chills up his spine.

“It’s me, Meryl.”

Diosia perked up with a soft, subtle tilt of his head, his eyes fluttering open to reveal pupils wide and curious, taken aback, in their own way. His gaze was always half-lidded as it flicked down in Meryl’s direction, but the regard that such a gaze held him with was lacking its usual malice; that could very well be his own misinterpretation of the siren, though.

“I am surprised to see you here.” Diosia beckoned him closer, a sharp smile on his face. “Come, sit with me, then. I’d imagine you want to talk.”

Meryl pulled himself out of the water, his scales brushing against the stone as he came to Diosia’s side, his tail then curling in with hesitance. He watched the siren carefully, warily, but with a beating admiration in his heart all the same.

“How... how are you, Diosia?”

“I’ve asked myself the same since a few nights ago, you know. It is odd, Meryl, to believe you have obtained everything you wanted, and then realize it is not what you wanted at all.”

“So, you don’t want me dead?”

“I do.” Diosia whipped his head over, looking Meryl in the eyes. “A part of me does. I do know that. My body screams at me to kill you every hour.”—Meryl could not recoil, as much as the thought wracked his body, he was tied to Diosia—“But I find myself dreaming of silence, a time without the constant crackle of instincts and depraved desires, that sound I’ve so often indulged.

I’d rather not hear out what my bloodlust seeks. Not this time.”

Meryl gave a cautious whisper, “So, what you mean is that you won’t kill me, even if you want to?”

“I will... provide my best efforts, yes.”

His head swam with confusion—with disbelief in what Diosia said. What sort of sick game was he playing now, of contradiction and blatant malevolence?

“Provide your best efforts,” Meryl echoed, offendedly. “Why the hell is there a part of you that wants me dead at all?”

“I am a siren, Meryl.” The words were spoken through gritted teeth, his agitation punctuated in his tone.

“And I’m aware of that, but when I look at species that I would eat, I am not filled with an insatiable bloodlust. It doesn’t even make me hungry, unless I was hungry already, Diosia.”

“Well,” Diosia haughtily replied, “You are very lucky to experience such normalcy, little mer. It is almost as if your species was not divined by a malefic god intent upon the ruin of man and the destruction of all that he loathed.”

“You can be better than your god, Diosia.”

“It is not my fault that a god incorporated such bloodlust into my very being. It’s a physical sensation, Meryl. It is not just a feeling, it is unforgivably tangible, like hunger or arousal. It is very compelling.”

He stared agape, shocked both in part by the threat, and by the truth. Especially the truth. It was uncanny to the Diosia he knew, to snap at him with such honesty.

Diosia thrummed on, his voice deepening to match a threatening melody, “I suppose that even if your kind know very well how to drive spears through our most tender parts, they may have not taken much care to research anything else about us.”

Meryl’s nerves were fraught. His mind rushed with images of waters turned crimson, of the limp and lifeless body of Naigale sinking helplessly, hopelessly, to the bottom of their grave, and in time, lesson after lesson, and disappearance after disappearance, reminded him of everything that sirens had ever done to his kind. There once was research, there once was knowledge, cities beneath the waves, libraries and tomes brimming with tales and truths, and all these societies were desecrated beyond retrieval and repair by sirens. It was the way sirens had treated merfolk as food that led them to treat sirens as monsters.

“I have taken plenty of care to learn about you. I’ve tried so damn hard, and every time you’ve avoided me. I try to understand you. It can’t work unless you help me.” Meryl pleaded, cracks striking through his voice. “I’m sorry that a fucking murderer doesn’t make sense to me.”

This time, it was Diosia that relented in surprise; his expression softened, his wings opening and closing as if he were trying to find what to say. A moment of silence passed.

Diosia agreed, gently, “You are right. I cannot fault you. You care about me. It is just... there is no solid bridge between us yet. There is understanding, but it is yet to be full and fleshed. Let me then explain my kind, and you in turn may explain yours.”

Suddenly, as the sun rose, Meryl knew Diosia was a stranger no more. He had learned about him and taught Diosia about himself in return. He understood the world better than he had before, it was clearer to him, kinder and yet grimmer. Diosia was as he said he was, the result of baleful sentiments personified as a creature of revenge, an ever-lasting cry of a fallen god whose name now bore no grace nor meaning, for he was dead. But Diosia had breathed since the moment that god had fallen, and even sometime before it. Diosia was not immortal, but he would live as he was for as long as he wasn’t killed.

Ageless.

Eternal.

This, while it did not justify Diosia’s perspective and actions, helped some things click that hadn’t before. It should have been obvious to him, too—he felt stupid for needing Diosia’s explicit-spelling-out of reality. Diosia did not understand the value of life as he did, for everyone else about him was always fleeting. Even the sirens he knew were likely long gone and murdered. Meryl had been a mere notch in his belt at best, perhaps an especially notable night-out, a pleasant, refreshing experience, but so easily gone, too.

He had been a temporary means of entertainment, and now he had nestled his way into a more permanent position, tucked right between Diosia’s ribs and his heart. It was terrifying, and fortunate, and a little grim to think what could’ve happened had he not won Diosia’s affection.

But here he was, able to curl up into warm, soothing arms once more. And, despite the fear, felt safe as he did.

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#original characters #original writing #acolyte's stories: meryl and diosia #fantasy writing #oc story #oc: diosia #romance writing #oc: meryl #original story #oc writing

[aphroditesacolyte]

Meryl and Diosia P28

Ch 28. // Our Yearning // Read on AO3

Masterpost

Summary: Both Diosia and Meryl continue to struggle with their own desires.

Content warnings: Dubious morals/just Being Immoral, romanticization of violence, please read at your own discretion, thank you!

~Approx word count: 1,904 words

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A genial meeting was taking place, the vibrations of talk occupying the water, each hum admittedly more meaningless than the last. The gathering was lost in idle prattle, and skewing Meryl’s disinterest further, throughout it the majority of its tenants were mere acquaintances of his family, or relations maintained out of formality and courtesy alone. He wished for more intimate dinners every now and then, ones where it was only his family at his side.

He had little privilege in seeing his father without a flock of random people especially; he could see Shui or his mother easily enough, but his father? He couldn’t imagine it, and so while he further craved it, he suppressed that yearning for a loved one’s companionship.

It was only that the ache of wanting was fresh and revitalized in his body; the scar had been cut open, carved out by everything he craved and the cravings themselves. It was driving him increasingly mad to want company, to want love and affection, and to feel so insatiably lonely without it. Even within a crowd of guests primed for the celebration of his family, he felt alienated and lonely.

It was not that he wasn’t friendly, or that others weren’t friendly to him.

It was that he was trapped in the shallows; the shallow sound of a, “Hello, how are you?” the emptiness of an unmet smile, or the discomfort of a forced hug. There was no intimacy behind these acts, and certainly no passion.

Perhaps that was another fault of his; it was the simple things he found too plain to make him happy. But he knew they wouldn’t happen at all if they weren’t expected—required. That was why he had come to treasure the few friends he had, the ones who he knew meant what they asked, what they said, what they felt.

He shouldn’t be spending moments like these with careless strangers. He should be spending them with friends.

Like Bondi.

His heart ached with regret. He knew what Roka endured by Diosia’s will, for he himself endured it ten times over in his dreams now—not with a certain fondness, no, but a passive recollection. It was still the closest he had ever been to death. The memory and thought were both haunting, knowing someone he cared about had experienced it unwittingly, unwillingly.

But he was torn in two as always, for the assailant and the victim were both those he loved, even if one hadn’t a single excuse for what he had done, whilst the other needn’t excuse what was mere innocence. He would have to check on Roka, surely, but the need for the act served as its own deterrence to him, and he’d instead seek out his lover again. Yes, once the night was over, and his family had gone to bed, he caved to his sin of choice and sought Diosia’s company over again.

The platform that Diosia fondly called his own glowed with the smolder of flame, a captivating colour wavering over the stones, seeping into the gaps and crevices with a wobbly, yet almost… graceful sway. He admired the flame Diosia had conjured, glimmering upon the stone, neatly contained by an assortment of smooth rocks that he’d lined into a charmingly clumsy circle.

“Hello, little mer.” Diosia greeted, his voice luscious as ever.

“Hello, Diosia.” He replied, slipping out of the water and onto the stone; he settled on a divot in the space that brought him away from the flame, for as much as he enjoyed its warmth, he wasn’t particularly privy to being burned.

In the golden light, Diosia’s home felt as if bathed in heaven’s light, if heaven were far more discreet and sultry, and with fine riches (the ones Diosia hadn’t broken) laid about the place as neatly as reverent sacrifices would be, it became an altar; he almost dared to test his morals further, to declare Diosia worthy of worship, but relinquished the temptation, instead looking up to him sweetly.

“So, how are your instincts today?”

The flames danced in Diosia’s eyes, almost swallowed up by the strength of his golden irises, but perfectly mirrored in the black pearls that were his pupils, shining and round and clear.  There were few sights as horrifying and holy as Diosia, the black-feathered angel, trailing alongside the embers and coals, his wings humming a soft tune of feathers brushed against stone, and his eyes lit by the roaring mischief of the fire; it bit at the air greedily, ravenous to consume everything it could. But Diosia was not so. He was powerful, more than a flame;

Diosia intended only to consume what he needed, what his body yearned for, and even this intent was somehow suspended by his love for his desired. He had found the exact way he wished to walk between the lines of desire and need—he lowered himself to the ground, pressing Meryl back and back, following along until Meryl was pinned between the stone wall and his embrace. His instincts were alive. They burned so very hot.

“It is the sort of day I long so dearly for your taste, to celebrate your being by the means of the tongue, teeth, throat, and stomach. I want to see red torrents become the seams that which a lovely dress is sewn to your body, flattering your lithe, vulnerable self with carnage so prettily undoing. I want nothing more than to love you depravedly, lasciviously.

But then, all of it is quelled by your sweet voice, and I remember that to love you honorably involves no such acts. It is to be gentle, patient and listening, and it is to protect you from what may harm you, and while my whims are of no hurt to myself, they are to you… So, I mustn't let them have you, not so violently.”

Meryl gave a nervous smile. “Is that a good day, then?”

“My miserable vitiation is only undone by your reminders. It is... a better day than some, but my mind is tortured by your image.”

Meryl felt the back of Diosia’s hand trace his jaw lovingly, a morbid, open fascination flickering in his eyes. It was horrifying to see Diosia honestly, earnestly speak to him. The threats he’d endured before were prettier, tied up with flattering ribbons and served to him so carefully, and each act that induced fear was done with such calculation that there was no place nor time where it would’ve ever veered off course.

This, however, was to meet Diosia raw.

His fingers trembled as they reached up for Diosia’s wrist, his hand still set delicately against Meryl’s cheek, and he couldn’t peel his own gaze away from Diosia. His eyes flicked over Meryl, drinking in every feature, invoking a feeling not so unlike to being feasted upon and bit into, a disturbingly familiar feeling to him now. He dared to reach up his other hand and pressed at Diosia’s chest in purchase for some space of his own, finding that it wasn’t only his heart that flitted in his chest. Or more suitably, roared in his chest: Diosia’s heartbeat was heavy and pounding, like the organ intended to tear through his ribs and escape on its own.

He guided, his whisper soft and certain, “Breathe.”—Diosia huffed at first, each breath heavy and dangerous—“Slowly.”

A few more soft assurances brought about control of Diosia’s breath, and soon slow, long gusts of air blew over Meryl as opposed to the rapid, beating gasps that had barraged him before. He could not tell if it was exhilaration or anxiety that compelled Diosia’s display, and if it were both or either, they were indistinguishable either way.

“Are you okay now?”

“Have either of us ever been okay?” Diosia answered, withdrawing in forethought.

Meryl took offense to the notion for a moment, the idea that he was as low as a murderer whose mind now lived in fractured pieces after having been dashed by the slightest of tastes of morals and realities. Meryl had lived with those his entire life. He knew what being okay looked like, he was sure.

“I guess you’ve got a lot to work out.” came his intrepid voice after a judgmental moment had passed.

Diosia took the remark lightly, and a soft laugh filled the air as he sunk back into the easement of control. The scent of smoke and ash capered along with the sound, righting the intensity of the moment before.

Diosia agreed, “There is much to work out, little mer. For instance,” A daring, sly smile flashed upon his face as he slid up beside and smoothly drew Meryl away from the wall, pulling him into his lap. “How shall we spend the rest of our evening? The night is plenty young.”

Meryl could not question as to whether Diosia flirted in earnest. He was already far too entranced to even think beyond the sweet pleasure of the moment before him. Diosia was a creature much greater than him—stronger, larger, fiercer, rougher, crueler, and yet when his claws grazed against his skin, or his hand became entirely enveloped by one much greater than his own, he only felt complete. It was as if Diosia was that greater piece he had been missing all along.

“Well...” Meryl ventured, “I don’t suppose you have any ideas? Less... bloody ones, anyways.”

“Oh, what harm in a little blood? It’s not as though it must be yours.”

“You’re very funny.”

Meryl toyed with a curl of black hair, twisting it around and tucking it behind Diosia’s ear, smiling. He noted the length, and the charmingly uneven layers from centuries of cutting and styling it with no more than a jagged blade. Still, Diosia was very well-kempt; each strand glimmered, soft and pleasant to the touch. He was not one to let the saltwater best his looks.

“And you: bold to presume I’d jest.”

Meryl tapped his nose. “Since when have you ever said something in front of me that you’ve committed to? You can’t blame me for not taking you seriously.”

Diosia’s mouth opened and closed as he desperately sought a retort, but ultimately, he found nothing to refute him. His grin widened in flusterment as he stumbled over his words, “You-you are not right just for being right, I hope you know.”

Meryl laughed, hugging him as tightly as he could. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I’ll try not to hold it all against you for now.”

“For now?” Diosia echoed, with seemingly-real-worry.

“I just mean I’m happy to let our bygones be bygones as long as they, you know, stay gone.”

“Ah. Well... I suppose that is fair.”

“You suppose?”

“Might I use words more pleasurable to the ear, darling? What other phrases might better suit your palate?” He purred. Meryl rolled his eyes, contented with what honesty he had drawn from Diosia already, and so he let it go without further pressing. Besides, it pardoned the rest of their night for lighthearted enjoyment of one-another, a welcome reprieve in what stress they’d endured in recent days, and a reprieve that he was certain couldn’t last long. In the back of his mind, he’d conceded to the fact a little while ago: The armistice with Diosia’s bloodlust could only last so long, and so, he was fervid to lose himself in what time they had.

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#original characters #original writing #acolyte's stories: meryl and diosia #fantasy writing #oc story #romance writing #oc: diosia #oc: meryl #original story #oc writing

[aphroditesacolyte]

Meryl and Diosia P24

Ch 24. // Fish In a Birdcage // Read on AO3

Masterpost

Summary: The world is confusing and strange to them both, just as they are to each other.

Content warnings: fear of death/they are in an intense situation, uh... a person being regurgitated I guess??? please read at your own discretion, thank you!

~Approx word count: 3,223 words

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Droplets of silver light swept over him, fluttering on his lashes and across his chest, until finally his eyes opened to be met with the radiance of the moon centered in the sky.

I slept in…?

Warmth cradled him, a gentle haze all around, and instinctively he curled in not only on himself, but in on Meryl as well. It took all he had to will himself to move, even just a little, for the bliss that lulled him was much more potent than it ever had been before, and he was quite accustomed to a few days of rest after having eaten. However, this merfolk was an exception all around.

An exception most definitely—exceptionally enamoring to him, to the point that even when he had him as close as close can be, he craved him. He wished to be able to press his lips to Meryl’s and taste that certain spark that made his mind buzz. Although, perhaps taste wasn’t the right word at all—it wasn’t something he truly tasted, and yet it lingered in his head and in his mind, a sugary coating that made his heart flutter.

All he knew at this point was that something that is not food does not stay in a stomach, and, as much as it pained him to admit, the mer was much more than food to him. He could say Meryl replenished him truthfully, simply not in such a literal way.

He had to… let him go.

His little nest rustled as he pulled away from it, drawing himself groggily down to the water’s edge, wings lightly flapping for the sake of his own balance. However, as he was about to let Meryl go, a realization of sorts struck him; the water was dull and vile, unfit for someone as lovely as Meryl. It was no place to let go of his little treasure, and so certainly, he wouldn’t—not here—rather, he would go somewhere else before he did such a thing. And luckily, he had the perfect idea.

The wind hugged and clung against him, nestling its way through each feather and strand of hair while below him grey turned to blue, a deep, reveling colour that somehow only reminded him of Meryl, and convinced him to muse further. In his head he doted on and on, a thousand thoughts rushing through him in his flight.

To begin with, Meryl would be mad at him for this—he was certain of it. This, in combination with the flame of instincts, drew him further over the water, until suddenly he crashed with its surface.

He swam further and further, pulling himself down into the ocean’s depths as he did. The water was dark, a blur he grazed along in search of one particular place, something he happened upon mostly by the luck of memory.

Its mouth was ominous and wide, embedded into the sea itself, at night a sort of void one would regret coming to. Regardless, he moved through it keenly, well aware of the luminous blues yet to wash over him. His heart raced as he pushed against the water, feeling the resistance of each molecule against his form. His wings whipped and propelled him forward, and his arms kept shoveling at it all the same.

The light came to him, and a moment later he was piercing the surface, hands grasping at the edge of stone and upon this platform the blue glow crystallized all around him, and each plant that made its home along the wall was nothing short of nostalgic decor.

It had been so long since he had visited this cave. Seven years—at least.

The deeper he went, the tighter and smaller it became, a sort of tunnel that was accommodating to a creature his size, but certainly not of grandeur. Suddenly however, it opened up, like how a butterfly unveils its wings from the cocoon, and then dances across the sky and vision of whatever viewer it may have.

Below him was an abyss, trailing back and back, and all around him stood sorts of cliffs and sea-stack like rocks that bellowed up from the depths, where, if one was unfortunate enough to fall, after a minute or so they may strike the surface of water once more. Here, far along the roof of the cavern, the incandescence of light was still glacial and enchanting as it stemmed and crawled over stalactites. Throughout the sort of platforms, dozens of pools formed and spilled over, fine waterfalls cascading down the rocks.

He spread out his wings, and settled at a fine, large platform and its pool, where no water fell off of its edge (which made it an arguably safer place to settle). The water burbled beneath his knees as he slammed down against it, and its whimpered echoed on for a long while as he adjusted himself. He could feel his stomach twist and turn, even though Meryl was well and perfectly still.

He didn’t want to do this—to let Meryl go.

But he had to, and so he did. He pried open his jaw as far as it could go without someone to widen it, and clenched his abdomen tightly, an immediate wave of nausea overcoming him. He couldn’t take the sensation of something crawling up his throat, and had to swallow it back down.

He let out a defeated sigh, his hands flopping onto his lap as he murmured, “I’m sorry Meryl, I’m trying.”

He ever so slightly clawed at his knees, the sharp, subtle curve of ebony claws digging into his legs as he strained himself to try again. He’d do this, he couldn’t keep Meryl there forever.

He kept his mouth open wide, and before he tried again drew in a slow, soothing breath, as if to reassure himself that he was capable. He did this with Roka just about a day ago—he hadn’t lost the capability in a day, and though of course Roka was difficult to spit back up, he certainly wasn’t this hard. His stomach squeezed again, and his eyes scrunched shut in his focus, fighting against a powerful reflex to resist.

He felt everything become utterly crushed in his chest, a suffocating feeling similar to that of terrible stress, and knew that he was almost there. Everything stretched, now fervidly, and much opposite to taking someone in it felt of a terrible pain. His throat stung with his lover’s form, until finally the weight had settled at the back of his throat, and he began to wrench him out.

Meryl came pouring out quickly into the pool he had chosen, and for a moment he only gritted his teeth and clutched at his empty core. He had expected the water to splash and sputter, to hear panicked gasps and cries, but instead, it was silent.

He peered over at Meryl, and his heart dropped seeing how still his figure was. Meryl lied there, impassive eyes closed and calm. At once the water became extraordinarily violent from Diosia’s fumbling, wings flapping and beating against the surface as he scrambled over to Meryl, who had floated a little farther away from him. He hurriedly knelt in the deepening pool and wrapped his arms around Meryl, trying carefully to keep his neck beneath the water so that the gills that ran along it would have access to it. Stretching over and down, he pressed his head to the mer’s chest, straining his ear.

It took a moment to reply, but a gentle thump came back in return and he knew Meryl was well—or at least, alive. He hadn’t done anything to hurt the mer; he’d only kept him close for a little longer than promised.

Once he was certain that Meryl was alive, he drew the mer closer to the shore and left him to rest. It was understandable for him to be tired—at these hours mer naturally were, or at the very least it was to his knowledge that they were. He pattered away from Meryl and quicker than he came, he left.

His speed was much farther from the leisurely, almost-rocking-like pace he had been in before; he moved sharply, quickly, for it was only a matter of time before Meryl woke back up, and when he wanted to gather food before the mer had woken up (for certainly Meryl was hungry by now, much like himself) he needed to outrun Meryl’s consciousness.

Though hardly the same, his task took him very little time, and soon enough he was trailing back along the stone, a large tuna in hand, and yet in his race, hesitation bit at his legs as he moved down the tunnel—slowly, skidding and scrapping against his better judgement, he came to a halt.

“What am I doing?” He questioned aloud, shifting the fish in his arms. “I’ve hardly known him for ten months why—“ The realization struck him as he looked down. “—he’s a fish.”

He shook his head scornfully, a light, and yet so very dark laugh escaping his lips. “I’ve fallen for food, like you.”

It wasn’t as if the fish could reply, of course, however, being alone for so long certainly enriched one’s imagination. It was simply a habit he’d made for himself, rambling on and on aloud, musing to no one in particular.

“And for what? For what have I risked my pride? My heart? My own needs? Perhaps my own life?” He smiled, ever so slightly. “Just a someone, I suppose as everyone else ever does.

“Simply a someone.”

He leaned against the wall, as if implanting himself within the stone could be a sufficient excuse for not facing Meryl, the being he had fervidly devoured only a day ago, and that now he felt insatiably in need of.

“But shouldn’t I regard food as more of a something?” His eyes flicked down to the fish with a particular disdain, one of dissatisfaction, as if he were angry it hadn’t contributed to his reflection. “Like you.” He added, bitterly;

 “Even when you were alive, you didn’t say a word. Creatures like you serve their role to their home—in your case, the ocean—and then they die and are to be eaten by another creature. You are nothing but support to bigger, greater creatures. You’re pathetic.

“I…” His speech faltered before he found the words to continue on, “I am not so! I am not to be eaten. I serve myself… and a goddess, rather admittedly. But it is still far prettier a purpose than you, fish. And I am certain I ought—”

A cry echoed down the tunnel, thwarting every (conceited) remark he was to make to an animal that was already dead and his gaze snapped over worriedly.

“Meryl?”

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Meryl had no idea what he had gotten into; his mind so blearily recalled the night he snuck out to shore and became caught deep in citrine eyes, whose intents displayed in sharp pupils had permanently bewitched him to a fate of death. And then, death hadn’t come. Again and again, it slinked by him as nothing but a snake at his feet. It slithered by so often, hissed and bore its fangs and thus made him so certain that it would never bite, that it was only temperamental, and that it only needed to find its ease at his side.

And now he felt its venom in his veins.

Fear was his sedative in the moments leading up to, and the way his heart had tossed him about—the way Diosia had tossed his heart about—did nothing to give him stable grounds. He was beaten and afraid, and miserable and longing, and frightened and compliant in all ways. Physically, he had denied himself nourishment for two weeks in an act of punishment, believing that maybe he had failed the siren entirely, and that Diosia was dead.

The weight of Naigale’s death had always been such a motive in helping Diosia; even if it took the face of death to siphon that truth out of him, he could acknowledge it now. He felt like he was making up to a species he had harmed, a species that was already dying before he drove a spear through a siren’s heart.

And now, so fittingly, a siren drove a spear through his.

Didn’t he deserve this?

He deserved to be trapped between Diosia’s teeth, if not pierced and torn apart by them entirely. As a matter of fact, this was gentle—merciful of Diosia. In some twisted, bitter way he could understand the tenderness that Diosia carried in his actions, despite their demented consequences, and could feel a lack of ill-intent in every touch.

 But he was still afraid. He didn’t want to die. No one ever does.

And at first, he wasn’t so sure if he was conceding to death or to Diosia as the two in concept were completely separable, even if one brought the other on occasion—but that was all before time began to drag. His world became the colour black for the darkest parts of someone were tucked away inside of them, deep where no one else would find a secret nor a crevice that was never meant to be found. The hours crept by, and for all of them he could not see.

There was nothing to see; he was trapped within a void, slowly becoming kneaded into another being entirely and dissolved by their adulation. Whether he was asleep or awake, he couldn’t tell, as all he could see was black. Like tar the blackness sunk in on him, coating him from the tip of his fin to the last curl of hair upon his head, and progressed to be too heavy to move in. Now trapped, he was fodder to passive systems and natural processes—it would all occur to him without thought nor command from Diosia at all, and he wished the fact could pardon Diosia as innocent of killing him then.

In spite of it, once the burning began and he could tell that the tar had been lit aflame, he admitted his lover to be at fault. He was dying. The world closed in on him, squeezing tighter and tighter. He imagined it was so Diosia could drink up every last drop of him, anything that remained.

When he was sure it was almost over, he was right; light spilled into his head, a mellow, satin blue illuminating his eyes. Weightless as he was, his spirit drifting along, he let himself wander aimlessly.

But then he breathed.

And he cried out.

And he breathed, and he was alive. The world around him was so very real. It was tangible that he wasn’t dead. He wasn’t even hurt. There were no burns, no scars—nothing. He was alive—every breath told him so. In that moment no sweeter, exhausting truth could have saved him as this realization did, the realization that Diosia hadn’t killed him as he convinced himself that Diosia had. His lungs felt crushed by the freedom of air, the weight of such being far too heavy for him to handle. He was adjusting to a much wider space now and couldn’t afford himself to take in air that he hadn’t already breathed before, and so he dipped below the shallow water entirely, where the world felt smaller by a more tolerable amount. His feverish rejoice parted only for further questions, ones primarily in regard to his current circumstance.

Had Diosia left him by a pond somewhere?

He lifted his head from the water and drew himself closer to its shore, sitting within it. He then tilted his head upwards, and realized he was nowhere he had ever been before. Above there were no stars, rather, there was the painting of a different world entirely, a world he had peered into only once. The place reminded him of Naigale’s cave immediately and the memory did well at knitting his insides into one another, causing everything inside of him to twist nervously.

This was no place for a merman; this was a place for a siren.

“D-Diosia?” He muttered out, a hazy, reluctant call.

“I’m right behind you.” A voice guided gently in return.

He whipped his attention over to the siren, anticipating the dark looming figure he knew well as Diosia, the figure who might’ve come from hell itself other than anything else, but that was not who he saw. The figure Meryl saw crossed his legs neatly with his hands rested impassively in his lap with his wings set down across the stone, still subtly gleaming blue, and looked at him with clement eyes and a quiet glow. Diosia’s pupils, as opposed to the snake-like slits they often held, were widened and rounded.

A silent reverence could be seen in him, and as Meryl stared longer, it seemed to become louder. Diosia leaned in eagerly, curious as to what words laid themselves at the back of Meryl’s throat.

Finally, Meryl spoke; “What is that for?”

Diosia looked down to the large fish that was dead at his feet, then back up to Meryl.

“For you.” Diosia then quietly elaborated, “To eat.”

“You went fishing for me?”

“I did.” He beamed.

“Th-thank you,” Meryl uttered, pushing himself forward towards the fish. He reached out for it and slightly flinched when Diosia moved to push it further towards him, even if it was hardly a menacing gesture.

For the next few minutes, neither he nor Diosia spoke, both much more preferential to keeping to themselves. He ate in silence, drawing out his meal regardless of how repulsive he found eating to currently be, as it offered him an escape from confrontation. He bit into the fish again and again, awkwardly keeping everything as noiseless as he could manage given the empty, echoing state of their environment, where even a mere twitch of Diosia’s talon seemed to yell on afterwards.  

Diosia murmured, tenderly, “Meryl.”

He agonized over his reply, but Diosia spared him from words, speaking once more.

“I’ll take you back to water come the morning, and for tonight, I hope you shall rest. And…” Diosia no longer spoke, prompting Meryl to glance over. “I am very puzzled and very lost; however, I do know that I wish for your company.”

“I am, too.” Meryl flicked his eyes up boldly. “Why didn’t you kill me?”

Diosia froze over, like ice had crawled through his pores and burrowed into the marrow of his bones; the fear his question struck was potent—it was the first time he had ever seen Diosia scared at all.

Diosia breathed, “Why would I do that?”

“Because you’ve wanted to since we’ve met, and then, after I thought you had changed your mind, it seems like you still want to. Do you still want to, Diosia?”

“My instincts are not fair to me; my species is burdened differently than yours—”

“So, you do.”

Diosia pleaded back, “Meryl—”

Meryl whimpered in return, “I don’t know why you do these… weird, psychotic things and I still love you regardless. I don’t understand what you get from playing this game with me.”

“Meryl.”

“What?”

“I… I’m scared. I don’t understand either, but I am not so certain if this is still a game.”

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#original characters #original writing #acolyte's stories: meryl and diosia #fantasy writing #oc story #romance writing #oc: diosia #oc: meryl #original story #oc writing

[aphroditesacolyte]

Meryl and Diosia

Ch 11. // Plot Hole // Read on AO3

Masterpost

Summary: Things aren't quite adding up.

Content warnings: "I want to eat him" vibes, god I dunno these guys are weird, profanity as always, please read at your own discretion, thank you!

~Approx word count: 2,610 words

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For a long time in his life, Meryl thought he knew better—like that he knew better than to spend time with someone dangerous, or that he knew better than to bother a friend or put them in harm’s way, or most certainly that he knew better than to follow a friend out when they snuck away in the dead of night. However, when the last option was such a strange, uncharacteristic thing for Bondi to do, he couldn’t help but (secretly) tag along.

Bondi moved along without a care and with the assertiveness he always did, swaying in the water and propelling himself forward with ease. It was a pace Meryl found difficult to keep up with, and consequently lost Bondi for stretches of time, swimming on aimlessly and hoping he had chosen the right direction. This time, however, it seemed that maybe he hadn’t. As he moved along, there was no sign of Bondi anywhere. When he searched on through the waters that felt almost murky from the dark, it only became more unlikely that he would stumble across Bondi again, at least while going straight. So, he guessed.

It was a slightly educated guess, not that it was any better, for it was still riddled with uncertainty. However, the time of night was a keen one for all sorts of creatures to stir, so maybe Bondi was just hungry. He traced along the water of every favourite hunting spot he could think of, from clams to crabs to lobster to tuna and to any other meal Bondi might fancy, and only found food. The waters were lively, but amongst them no fuchsia scales to be seen.

His mind drifted to the shorelines… did Bondi have the same night-time habit he did? Well, that he formerly did. Sort of formerly did. It wasn’t such a good idea to go out alone at night.

That’s when his stomach sunk, feeling as though it would collapse in on itself.

Bondi wasn’t seeking out Diosia, was he? Even Meryl was avoiding him now, surely Bondi knew better. Bondi wouldn’t go out of his way to interact with someone like Diosia, would he?

Yes, yes, he would. If Bondi thought it meant keeping Meryl safe, he absolutely would. A new-found distress pounded at his insides, causing him to get worried sick. A nauseous feeling chased him the whole way to Diosia’s home, and it felt as though the water pushed against him as he went. When he tried to flick off the potent feeling of worry by shaking his hands and limbs, it seemed to stick to him grossly, and he almost trembled.

He wanted to stop what he was doing and curl up into a ball amongst the wreckage, protected and out of sight. He wanted to feel safe, as though there wasn’t a possible danger that loomed and stalked above him.

But as all times before, it was empty.

There was no one there.

He should’ve felt relieved, but he never found an unanswered question to be a cure for anxiety, even if he had ruled a possibility out; Bondi wasn’t after Diosia it seemed. Another cruel factor, the factor that perhaps Diosia had gone out to find Bondi like before, came to his mind to replace the idea of Bondi visiting Diosia, so he rushed on.

He began to search along the coastline and amongst the rocks that could host someone upon them, finding little progress from it. His original idea wasn’t so bad, he figured, so when he found no signs of Bondi still, he searched both along sources of food and the coastline. Particularly, he checked over the estuary Bondi always visited, a place terribly close to where Diosia and Bondi had fought originally.

The fauna and weeds grew thick and hearty where he was now, so deep and tall that they concealed whatever may prowl within them with ease. With nowhere else to search, he traveled along this path and brought himself further into the maw of the river. Silver liquid sparkled across its surface, but the height of all the strong plants left the water shadowy regardless.

It was quite a wide river too, and the water was not shallow, nor cavernous, nor ocean-like, which provided him a slight shelter. Unluckily, however, he had to search the coast, so he kept himself vulnerable and exposed by the surface regardless of the depths he could hide in. Along the water’s edge were patches of sand that the plant-life was yet to claim, patches that he peered into especially.

Signs of anything at all remained slim, until his ears caught something distinct. The sound of voices, male voices to be precise.

He dipped himself down cautiously and listened as he made wary movements, silently treading along. The voices grew closer, and more familiar. There was nothing secretive about their conversation, he could catch their voices clear as day.

Bondi’s voice was sardonic and bold, something recognizable, and extraordinarily comforting. It meant he felt comfortable, and that he likely wasn’t in danger. Another voice met his ears, a voice low in pitch yet ethereal as it spoke, an accent just as recognizable, but not as comforting.

Diosia.

The words were blurred, too hard to properly pick up, but they were there—and somehow, sounded relatively civil. After the sounds, the two conversationists came into his sight, or more so one half of the pair. Bondi’s bright scales contrasted the washed-out and dull sand, his tail spreading across the beach-front and at the very end dipping into the water as if to have a quick escape. His eyes sought out Diosia as he came closer, almost up to Bondi’s side now.

Through the reeds and thick blades that hid the land, he found Diosia’s eyes centered on Bondi and Bondi alone. Neither of them took notice of him yet, so their conversation kept on. However, Meryl halted himself and stared. The way Diosia laid there made him look like a panther; the bright, piercing yellow eyes and face poking out were most notable, while vague features like a part of his leg or the tip of his wing could hardly be found in-between all else.

Goodness, what had happened to his face?

All along one side there were terrible, jagged lines all crusted and scabbed over, said lines having ruined soft, perfect skin. Or at least it looked soft. It was terrible to see, and made his heart wretch, but the injury looked old. It hadn’t happened to him recently; it was something semi-healing. If he got his wounds the at same time Bondi did though, it was healing poorly.

Yellow eyes locked on him.

In a panic he dunked himself beneath the water and stayed there, frightened by the idea of being caught. Should he confront it? Run away? Running away from Bondi was a bad idea—leaving Bondi alone with Diosia was a bad idea.

Slowly and fearfully, he peeked above the water. He watched Diosia’s gaze gently drift away, while Bondi stared questioningly.

“Did you follow me?”

He began to speak, “I—”

“Hush, it’s fine.” The deep, shiver-inducing voice interrupted, “There’s no need for secrets.”

Meryl glanced towards Diosia as he felt an arm pull him in close to sit beside Bondi. What was this? Was this a dream? It felt as if he were a child again, waking up in the middle of the night from a nightmare to stumble into a conversation he couldn’t understand.

“W-what’s going on?”

Bondi replied, “Oh, I’ve made amends with Diosia.”

What?

Trapped.

Lying.

Waiting.

All separate things. In practice, however, as the days went by, they began to blend. Diosia could feel the soft, salt-carrying coastal breeze and huffed out a frustrated breath as it treated his wings cruelly. As he dared to stretch one wing, the wing, in order to find a more comfortable position, a striking pain zapped through it like lightning, and he immediately let it fall back down upon the terrible plants.

They groped against him and drowned him, their blades and edges uncomfortable, but favourable to the particles of sand that would bite at the skin. He felt repulsed by the now familiar environment that imprisoned him, only due to the fault of his wing. He was stuck here. Attempts to fly were far too painful to begin, or horrendous failures when they started.

The comfort of home sounded almost too good to be true now. He had been out here for many, many days.

He could swim or walk, perhaps, but there was nothing that would bring him back home safely and efficiently. Flight, for now, was a memory and a treasure. However, as all times before, he merely needed patience.

Patience.

The wing would heal, and as would the aching and itching slashes that were still recovering along his face and body. He simply had to wait.

Even so, waiting out against the foliage of the coast, tucking himself away into it so he could sleep safely and peacefully, and most certainly not eating or being with Meryl were all things beginning to grate on him. It felt as though there were holes inside him, things he couldn’t quite plug up no matter how much patience he promoted. He needed food. He needed Meryl.

A finer source of water, something he would normally have access to, would also be of benefit. But food especially. As a siren, he had the gift of a slow metabolism on his side, his body itself held quite the patience for food; normally he would wait perhaps a month, maybe two or three. Now he was going on four, nearing five. He knew he’d be dead by six.

In his current state though, there was little he could do about this. Yes, he could cast out a call and hope to catch the ear of an unsuspecting merfolk, or even a foolish human, both which were hardly as appealing as Meryl, though still plenty something, yet nothing of the sort would satisfy him. He wanted to win his game more than anything. All he needed was more time.

The way the clearing sky framed the moon reminded him that he had plenty of time, yet so very little. Plenty of time to waste away here, but none at all for his plan. How would he win Meryl’s favour like this?

A sound pulled him from his thoughts, the rippling of water as it splashed, and then the sound of rustling sand. He peered around in search of the source.

It found him first.

He met eyes with a nonchalant face. Bondi began to squint at him through the vegetation, judgingly, and in the back of Dioisa’s mind, it almost felt as if the fool were gloating about something he hadn’t won. I let you win. Unfortunately, it was normal for Bondi to bother him now.

Bondi gave him an awful smirk. “Hey, big guy. How you doing?”

He’d much rather Bondi in his gut, but this was alright. He wasn’t that hungry yet; he’d never be so desperate.

“Oh, you’ve come to mock me once more now haven’t you, Bondi?”

“Maybe a little bit.” Bondi answered cheekily. “I just have to admit, it’s pretty funny you’re stuck here.”

Diosia threw back a sharp smile. “I believe you’ve mentioned.”

“Mhm.”

Bondi clicked his claws together with the same smug expression, focused on them.

“Bondi, rather than our previous chats, I’d like to discuss something far more important.”

Bondi cast his eyes back to him, brows raised in questioning amusement.

He quite wished Bondi wouldn’t come back to him. It was a surprise he had bothered checking the first time, though it merely was out of a genuine sympathy and pity. After that it appeared he had exhausted the supply, and now Bondi found his circumstances much more humorous and well-deserved than anything. Well-deserved he couldn’t argue with, however, he was irritated by the mer’s cockiness.

The shield of Meryl’s friendship and the fragile trust he had endangered by attacking Bondi was all that kept Bondi safe, but that didn’t matter. Not if he could convince Bondi otherwise. And he had been well-behaved for all of Bondi’s visits thus far. He could do it.

“I’ve been meaning to for quite sometime,” Diosia pressed himself forward, out of the vegetation a little bit. “however, I apologize. To attack you was dreadfully foolish and ill-considered, and although I do not anticipate you to accept my apology, know that I extend it truthfully.”

Bondi stared at him for a moment, unreadable. The uncertainty stirred some sort of pressing, beating feeling in his chest. Annoyance…?

Bondi gave a skeptic look. “What makes you wanna say sorry now…?”

“As you know, I’ve had a great amount of time to reflect. I mean it. I ought to reform myself.”

“Alright. While we’re on the topic of things-that-should-be-addressed, I’ve got a question for you.”

“I am only here to listen, Bondi.”

Bondi mumbled back, “Well that’s not true… but anyways, why haven’t you enchanted me?”

Perfect.

He withdrew, just a little, and his eyebrows furrowed. His eyes were placed on the ground, as if to evade the question.

“If you thought it wasn’t going to work, it would. It’d definitely work on me, unfortunately.”

I’m aware.

“Diosia?”

“I…”

“You what?” Bondi mocked, “Can you not sing?”

Diosia sought for the scraps of insecurity he had.

“I… no.”

When he glanced back up to Bondi, he caught sight of the worsened state of his relaxed, smug smile. He found it amusing. Diosia could only hope believable, too.

“You can’t enchant and you can’t fly, huh? That must be a pretty rough siren life. The hell causes something like that to happen?”

“Well, the wing—”

“I know about the wing.”

“My voice is a more… complicated story. What I would like to ask you,” his smile sharpened once more as he spoke, “dear Bondi, is whether or not you accept my apology.”

Bondi looked him up and down, scanning for honesty.

“Sure. You know what, I forgive you—on one condition.”

“Yes, dear Bondi?”

“You don’t go near Meryl again.”

What was one more lie?

“Very well. You are right. I am sure I’ve hurt our friendship irreparably anyways.”

He allowed himself to settle back into the plants, and for a little while they talked on. However, in such wonderful timing, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. He felt his face become unusually warm, and almost reached out to touch it before he recalled his injury.

He tried to ignore him because he saw the fear in Meryl’s eyes, however, he couldn’t help it. He wanted a better look at the mer.

Meryl disappeared beneath the water, and that is when Bondi took notice of him.

“We’ll just… let Meryl figure that out, alright?”

“I agree.” Diosia replied.

Once the mer resurfaced, he had to force himself to look away, or else he would’ve stressed the poor thing beyond a sustainable amount. The feeling he felt as he saw Meryl so confused and worried, and most pointedly, frightened of him, was foreign and indescribable. If it were a new sort of predatory instinct, it was not an instinct he liked. It felt bad.

To his ire, as quickly as the jewel appeared, he was gone by Bondi’s guidance. His stomach grumbled and twisted in retribution, an awful, empty and fluttery feeling filling it, a strange feeling of… hunger? He couldn’t place it. But now he wondered whether Bondi would continue visiting and pestering him in this awful place where he was stranded, or whether Meryl would come back to him now that he knew where he was. A lack of definite answers taunted him.

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#original characters #original writing #acolyte's stories: meryl and diosia #fantasy writing #oc story #romance writing #oc: diosia #oc: meryl #original story #oc writing

[aphroditesacolyte]

Meryl and Diosia P26

Ch 26. // Epitome // Read on AO3

Masterpost

Summary: Oh, how tedious it is to have cake but be unable to eat it, too.

Content warnings: Dubious morals/uncertainty regarding if life has value, allusions to murder/death, please read at your own discretion, thank you!

~Approx word count: 2,251 words

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Reposeful sounds whispered in Diosia’s ear, the kindly moon herself seeming to sing between the wind and waves, a dulcet sound in his ears, and so same was the air: pure and invigorating. He could enjoy very little more than such a peaceful night as this, basking upon the smooth stone poured and laced with silver light, but he longed for more all the same. Whilst his mind was dulled, his insides were still hollow and lonely—he craved company, despite how unfit he was for such a thing currently. He could still barely understand what had happened between Meryl and himself only three nights ago, and mulling over his questions had served no answers, rather it came by, stirring more memories instead.

He recalled the nights where the cliff edges weren’t so alone, scampering and cavorting across the rock in sweet company, company whose patience and compassion he took for granted, as now that he had a taste of it again, he coveted it whenever he was without. In this way, his mind drew comparisons in how he felt at Naigale’s side, and now at Meryl’s to make best sense of it. Naigale was much calmer than Meryl, docile and always mild in tone, but pressed more stipulations to his way of life directly. Meryl could request for him to no longer hunt as he usually did, but Naigale could force him, and often Naigale had. It was a frequent occurrence to be scolded for his habits if he were in the company of any other being;

“No, Diosia. That is cruel. Life is valuable; you will treat your meals with honor.” Naigale scorned.

Naigale thought his way of hunting immoral: stalking after, allowing himself to become consumed by another’s personality before quite literally consuming it himself, and toying with mer were all unacceptable ways to go about procuring what he needed to survive.

But why survive when one can live?

Further, Naigale argued it was unfair to derive pleasure from another’s life if that pleasure were to be derived from their pain, but to Diosia, pain was imminent, and life was meaningless. His actions bore no consequences in his mind. His games were his special pleasure, and his method of hunting his entertainment. Or perhaps with Naigale gone, it was his excuse to bring some form of connection to his lips, even if the other party was terrified and unwilling. Either way, the fulfillment he gained from it, though great, had somehow been overturned completely.

Meryl, Diosia discovered, was so much more fulfilling than anything else he could find. It was those pleasant thoughts that he lingered on in attempts to accept or rationalize them, however perplexing and confusing it were to him. Meryl’s presence was more fulfilling than the trickling of his blood, though both he adored and craved.

His infatuation left him with excitement and melancholy, an agonizing medium that he treaded with regret, bewilderment, and joy. It did not make sense to value Meryl as he did, and it did not make sense for Meryl to care for a monster like him, and yet all of it felt so right.  His mind was clouded by this thing, swirling about him, and obstructing all else. He could not think practically nor logically, only lovingly.

With his legs crossed he still dithered in his feelings, unable to visit Meryl, as he was frozen so completely by the puzzle he faced. He took soft, deep breaths as he sorted through the rubble of his conscience, his eyes closed in meditation.

The water rippled, someone having emerged from its surface.

His eyes did not open—he kept them closed and centered upon the maintenance of his equanimity—and he remained so quiet and still, one may have thought him asleep if not for his posture.

“Meryl,” He hummed, fondly. “I believe you are not so used to leaving me be, however, I would much appreciate the solitude and clarity.”

However, when his eyes opened, Meryl was not the mer before him. It was Roka. To find this, Diosia’s demeanor immediately darkened, his composure cracked by such a confrontation, in which the consequences of his actions seemed to be mirrored in the mer’s expression, and in the conversation that was to come.

Diosia questioned, flatly, his tone smoothed over with a sheet of ice; “What could have possibly beckoned you to my little den?”

Roka’s eyes flickered with fear, but like Diosia, he was able to freeze over such feelings and leave them chattering on their own.

“I had a question to ask you.”

His eyes narrowed, siphoning whatever bold psyche might’ve stood behind the viridescent irises with only a subtle glare; however, as much as it must’ve shriveled the merman, it seemed to pull him forward the same.

“Go on.” The siren’s voice tempted—it dared.

Roka’s lips parted like someone had stolen his voice, for he made not a sound, at least for a moment. Diosia gave an impatient, questioning look, and finally, Roka spoke, softly, somberly:

“I want to know if you ever met a mermaid that shares a resemblance to me. She has the same colour and texture of hair, the same scales, and similar facial features; she’s my sister. I… I want to know what happened to her.” Roka whispered, fearfully, “And I think you have answers.”

“As if I am to remember every creature I encounter. Do you recall very meal you’ve ever had?” Diosia denied, passively; it was not that he wanted to deny Roka closure, it was that he was afraid of tearing open such guilt. He practiced a mentality that detached him from such dark pain before—the wicked, crushing weight of guilt—and he had mastered outrunning it, shutting it down, letting himself enjoy his monstrous existence, so the thought of breaking down the walls was all too unappealing.

He wanted Roka to leave.

“Please. She only disappeared ten months ago.”

Sorrow trembled in his eyes, grief overtaking every line of his expression, and still Diosia wouldn’t let himself be swayed.

“I have no means of consoling you. I am not the beast one comes to, to be happy, unless you favour death.”

Roka pleaded back, “I favour the truth. The closure. Please, you don’t have to tell me anything else, just… I need to know if I could ever see her again, or if she’s gone. Just tell me if she’s gone.”

Diosia swallowed, hesitantly. If not for the cool air to repress it, he felt as if a bead of sweat might’ve rolled down his forehead—or rather, a bead of guilt. The silence lasted longer than the conversation.

Diosia admitted, softly, “You will not see her again. I am…” Diosia searched for the words, the ones that conveyed this feeling properly. “…very sorry, Roka. As am I to have done what I did to you a few days ago. Now you may go.”

Tears dripped from Roka’s face and into the water, and he nodded, biting back an awful feeling in his throat. For some reason, Diosia felt… terrible, seeing someone this way. He did not understand why screams were not half as bothersome, if not invigorating. The soft, somber, and yet howling resignation of grief jabbed at him in a way much worse than fear ever would, like a caved-in scream.

Diosia slid closer, making Roka flinch, dislodging the wretched sob that had been caught in his throat. He moved without much thought, relying on a mere instinct to guide him forward and through the situation, nearly sidling through the movements.

His arms wrapped around Roka in a brief, gentle embrace, and then he returned the merman to the water without giving him much time to react, and all the same spoke sympathetically, “I repent my mistakes for the harm they have done to you, but it is my blood to always repeat myself. I am not safe; however, I wish you… comfort, and to be able to move on, and to have any of this, you must leave.”

“Thank you,” was all Roka could say, and then he left.

His presence, however, lingered on in Diosia’s mind; the sound of tear drops striking the water, the light, uneasy breaths of anguish echoing in the chasm of his conscience all clawed at him, leaving torn flesh to bleed. In this ripped state Diosia paced over the information his very own mind held, teetering on the precipice of his conclusion. He laid the facts out simply and plainly, an unorganized list of puzzle pieces that he then began to click together, laying out what was merely a picture of his own reality—it shouldn’t have been such a difficult thing to come to.

He cared for Meryl.

Roka cared for his sister, and he killed her.

Life, Diosia could then reason, was not worthless. It was valued. People cared about it. He cared about it, about Meryl, even if his fangs never could, even if his cravings and his raw urges would never sympathize with his heart, he cared.  It somehow gave him peace to know this, as dreadful of a mistake as it was to care as he knew his instincts controlled him, owned him.

He was bound a slave to the creed of his own awful body.

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Swaddled between sheets of kelp, rest came easy to him always, for its shelter was consistent, it was loyal and forever so—the kelp could not lie, for it had no mind nor mouth to do so, it could not burn away beneath the blue of the waves, and no one creature Bondi ever knew could kill the entire forest, certainly not for sustenance. Here, his life and his love could not be taken from him.

Bondi and Roka slept on the ocean’s floor, curled up where the kelp was organized to be so thick and harsh, one would have to hack or rush through it all to ever locate them. In their little sanctuary, neither siren nor mer could bother him.

By his side was always the warm figure of his husband, someone who he could wrap his arms about and press to his chest, cradling him as strands of golden hair swayed in the water. Whenever he couldn’t sleep, he was fond of enjoying Roka’s company, be it by laying under or atop of or beside him or kissing and fondling and loving him. Roka never minded the slight disturbance to his schedule that was staying up with Bondi on more restless nights, as the past few nights were so eerily opposite to what Bondi knew as “always.”

Nightmares swam behind the lids of his eyes, and not just the wicked imagery of Diosia and what he had done, but the sounds of it too. His ears did not ring, they squirmed and writhed with the awful creature that was the gargle of consumption, of murder, of death. He had been so close to losing his husband.

And as for Meryl, even though he was alive, he was already lost.

The day that followed the wretched night ached with Meryl’s absence; there was not a moment Bondi’s heart could steady itself, nor a moment his stomach felt at peace. The anxiety could’ve made him keel over. The day after, Meryl had (apparently) reappeared sometime in the early morning but made no gesture to speak with him, leaving Bondi to receive his information second-hand regarding his best friend’s wellness. By some miracle, Meryl was alive. But it felt as if Meryl had abandoned him.

He felt alone, and so—even if it wasn’t entirely fair—clung to Roka to compensate. With many anxieties to stir his rest, his eyes fluttered open once again in the middle of the night, fixating on a random blade of kelp that lingered above him. His body then rustled the sand as he began to readjust, anticipating the weight of another to push against him as he did.

But Roka wasn’t there.

Bondi lurched up from the seafloor, whipping about in such a hurried panic that kelp began to entangle him as he moved. He tore out from its grasp, preparing himself to dart out of their little alcove and into the forest beyond.

“Bondi, I’m here.” Came Roka’s gentle, tired voice.

“Where did you go?”

“I went up to peek at the stars. My night has been restless, too.”

Bondi’s shoulders dropped, and he let himself relax under the welcome rush of relief. Roka is safe. Roka is safe. Roka then pulled at him lightly, drawing him back to bed, and Bondi was soon able to abandon a foreboding train of thought in favour of sleep, and embraced by the oblivion of a thoughtless slumber, Bondi would never know Roka had snuck out that night. By proxy, nor would Bondi ever know who or how others slipped off and plotted away behind his back.

Not until it was too late.

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#original characters #original writing #acolyte's stories: meryl and diosia #fantasy writing #oc story #romance writing #oc: diosia #oc: meryl #original story #oc writing #no I did not forget to post this for a literal month on tumblr #no it has not been on ao3 for a month guys #no one saw that #for sure

[aphroditesacolyte]

Meryl and Diosia

Ch 7. // 'Secret' Admirer // Read on AO3

Masterpost

Summary: How strange is the flattery of gifts, thought, and obsession.

Content warnings: Fear/anxiety, profanity (a given in this story lol), stalker/psycho behavior, this story is unhinged

~Approx word count: 1,981 words

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Nights and days passed, ones unbothered and peaceful. A month or so had gone by, and Meryl hadn’t caught even the slightest sign of Diosia; No, not a feather nor sly smile to be seen. Perhaps that was for the best, but he realized now their visits had been filling up his time and changing him.

The first week or so he could still hardly sleep at night—he was so used to being awake at night, then simply making up for it in the afternoon, where he had quite little to do anyways. His parents strictly forbade he did any sort of “lowly” work, and he had no interest in the local politics nor anything amongst it.

All the while, his friends, especially Bondi, kept terribly busy with their responsibilities and all he could do was drift along, awkwardly. Even his sister kept busier than him now. It made him feel a bit pathetic. Although he had plenty of little hobbies, he hadn’t a duty like anyone else around him. He didn’t have to commit to a particular time for anything he did, he simply did it and enjoyed it, which was nice, but not the same as being busy. Occupied and busy were a bit different. So as always, currently neither busy nor occupied (and despite how pointless he found the action), he floated along the water’s current and into his room.

However, when he peered inside, the glimmer of an object charming and foreign caught his eye.

He gazed at the thin, intricate intertwining of the chains with awe, a necklace strewn upon the dull stone—it sparkled with a certain grace. And it was true; what a lovely possession it was, almost hypnotizing to him, though alas certainly not a possession of his own—at least until now. 

How did it get there?

He gently scooped it up and inspected it, finding it was human-made—hardly intended for lengths of time beneath the water at all. He poked out from his shelter and peered up above and all around, searching for a ship. A human must’ve dropped it, and perhaps the water had carried it along. If that were the case, it was rather lost to any human, so he could keep it just fine. In a manner meek and demure, he tucked it away amongst his things and went about his day, thinking little else of the small pocket of sunshine he had happened upon.

However, the next day he found a rather similar thing happened: Amongst his things, just out of place, was another beautiful piece of jewelry. It was a strange coincidence, he insisted, and felt similarly about the third day. The fourth came along and he conceded—someone was doing it quite deliberately, and if it were a mer, they would’ve been gifts crafted for sustaining themselves beneath the water.

He knew exactly who it had to be, yet it confused him.

He didn’t quite want to believe it for some reason. It didn’t make sense. Each day now, he received a gift, gorgeous rings with wonderful, rounded gems or charming bracelets and necklaces of all sorts. Sometimes he’d even find strange objects so clear one could stare right through it with ease, curved and sculpted in such a way that it looked rather fine. There were other trinkets too, all equally interesting—and flattering.

He started to look forward to it. Each day he’d go out wondering what he may come back to, and each time it joyed him to find something there. He didn’t want to think it was flattering or charming or endearing or romantic, it’s just that it objectively was. It made him feel warm inside, and he truly appreciated having something that brightened up his day, at least a little.

There was one downside, though. As kind as the gestures were, there were many, many of them. It was coming to a point where he hadn’t the place to put anything. All of the places he had to store things were becoming terribly full, and some things were too delicate to shove into a box or in a corner somewhere.

He wasn’t so certain as to where he’d put all of it now, or more specifically, where he’d put it where it’s out of sight. He was terribly worried his family would decide to visit him in his room, and find all the little trinkets he couldn’t put away yet. He COULD just toss them away somewhere, hide them within the sand or between a crevice somewhere close by, but he liked them too much to do that. They were so nice, and must’ve taken quite a lot of effort to obtain. Each one was too important to bury away like some shell in the sand. They were more refined, special.

So, he had one person who he knew had the space for some of it, and would (hopefully) be willing to oblige. With as many items as he could carry, he headed off for Bondi’s home, careful as he swam to not drop anything or be seen by anyone else. Luckily, Bondi lived a sizable distance away from the rest of the colony, in a peaceful little place tucked between the twists and turns and deep, rich green branches of the kelp, hidden out of sight. Eventually, now buried in this forest, he came across Bondi’s things and began to search around… was he busy today?

He caught sight of Bondi, who gave him a friendly smile. Afterwards, he looked to everything Meryl held in his arms with a certain confusion written on his face.

“Hey, Meryl…?”

He smiled brightly. “Hi! I-I’m sorry if you’re busy and it’s kind of short notice, but I was hoping you could do me a favour?”

Bondi quirked a brow, and glanced back down at the objects for a moment before returning his attention to Meryl.

“What kind of favour?”

“I just…” he held the items out. “I don’t have room for them. I have a pretty small space…”

“I see,” Bondi replied as he came up closer. “And where exactly did you get them from?”

Meryl looked away. “I uh… someone.”

Bondi stared at him for a moment.

“It was fucking Diosia wasn’t it—”

“I don’t know for sure!” He exclaimed. “They’ve just been… showing up.”

He lowered himself and set all of it down amongst Bondi’s things, giving Bondi a meek smile as he did so.

He argued, quietly, “It could’ve been someone else…”

“Mmmkaay… if you say so hun.” Bondi studied over the miscellany before he continued. “I’ve got a spot for ‘em. You got anything else you’re doing today?”

“No, not really.” Meryl replied, a little sadly, although he tried to hide his melancholy.

Bondi gestured with a jerk of his head and a friendly curve to his lips. “Come with me then, we’ll chat.”

He felt the immediate switch in mood, and instantly went upright, ready, and willing to follow. They went along together happily, quickly getting lost in conversation as Bondi went about his routine with Meryl by his side. It was all fine and well, until Bondi brought them closer to the shore, swimming through an estuary to collect clams. It made him feel a little nervous to be this close to land. The water wasn’t as deep here; there was less of a shield against someone from above. By the time Bondi had filled his recycled net full, nothing had happened, at least not yet. For some reason, the idea of something happening was a bit more of a… fluttery nervous. More light than heavy, yet still anxious. He couldn’t place why.

Regardless, it went smoothly, and soon enough, still to a sense of nervousness, they were settled down upon a rock a little way out from shore.

“So,” he heard the snap of Bondi prying open a clam. “About that siren guy—“ Bondi slurped it up and continued on even though his mouth was quite full, “—I think you should consider telling your parents.”

He pulled back in horror at the idea.

“Do you want to get someone killed?” He cried before he quickly pulled back and murmured, “Sorry.”

Bondi laughed a little. “Hun, you don’t have to apologize for being loud around me, you know that. But anyways,”—he moved onto the next clam—“Just consider it. I’m getting the sense he probably still wants to eat you if he’s bothering you like this.”

“Well,” Meryl spoke with a kindness in his voice, “It’s not really bothering, and if he wanted to eat me, I think he would’ve already. Why would he gift anything to his dinner?”

Bondi shrugged. “Seems like a guy with not much else to do. Probably pretty lonely.”

Lonely. Meryl felt that way too sometimes.

“I think it’s pretty charming.” He declared with the only ounce of confidence he had ever had in his body.

Bondi had an amused look on his face, and his voice carried a fairly playful, though heavily sarcastic tone. “Oh no. I agree, stalking someone to find out where they live and watching their home until they leave so they don’t see you gifting them anything is probably the greatest form of flattery.” He added after another swallow, “Oh, and also not even wanting to interact with them face-to-face.”

He hadn’t really thought of it that way, to him, it was sweet…

But the comment gave him an idea, and he smiled once more in his benign way.

“Then I’ll go see him! And then he won’t have to gift me in secret, and you can see he isn’t all that bad.”

Bondi huffed a dry laugh and continued on with his meal.

“I’m serious, I’ll go see him.” He pressed, sitting himself up as if he were about to leave right this moment.

Bondi hurriedly stopped him with the wave of his hand.

Bondi commanded in a stern, confident (though slightly muffled) voice, “Nope, nope, nope. No way. You are not going to basically feed yourself to him. You’re gonna ignore the gifts and stay away.”

Meryl smiled a little more, almost mischievously. “And how would you stop me?”

“Ohohoho. You don’t want me to start with that.”

Meryl grinned as he began to slip away. “I’ll see you later, Bondi!”

Suddenly, and fairly gently, he was yanked back into place, a strong, however still considerate grasp now wrapped around his forearm. He looked back to Bondi with a teasing look.

“You know, it would be less dangerous if you came with me…”

Bondi let go and rolled his eyes. “You’re insane.”

“I’m just saying, if anything went wrong, we could take him, right?”

Bondi popped open another clam with a thoughtful look on his face.

“Mmmm… maybe. You know when we could absolutely take him on?”

“Mhm?”

“When wearing claws, Meryl.” Bondi gave him a smug smile, fully aware he hated the idea.

And well… it wasn’t all that possible anymore.

“I’ll tell ya what,” Bondi began to barter, “I’ll go. I’ll let you see him one last time, but you HAVE to wear your claws, and I’ll wear mine.”

He explained a little awkwardly, “I actually don’t have them anymore.”

“WHAT?”

“I gave them to Diosia.”

“My fucking god—MERYL!”

Meryl shrunk down. “I’m sorry…”

Bondi crossed his arms and mumbled a little jokingly, “and you didn’t even give them to me. Alright,” —he spoke up now— “I’ll go with my claws and we’ll go get yours back. You can’t really go without those. Deal?”

Meryl hesitated. He didn’t want them back, and he certainly didn’t fancy visiting Diosia with a defensive, armed Bondi, however, maybe it was better than no visit at all?

Begrudgingly, he agreed, and they settled on doing it tonight—as soon as possible. Somehow, that made him even more fluttery and nervous. 

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#original characters #original writing #acolyte's stories: meryl and diosia #oc story #fantasy writing #romance writing #oc: diosia #oc: meryl #original story #oc writing #gosh how many tags can I use before it's technically spam

[aphroditesacolyte]

Meryl and Diosia

Ch 5. // About You // Read on AO3

Masterpost

Summary: Meryl tries to understand his new odd acquaintance—or perhaps rather captor—but finds it more difficult than he expects it to be.

Content warnings: Fear/anxiety, threatening aura, complicated situation... sadism, I guess? XD

~Approx word count: 1,848

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Meryl clutched it close to his chest, where a feeling both anxious and fluttery resided. As to whether Diosia would treat him well today, or if he’d tease and taunt and toy with him, or finally go through with the looming threat, he could never tell. Diosia never made it easy to tell, seemingly on purpose, like he didn’t want Meryl to be able to. Rather than attempt to predict, he’d merely hope. His heart could take some toying with today, but the anxiety of it being more than teasing was still grating.

Part of him wished he could disappear and make it so Diosia could never find him again, however, a little part of him was beginning to enjoy it. He knew it was dangerous to say, but Diosia was being quite pleasant lately—even though he carried a rather terrifying aura as always, narrowed, menacing slits focused on him at all times, but he was otherwise relaxed. Rather than playing with him, Diosia was talking with him.

Words would almost endlessly pour out of him, dozens of things he loved to talk about, but hated to bother his friends or family with. It didn’t matter with Diosia, Diosia wasn’t someone who was close to him. Diosia could reject his interests or feelings and it wouldn’t hurt… hopefully. Not that rejection was much of a legitimate concern, he seemed very interested, it was simply that the thought crept through his mind anyways. In their conversations, he began to catch the vaguest fractals of another person. Diosia was a secretive person, the kind who he could’ve sworn would keep even their favourite colour close to their chest, locked out of sight. Despite this, he truly did well see a person in Diosia—someone capable of feeling, of connecting and loving, of being good. This set Meryl with a bed of embers, and a great warmth of Diosia’s increasing likability kept them stoked and burning. For a reason he couldn’t place, he wanted Diosia to like him. Perhaps because it may be his ticket to survival? Though favour with a predator, in his experience thus far, was much more like being batted around over eaten. Caught and released, only to be caught again.

Besides this, Meryl had learned was how Diosia LOVED his own wicked games. He wouldn’t ever ask Meryl to go along with him, not directly, anyways, it was more so “Keep yourself hidden for five minutes or I’ll eat you tonight.” However, with that came a certain feeling that Diosia wasn’t trying very hard to win in time. He’d always be right there to catch Meryl and scoop him up, but for some reason or another falter. If Diosia won the round, they were a step closer to the game being over, and luckily, for now, Meryl couldn’t catch a hint of genuine interest in it being over. Not yet. For now, he was suitable entertainment, and Diosia wasn’t bad company at all.

He was patient and sly and very attentive. Observant. He didn’t even need to tell him that he liked berries best, Diosia already knew, and before he could say a thing Diosia had already tailored a plate to his taste. To be with Diosia was to be beside a strange mix of excellent company, and the worst possible company you could ever have. The kind that would good-naturedly pull off your coat and pull out your seat to sit you down for dinner, but also simultaneously be twisting and toying with a knife in their hand as they did so. It was confusing.

A very, very confusing habit now, as a matter of fact. In the way of a typical routine, he brushed past the bleak rocks and their dreadful shadows, trailing deeper into the foreign, yet now somewhat familiar domain. It was a place that wasn’t his at all, though one he spent plenty of time at, so it was a strange feeling to not be able to call it his own in some way. It was his second house, but he was sharply reminded not home, even though Diosia now often insisted Meryl spend entire nights with him (a thing he would much prefer if Diosia wasn’t nocturnal). He got very little sleep now; his family was getting suspicious, although explaining that to Diosia changed not a thing. Maybe Diosia would stop poking him and let him try to sleep, but that was at best.

Now he came up to the flattened area Diosia always insisted on taking him, and pressed a hand to the edge to lift himself up and take in a deep breath of salty air while he waited, the other hand tight around his gift. He glanced about all the objects Diosia had, but paid little other mind to his surroundings. Diosia would appear when he felt like it, in the meantime, he’d simply enjoy the peace.

Then the sound of a distinct SWOOP came from beside him. Meryl’s gaze swiftly caught sight of the creature towering over him, folding in his wings comfortably with a smug look.

“Hello, Meryl.”

A kind smile came to Meryl’s face—something he hadn’t even willed himself to do.

“It’s good to see you again, I brought you something.” He said brightly, almost a little excitedly, hopeful Diosia would like it.

He offered up the clam shell he had been using as a somewhat humble case, and Diosia quickly took it up and began to inspect it. He opened it, and a somewhat softer smile came to his face before he looked back to Meryl with the same smug amusement.

“A pearl, hm?”

He nodded, losing a little bit of his confidence. “D-do you like it?”

Finally, the burning turned to a warmth as Diosia chuckled deeply, clearly amused by… something. He didn’t think the gift was pathetic, did he? Or was getting him gifts in general pathetic? Was he dissatisfied?

He began to turn in a direction Meryl wasn’t sure of as he spoke. “Thank you very much Meryl, I quite like it.” It was set down amongst a few other pretty things and then Diosia added, “A very beautiful gift from a lovely mer. I appreciate it.”

The words in both tone and phrasing seemed sincere, but his expression was still so… Diosia. With a sort of dramatic majesty, he trailed back, and gazed down at Meryl with the same sly, cunning look.

Perhaps Meryl’s stomach twisted looking up at those eyes merely because of how intimidating Diosia was when standing over him, or perhaps it was the reason of an unplaceable feeling. Regardless of how frightening Diosia was, he caught himself smiling slightly still—maybe that’s why Diosia looked so amused? The question went unanswered as he was plucked up from the water with ease, carried by powerful arms, much stronger than his own. With the same smooth movements that Diosia always followed, he set Meryl down and quickly began to speak.

“How are you, little mer?”

“Oh!” Meryl gladdened, realizing today wouldn’t be so bad. “I’m quite lovely,” he conceded, “a little anxious, but otherwise well.”

“That is lovely news.” Diosia replied, clearly making an attempt at being friendly.

He had to help him out a little though; it was clear Diosia was a bit new to conversation, or at least needed a refresher. He could only imagine how long he’d been alone for.

“We talk about me so much though, Diosia,” He gazed at the siren’s curious expression a moment before continuing on. “What about you? Have you been up to anything as of late?”

Diosia waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, please. I don’t mind talking about you. I haven’t much to tell.”

Meryl tried to buy him over with a saccharine tilt of his head and pleaded softly, “It’s what I’d like to talk about.”

Diosia huffed out a slight laugh as he leaned back. “Really?”

He nodded, somewhat hopefully. He wanted to be more familiar with him, Diosia felt… mysterious in a way. He didn’t understand much of what Diosia did at all—like why he was required to visit every two days, or why Diosia had to teeter the line between friendly and murderous every visit. Did he want company or not?

Diosia had a thoughtful look on his face, as if he were searching for something to say.

“Let’s start with something simple,” he said in a very affable and gentle tone, “What do you do for fun?”

Diosia smiled something sly. “Hunt you of course, little mer.”

He laughed a little. “No, no—aside from that. You aren’t with me all the time.”

Diosia paused and Meryl laughed a little more.

“It’s nothing confusing, Diosia—“

“Oh hush.” Diosia retorted, placing a hand by his side, and leaned in deeply, eyes narrowed upon him. “I’ll tell you what I please.”

He tensed up a little from the proximity and nodded, a bit thrown off—surprised.

“Okay, okay.” He bravely pushed on Diosia’s chest to move him back, to which (and it was absolutely shocking to Meryl) Diosia followed the lead of. Once they were a more favorable distance away, he asked, “What about your collection?” He took a casual glance all around them. “Where have you gotten all of this stuff?”

Diosia turned his head to admire some of the shining objects he had.

“Oh, that’s rather simple, Meryl.” He purred. “I get it all from little smitten mer like you.”

“Oh please…” he murmured, half amused, and then as Diosia’s face whipped back around to him with a sharp smile, his own grew.

Meryl pressed on, “Come on, you don’t spend all your time waiting around just for your time with me, do you?”

Diosia lounged back. “Perhaps I don’t, little mer. What of it?”

“You know what,” he spoke, playfully indignant, “fine. Don’t tell me.” His arms crossed and he looked away in a dramatic gesture. “I don’t even care, you’re just some beast keeping me here anyways.”

Diosia chuckled. “And I’m so deeply sorry to keep you prisoner.” Suddenly, Diosia slipped up, and closed the space between them, so terribly close he could feel the humming vibrations when Diosia spoke. He took up Meryl’s chin, and gently made him gaze his face and at the emphasis of his teeth as he spoke. “I simply can’t help savouring the presence of such a lovely dinner.”

Meryl squirmed away. “No, no. None of that.”

“Daww,” Diosia purred, “did I scare you?”

Meryl sighed. So being playful was not an option with Diosia…

“Let’s talk about something else.”

He was thankful for Diosia to agree, albeit in a way that seemed conniving and untrustworthy. Getting off the topic of possibly being eaten was much more preferable than Diosia being a little less closed off, though. Once more their conversation had been steered back in his direction, and he was once again finding himself caught up in his own interests. He realized by the time he was almost asleep that Diosia had won—he hadn’t said a thing about himself today.

Damnit.

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#original characters #original writing #fantasy writing #romance writing #acolyte's stories: meryl and diosia #oc story #oc: diosia #oc: meryl #original story

[aphroditesacolyte]

Meryl and Diosia

Ch 4. // Diosia's Master Plan // Read on AO3

Masterpost

Summary: Diosia creates a fool-proof plan to get what he's so certain he desires.

Content warnings: A psychotic fellow being as psychotic as he is, essentially the first-stage of premeditated murder in a romance story, oops

~Approx word count: ~922 ================================================

“Look!” They shouted at him happily, a mix of brown and white feathers flinging about. “It’s cozy here.”

He remembered their smile and their face a moment more, and the way they used to hold themself, reminiscing them.

“I agree, Naigale.” He said softly to himself, absentmindedly stroking through brown curls.

He couldn’t really believe the mer already trusted him enough to fall asleep in his lap, or maybe he was overestimating the disparity between trust and the mer’s belief he had no choice. That was more likely, however, a lack of trust truly would foil his hopes for this mer of a new kind of game. Terrorizing his prey was very fun, and he did enjoy the way Meryl squawked and squirmed distraughtly in his grasp, but he enjoyed the sweet smiles more. The way Meryl eagerly brightened at the idea of conversation, and seemed so willingly to be his friend. He liked the friendliness very much, and when he scared Meryl, he scared the friendliness out of him, too.

So?

Obviously, he’d no longer continue to add to Meryl’s fears, however, now Meryl was afraid of him regardless. Every stroke through the water or shifting and pitter-pattering on the land was riddled with anxiety. If only he hadn’t let himself get carried away, maybe then the thing would be more pleasant and sweet. Oh, he craved it—that sweetness—and although it may not be as challenging as he first anticipated, he’d still have to earn it first. Wrap the little mer around his finger to get those puppy-like eyes and make his meal all the sweeter.

Yes, and to earn it he merely had to build up trust with the mer. Show him he ‘meant no harm’ and that he was pleasant to be around. Then the mer would happily put his faith in Diosia, and consider him a friend, feel free to become utterly vulnerable.

It would be perfect.

This right now, to have the gentle facial features relaxed and resting upon his leg as if it were a pillow, while the rest of Meryl spread over the stone? This was merely an appetizer. As long as the little mer went along with his plan, and of course he would, Diosia would have much, much more. The mer would trust him not only with the soft curve of his lips or every beautiful, intricate scale, or wide pleasant eyes, no, he would trust him with so much more. Every little feeling and thought slipping out to him freely, bursting with flavour.

He felt his heart raise just a little at the excitement of the thought. Unfortunately, that wasn’t all obtainable today, however, he’d start on it. The sooner the better. He had lied to the mer, he was very hungry, but this meal was worth waiting for. It was worth fasting for, even. So, with a tender care to not disrupt the mer’s sleep, he slipped Meryl off and snuck away to go fetch him some more fruit. He seemed to have enjoyed the first few. Luckily, the humans were very easy to steal from, so he merely slunk through their structures and at the very worst had to lull a few with song. It was easy, soon enough he had a nice little bag full of different ones, the strawberries particularly.

Then he was back to where Meryl peacefully rested, the pleasant sight of Meryl curled up contentedly welcoming him. It was lovely, he’d keep Meryl there forever if he could. Perhaps, soon, he would. However, he instead forced himself to focus and set out Meryl’s plate, lining up all the slices and fruits carefully in a rather appealing fashion. The better it looked, the more Meryl would like it, right?

What did Meryl like?

He wasn’t so sure, and thus it dawned upon him that he had an excellent way of building trust with the mer. Certainly Meryl would enjoy talking about the things he liked, yes? And creatures quite fancied those who listened. It was a chance to get on his good side.

Softly he approached the mer and woke him, feeling tugged upon by the sensation of tiredness, but willing to move forward anyways. It only took a gentle nudge for Meryl’s eyes to flutter open and immediately greet him with a timid smile.

“Hello, Diosia.” Came the softhearted words.

His lips curved into a smirk. “Why hello, Meryl.” He gently set down the plate. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d rather fancy talking with you today.”

Meryl perked up as his eyes bounced immediately from the plate to him.

“About what?”

The conversation went smoothly from there, Meryl cooing and fawning over interests that Diosia thoughtfully took in, and took a mental note of. He hadn’t expected it, however, he found himself rather caught up in the sweet chitter-chat of the mer as well. The way Meryl rambled… amused him? Yes, amused him. It was enjoyable to hear, and over all too soon as Meryl quickly finished his food and prepared his goodbye.

“Thank you so much for breakfast,” he said sweetly as he squeezed Diosia in a tight hug before gently retracting, flooding Diosia once more with that sweet, gentle smile. “I ought to go back home now, though.”

He was in his own sort of daze, and merely nodded back. A slight laugh from the mer gushed into him, and the moment the mer had dipped into the water Diosia let himself smile giddily. This was going perfect. Entirely according to plan.

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#oc story #original characters #original writing #romance writing #fantasy writing #acolyte's stories: meryl and diosia #oc: meryl #oc: diosia #so sorry this chapter is actually pathetic lmao #not even 1k words #it happens sometimes

[aphroditesacolyte]

Meryl and Diosia P23

Ch 23. // Perfect Prey // Read on AO3

Masterpost

Summary: Does love kill?

Content warnings: Indefinite/possible character death, character being eaten whole and alive, general themes of possessiveness, heavy desire, dark infatuation, morbid/violent desires, cannibalism but not technically cannibalism because they're sort of different species, please read at your own discretion, thank you!

*Note: another short one but also a chapter/concept I've been going feral over for a long time. As to whether I've properly articulated the balance between the desire to destroy your own object of affection, the balancing act between love and dark, all-consuming (quite literally :p) infatuation, and uh, cannibalism I'm not entirely sure. This'll probably be a chapter I come back to and edit often in order to better capture the concept, but I hope even if it isn't perfect yet, y'all still enjoy! <3

~Approx word count: 1,437 words

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“I’ll let you try.”

His fingers traced over Meryl’s hands—hands so trusting in the way they curled into his own, somehow a sweet, nostalgic memory to him even if he weren’t so sure he had ever experienced this before. It was familiar—loving. He caressed each finger tenderly, fascinated by their curves and form, the slight angles at which they would bend, and the softness of his palms and skin. He lifted up Meryl’s hands, a kind reverence in his movement and gaze, and pressed his lips to one while still gently cradling the other. With a slight adrenaline trickling into him, his tongue traced the bare remnants of flavour from his kiss.

He took his gaze to Meryl, the buzz and hesitance building up in his core. “You’re certain?”

“Yes. I want to know, Diosia.”

Excitement crackled and tingled throughout his whole body, through his insides and into his heart, and an almost violent fluttering resided in his stomach. This was what he had been waiting for, what he had plotted—salivated over—for almost ten months now. Months of calculation and coercing, nudging his little mer ever so closer to him, drawing him oh-so-slowly into his jaws, and now he could just about sense the taste on his tongue.

The mer trusted him to do this.

He had done it, hadn’t he?

His plan had worked.

He had won.

The silk of blue eyes brushed over him and met with his own, and every worried crease in Meryl’s expression told him that he ought to take this chance, or else the little mer might take it away from him.

He closed his eyes, slowly twisting his hands around Meryl’s, until he wrapped around Meryl’s wrists and could pull them forward—into his mouth. Fingers flinched and struck along the nerves of his lips, brushing against them in an ever-so-slight motion of defiance. However, Meryl settled with him, and soon his palms quite willingly, albeit stiffly, rested upon his tongue. He prodded gently, as if to tell Meryl to relax, and swallowed on, a murmur of delight purring through him as the taste began to truly seep in.

His hands doted over Meryl’s wrists for a moment more before he left them to be swallowed all the same, and placed his hands at Meryl’s waist. His mind became a frantic blur, and before he knew it, he was swallowing up Meryl’s arms and he had reached up gently, planting a grasp in sugared, brown curls, guiding Meryl’s head down so that it might soon join the rest of him.

The weight was already so pleasurable, feeling tired and empty space fill with the dulcet warmth of Meryl’s presence. Each swallow drew Meryl in closer, until at his chest Meryl finally lost his tension and allowed for Diosia to bear all of his weight. If not for his full throat at this he would’ve purred again, delighted even by the insignificant fact that now his jaw carried slightly more weight than it had before.

It was odd, very strange of him indeed; however, he wrapped his arms around his twitching—although compliant—repast and hugged what remained of the mer. He craved several sensations at once, that of a full stomach, and that of full arms. If he could devise a way to wrap around Meryl in every which way he would. It was at that point, as Meryl’s waist passed his lips, that he realized something:

If I kill him… he is gone.

It was a simple thought, a quiet little phrase muttered between every ravenous instinct that screamed and roared in ecstasy, but it struck him so harshly that he almost gagged on it. He had become so carried away with seizing his opportunity, that he hadn’t considered if he should’ve at all. The very thought frenzied his mind, its swift movement so easily obscuring affection and violence into one. After all, was love not for one’s object of affection to fill one’s very veins, to be spilled and to bleed out, filling another’s cup with such a fine red liquid fermented by love?

To consume, to destroy, to love.

A growing, boiling frustration splashed about such a beautiful picture—a silver platter serving a beating heart—its temporary state, the way love would so quickly decay if so ravenously devoured, and yet Diosia could not help this. He needed Meryl. In twists of carnal desire and a long-nurtured lust for violence, however, Diosia knew no other way.

This was what he was meant to do; the purpose he was divined for was to consume, to kill. The rapid assimilation of another being into his own had been but a casual code for so long that he hardly knew what it was like to not eat.

Eating was so familiar, and yet, he felt macerated beyond any reasonable amount, as if his lover could fill all he had lost in so many ways.

To kill Meryl, however, would perhaps prove as sabotage to his purpose. Bondi would inform the colony, a hunt would begin for him, and he’d be forced to run away from all the creatures he was meant to kill.

And, beneath a need to fulfill his purpose, there was something else there—the kind of heat Meryl brought to him and the overwhelming appeal he held—it would be hellish to dim it. He couldn’t bear to be without company, and he was certain he’d never find another siren if he tried. So, not only was Meryl his prize, but he had incidentally become his synthetic siren, a substituting partner. Or at least, Diosia told himself that was all it was.

The meaning of the word love, whether or not it graced his throat or his chest, his eyes, or his ears, was foreign to him—at least for now.

He brushed the thoughts aside for a moment, reasoning with himself that if he were this committed already that he ought to (at the very least) finish what he started. His thoughts gushed out again in complete admiration of his catch as so smoothly and pleasantly, Meryl’s scales slid into his mouth and down his throat. The salt and subtle scrapes that the scales gave only added to his buzz, something akin to being high.

The moment he could he gasped out in pleasure, a raw growl in his voice that foamed up into a bubbling mix of savagery and ardor tugging through his chest, dragging across his heart before leaving his throat. Fullness and a sense of gratification washed over him next as he huffed and growled like a feral wolf, still adjusting to a stifled ability to breathe. In the same bane of rapture, he flopped over onto his back. His hands grazed over the bulge in his core, utterly enamored by the figure underneath and the sensation it brought him. He was captured by his own sadism.

Helpless to his own instincts now, reveling in a place most insignificant to him—a place he hardly paid mind to now—he sat there and purred aloud, whispering sweet-nothings to likely-deaf ears. Once he sat up, his euphoria hadn’t faded, however, reason had come to join it, and so he decidedly stood up and stole away. Discarding his previous location, he sought out a place he knew very well would be perfect for the occasion.

The estuary quickly grew out of sight, and with it any chances of Bondi interrupting him, and he became temporarily comforted by the thought. He would have a time with his perfect little mer that not a soul could take away from him now.

Meryl was his and no one could change that.

After his celebration had calmed, he stopped by his collection of things, plucking up every soft item he had. He hauled everything—stolen blankets and pillows, and other little things that were very much so his favourite, up higher in the cliff he lived, creating a nest within a private, inaccessible crevice. It was well and peaceful—so much so that Diosia might’ve never chosen to leave if he could’ve. Here he curled around his lover, contented and cooing in his nest.

Despite his comfort, it was bound to end one way or another, that he knew. He had to make a choice—let the little mer live or keep him forever. However, soothed by his pile, curled up with his eyes closed and a radiant warmth cradling him, he decided now wasn’t the time.

He would decide tomorrow night—yes, that sounded much better.  

The time to decide would come… later.

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#original characters #original writing #fantasy writing #acolyte's stories: meryl and diosia #oc story #romance writing #oc: diosia #oc: meryl #original story #oc writing #fucked up shit #love meets violence or something along those lines #uhhhh #god what do you even classify this as

[aphroditesacolyte]

Meryl and Diosia P17

Ch 17. // Imperfect Prey // Read on AO3

Masterpost

Summary: As he travels, memories follow.

Content warnings: stalking people (I suppose??) literally consuming a being whole and alive, themes of fear and despair, please read at your own discretion, thank you!

~Approx word count: 3,618 words

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He took in their expression and could almost feel the beating of their heart pummeling him, drowning him out entirely. This human was much more scared, not half as friendly as he would’ve hoped, but they weren’t off the table just yet.

Rather, he pressed on with the next part of his test, and whispered on to them. They stumbled forward and into his arms, malleable as he willed them to be. Yes, he could enchant them if he so liked.

He let them readjust in their hazy squirming, latent fear still lingering in their now powerful pulse. However, they weren’t fully satisfactory yet. He wrapped a hand around their wrist, and with the way he grasped them, pushed their palm open to study it. Rather than let him however, they yanked away and began to fight him once more. Their struggles became more desperate, and soon enough they were loudly calling out for help as they kicked and shoved and squirmed against him.

He found amusement in it, but knew very well he’d draw the attention of other humans if he let it pry on nearby ears much longer, so once again he hushed the little human and kept them subdued.

Ultimately, however, they simply weren’t to his fancy, and so he gently pulled away from them, a moment later having quickly disappeared. By the end of the night, he still hadn’t found someone, and so he went to sleep hungry.

The next night went all too similarly, at best getting to the point of direct assessment, only to be disappointed by their personality once again. Humans were so resistance and self-preserving, it wouldn’t be easy to find what he was looking for.

A human just a little bit friendly, innocent, wide, blue-eyes and brown, curly hair, an appearance youthful and sweet was all to his craving, and nothing he had found thus far at all. Still, he was hopeful he would, and eventually he had spent four nights simply hoping. Unfortunately, he found his fifth night was a little more unwelcoming.

Once more he crept along the bushes, crouched low so as to hide himself from sight as he inspected yet another potential catch. Along their side however, was a strange, four-legged creature who waddled with them, a mound of white hair and fluff all twisty and matted. Its face was almost like that of a wolf, but aside from its tail and legs bore very little resemblance. From this creature, a bright rope connected to the human, and at the human’s wrist the rope looped around to fully secure it as distractedly they toyed with yet another glowing rectangle.

He watched them with caution in his step. Suddenly however, its eyes laid sights on him, and the creature began to make wretched, obnoxious noises. His face shrunk away in disgust and as swiftly as it happened, the human tugged at the creature and began to jog away. He waited until they were far enough and decided he had inspected plenty of the humans here. None were going to work—he’d have to try a bit further in-land.

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The grass was soft and tall, creating a lovely stretch of meadow that was warm and peaceful, excellent for a good rest. Across the blades the sun brushed at its tips, painting the meadow gold in the early morning. He felt a yawn creep up into him, and deemed this spot as a good place to sleep. It was surrounded by trees at a distance, but throughout the meadow just a few poked up.

One looked especially appealing to him, a giant old oak with its bark all wrinkled and wise, a massive system of branches blanketing the ground below with shade. He curled up where the oak dipped and the base of its roots curved, giving him a comfy little indent, and closed his eyes. His rest, for a long stretch of the day, went undisturbed.

That was, until something sept into his mind. It was a warm sound, sort of sapid and liquid-y, like syrup. Half-asleep, he listened to it carefully, and if he were a cat the only sign that he was aware of anything at all would be the slight twitching of the ears. Suddenly, though, the sound stopped.

One eye peered open, curiously, and four curious eyes peered back at him. He choked out the urge to jolt in his fright, and slowly opened his other eye to get a better look at them.

They were very small, maybe some of the tiniest humans he had ever seen. Their eyes were bright blue, much like the sky overhead, and their hair was made up of silken, golden strings. The one to his right had much longer, wavy hair that spilled down onto the overalls they wore, and the other’s hair hardly passed their ears. For the most part, their outfits matched, and as did the little freckles on their faces.

He leaned forward a little and gave them a gentle smile—one that didn’t show his teeth all that well. “Hello there, little ones.”

They brightened up with a warm kind of purity only angels could manage, and the one with longer hair waved at him. Even as he sat down, he was still much taller than them. The disparity in size displaced his own understanding of humans briefly, unable to comprehend that these were humans. They seemed too small and precious to be so.

The one to his right greeted him loudly, giddy and bold, “Hi, mister!”

The other was a little shyer, and simply waved as they murmured, “Hi.”

By instinct, he tilted his head, and unintentionally laughed as they copied.

“What are your names?” He asked them, with a kindness he hardly ever spoke in. It might’ve been a different creature sitting there, no longer Diosia, just someone pleasant and curious, enjoying the sunshine of little cherubs.

He wasn’t so sure what happened, as a moment ago he had simply been talking, and now he was being clambered upon and all over. They giggled and played, and although he was very torpid, for a few minutes he mused them. They were very fascinated with him and his wings—the longer haired boy who he came to know as Oliver, asked him if he were a fairy, and the shorter one, Elijah, poked at and admired his feathers.

Diosia had presumed Oliver to be daring and Elijah to be cautious, however, his expectations became quickly overturned as Elijah came closer, holding his hands in order to study his claws. To this, Diosia became sharply still, frightened by the prospect of harming the little creatures.

“Careful,” He warned, gently, giving up no signs of alarm. “They are very sharp.”

As strange as they were—a sort of scar upon his fingertips in how they turned the fair skin to a dark gradient of obsidian, slowly consuming and narrowing, so that his hands looked sharp and monstrous compared to Oliver and Elijah—he didn’t want them to be so closely inspected.

“They’re so cool!”

The most unnecessary sliver pride swelled up inside of him.

“Why thank you. But please don’t touch them, they really are sharp. I have to be so cautious with them.” He chuckled softly, reminiscence soaking his tone. “I remember I used to be so clumsy with them. I would scratch up the doors by accident or rip up a blanket while carrying it. But that was awhile ago, I know how to use them now.”

Plenty more questions ensued, and with the same pride he happily explained his wings, his eyes, his teeth, and the patches of feathers he had all over. However, sleep beckoned him, and so gently he pulled them off and told them so. As disappointed as they were at first, they quickly moved on to dashing across the meadow excitedly, shouting and yelling with joy. He watched them go, only to make sure they were safe, before he turned back to rest.

One thing seemed a little off, however. As he watched them leave, he realized how blurry they became at a distance. His heart skipped a beat at that, and a memory came back to him.

No, no. A human wasn’t going to cut it. Not at all.

He remembered this clearly, it had happened once, and once only, a long time ago. Two decades of starvation, twenty-four years without the scales of a mer weighed upon him so heavily, a length of time far beyond what his body needed to function. He hadn’t expected to be paying the prices for it so soon, however, he shouldn’t have been surprised. As a matter of fact, he should’ve been expecting it—those frightening days where he could barely see a thing in front of him were chasing after him now that he had begun to deny himself nourishment.

It was perhaps what he deserved for playing with his food, prolonging it and making up all these excuses to not eat just one mer. He was being stubborn, as even while he thought of it now, he couldn’t grapple with the idea of snatching any mer from Meryl’s colony; his mind was groggy, and he used that to excuse such an illogical thing, to not eat what he was supposed to, to try and replace it with something else. He was dead set on it—he wouldn’t eat any merfolk from Meryl’s colony. However, considering his condition, he would need a better substitute than a human, not that that was of any trouble.

Meryl’s colony was not the only pocket of a much more fantastical world, nor was Her Altar, nor a deep cave hidden within the ocean (a cave he was certain only he knew the location of by now), there were plenty of other mythical corners of the world. So, surely, he had found a sort of loophole. He would not eat a single mer from Meryl’s home, but another location was not out of the question in the slightest.

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A liquid pool, the colour of cyan—a bright, unnatural blue muddled with the odd teal of strange flora that wavered and brushed against the lake, causing little ripples in their swaying, an almost reed-like bundle of plants. The whole place was familiar to him, albeit strange. Thick moss covered the ground, and everything might as well have been contaminated by a thousand buckets of blue dye. The trees, much like willow trees, dangled down and cupped the sparks of a few fireflies in the air, a bright source of light regardless of their tiny size. The moon cast a bright silver over all else, and so everything was especially bright here.

He came down to his haunches and scooped handfuls of water, allowing the liquid to drip down his chin and to run down his throat inside and out with a pleasant chill. Unlike ocean water, the colour acted as a sort of mist he couldn’t see past, so he simply had to hope he had found the right lake.

A melody echoed across the expanse of the water, farther and farther along, so far that it passed the bounds of his (admittedly decaying) vision and into the world beyond. He sang on, eagerly anticipating something at the water’s edge. The water rippled, and although his song never ceased, his muscles tensed.

Was that it?

Yes—he smiled, sharply—it was.

Entranced eyes peered out of the water at him, a wide pair that was nothing reminiscent of what he was used to, but what he was looking for anyways. He lulled them closer, and once they were near, he no longer bothered with singing as he had them in his clutches now. He plucked them up from the water just as they came to and yelped out at him.

Their size was much smaller than that of an ocean merfolk, they were perhaps half the size of a human, as a matter of fact. Their tail whipped and thrashed against him violently, but with how little they were, it hardly did anything but amuse him. Lake merfolk, Diosia had found, were inferior in almost all regards but beauty, to which they were equal to ocean merfolk. Their taste was of a much poorer quality, and their size meant one on its own was a very unsatisfying meal.

Even so, he’d eat what he caught and be thankful he had even caught it at all.

He carried them further away from the water and pinned the little mer to the ground as they howled, yelling, and chattering in a language he didn’t understand; but he could very well understand one thing—they didn’t like him.

“Now, now,” he soothed with a soft luxury to his voice, one that pacified the creature just a little bit, a more subtle enchantment that he used quite frequently. “I’ll be quick.”

True to his word, he then guided the creature’s head into his mouth and began to swallow. The taste and feeling were almost worth cringing over, like eating raw pork, it simply didn’t hold the same charm an ocean mer did. A few gulps and the creature was already in up to their shoulders, their screams now quiet and muffled due to the flesh of his throat. The sensation of their yelling reverberated through him, but did nothing at all to change his mind when his stomach growled and muttered impatiently—he needed this meal.

The moment he felt confident enough he sat up on his knees and tilted his head, eyes closed as he reveled in the weight sinking deeper into him. Their scales grated against his tongue in a pleasant, familiar way, and finally the slippery texture of their tail-fins fell into his mouth and down his throat.

Once the weight had fully settled into his core (and by settled, one would more-so say successfully encompassed all of his victim’s vicious struggling) he let out a sigh and opened his eyes.

…

Much like his catch had, he screamed.

Eyes.

Dozens of them all along the shore, little faces peering out at him in utter horror of his actions.

Apparently, plenty of the lake merfolk had heard the cries, but none were all that willing to intervene, and so now they all stared, quietly. He almost felt… judged.

He rose to his feet and crept towards the edge of the water, noting how some drifted away slightly, while others seemed frozen in complete fear.

“Relax,” He purred with the same luxury, a keen smile crossing his face as all the odd little creatures of the lake obeyed. “I’m not one for gluttony—one will be enough.”

He once again dropped to his haunches so that he was closer to them all, his feet dipping into the edge of the water.

He gave himself the suggestion aloud, “Or perhaps two would be enjoyable, hm?”

With how still everything went, one might’ve thought the lake had frozen over. They all did and said nothing, nothing at all. With that being the case, he took action himself, and greedily lunged for another. It flopped and writhed in his hands, but overall was a delightfully easy catch.

At this the chatter started up, and more poked up higher out of the water, up to their chests or waists as they began to panic. Many shook their palms disapprovingly at him, while others simply gawked with the same wide-eyed horror. Certainly, his audience could do better than this, couldn’t they?

Rather than eat this one immediately, he licked at them, creating a coating of saliva from their tail to their head. The rest of the tiny merfolk gasped or cried out in horror, while others spat and snapped at him in disgust. Occasionally his catch spoke out to one of the audience members, whom, from what little understanding he had of mer, must’ve been their friend.

As this merfolk commentated, the one he had in his clutches nodded, slowly and thoughtfully, before looking back to him.

Suddenly, they licked him back.

Afterwards they gave him a meek, uncertain smile, like they were asking him if that were the correct response. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see how all the others leaned in and stared with bated breath, awaiting his response, an intensity burning and exposing—exposing? Yes, for some odd reason, he felt exposed.

He pondered his reply for a moment, before he merely licked them once more. He pulled away, and they once again licked him back. Murmurs started up in the crowd, some worried in tone, while others were harsh snaps and jeers.

He chuckled softly, rearranging his plans, as slowly, he lowered the little merfolk down and let them slip into the water. Surprisingly, they all cheered and their chatter picked up to an excitable pace, rejoicing in the fact he had chosen to let them go.

In his eyes, it wasn’t all that much of a victory, however, merfolk had always been such strange creatures.

The next day, a gentle breeze whisked by, ruffling the feathers of his wings, feathers that which wrapped around him in sanctuary. He laid against the trunk of a willow tree, beginning to doze off to sleep in early morning. The safety of warmth within his own huddled wings, complimented by a subtle fullness—the kind that was just enough—the kind that was satisfying—soothed him to rest.

However, just as he began to slip into a dream, a noise disturbed him: a clopping against the ground, a steady and approaching pace. From his bundled state he opened up, snapping his eyes onto the creature that neared him.

“Oh,” he chuckled as he realized who it was, “it’s been a long time.”

Just a little bit in front of him stood a man, a man whose fluffy, thick hair had little horns that popped out from the top of his head, and a man whose fluffy, thick hair was accompanied with ears. His legs shared all the same coating, and bent like that of a goat’s.

He took a slight step forward, indignantly yanking down the jacket he wore.

“Diosia.” He said quietly, a bitter regard. From how far away he stood, the satyr would’ve appreciated a ten-foot pole to use.

Diosia brightened, a sly smile upon his face. “Hello, Ellsworth.”

Ellsworth’s voice raised in volume as he questioned, “What are you doing here, Diosia?”

He tilted his head, taunting and smug. “Why do I ever travel, Ellsworth?”

Realization dawned upon his face, bitterly so, and the distaste boiled up into anger.

Ellsworth stamped a hoof. “Who did you eat?”

A smile already sly grew bigger as Diosia lounged back, savouring the satyr’s fury. “Ah,” he answered, looking away as if it were but a casual topic to him. “The little creatures in your pond taste quite good.”

“THE MEEeeEER?” Cried Ellsworth with a wretched crack in his voice.

Diosia chuckled and nodded a few times over, smugly.

Ellsworth leaned in and hissed, like a parent scolding a child, “You mustn’t eat those. Endangered the poor creatures are—why! I know you don’t even like them as much as the merfolk of the coast!”

He set his focus back on Ellsworth entirely, and leaned in as well. “I thought you would’ve been happy to see me, old friend.”

“And I,” an anger ticked in Ellsworth’s voice, “thought you were going to watch over the reserve of the coastal cliffs. For its why you settled down there, now didn’t you? If not, I fail to see why the humans would’ve granted the land.”

“Alas, although I quite like the coast, it simply offers me none of the excitement as of late. And my, Ellsworth, it’s been so long since I’ve had the gift of the pleasure from such wonderful delicacies you have here.”

Ellsworth whipped around, shunning him as he muttered, “You’re a disgrace of a siren, Diosia.”

“Oh, calm yourself, Ellsworth. It was but one little mer, I can assure you it won’t hurt anything here.”

Ellsworth glanced back over his shoulder, glaring at him. “And why are you still here?”

“I intended to simply rest for the day and make my way out come nightfall. I’ll have been here for hardly a day.”

“And this won’t become a habit?” Ellsworth questioned. His arms crossed heavily as he turned back around to him.

“It was extenuating circumstances.” Diosia explained, plainly.

“Extenuating circumstances.” Ellsworth grumbled. “Of course, of course it was—“ he whipped his head, sharply. “—and you won’t muck anything up, yes?”

Diosia mourned in reply, “Such a lack of trust, Ellsworth!”

Ellsworth paused, and then for a moment, squinted. A change of tune came to him and he trotted forward, tilting his head back and forth as he tried to wrap himself around something.

“Your wings?”

“What of them?”

“They shimmer?”

“Ah, yes.”

Ellsworth stared for another moment, confusedly.

“Why?”

Diosia set his sights to his wings as well. “I’ve wondered that myself—“ he changed gears, looking back to the satyr. “—You’ll let me stay here and rest, old friend?”

“One day. I want you gone by tonight.”

“One day, of course.”

A moment of questioning lingered as Ellsworth stared him down, before he merely nodded and grumbled to himself, trotting off to whatever area of the reserve that he may have come from. Left to his rest, Diosia curled back up, eager to sleep with the knowledge of a long trip looming ahead come sunset. Even so, for just a little while he kept himself awake, listening carefully.

But no, no, Ellsworth didn’t come back to him.

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#original characters #original writing #acolyte's stories: meryl and diosia #fantasy writing #oc story #romance writing #oc: diosia #oc: meryl #original story #oc writing #uhhh #fucked up man #really #how else can I describe diosia #fucked up monster boy LMAO

[aphroditesacolyte]

Meryl and Diosia Masterpost

This post is a WIP, but this is going to be a summary page and chapterlist for people to use as they please!

Meryl and Diosia is a fantasy romance following a merman and a siren. In their world, sirens are to hunt and eat merfolk, and merfolk are to in turn despise and hunt sirens all the same for their cruel use of enchantments. Fortunately, this is made much easier for merfolk as sirens can only enchant others based upon their sexuality; Meryl, however, whether it be of fortune or not, has found a siren who very well can enchant him. Can he survive this strange, enigmatic predator he's found himself in a dance with?

Chapters

Chapter One

Caught (Tumblr) /// Caught (AO3)

Chapter Two

Knight in Black Feathers (Tumblr) /// Knight in Black Feathers (AO3)

Chapter Three

Meet Me Then (Tumblr) /// Meet Me Then (AO3)

Chapter Four

Diosia's Master Plan (Tumblr) /// Diosia's Master Plan (AO3)

Chapter Five

About You (Tumblr) /// About You (AO3)

Chapter Six

Plan Reformed (Tumblr) /// Plan Reformed (AO3)

Chapter Seven

'Secret' Admirer (Tumblr) /// 'Secret" Admirer (AO3)

Chapter Eight

(Almost) According to Plan (Tumblr) /// (Almost) According to Plan (AO3)

Chapter Nine

It's Sunday (Tumblr) /// It's Sunday (AO3)

Chapter Ten

Nurse (Tumblr) /// Nurse (AO3)

Chapter Eleven

Plot Hole (Tumblr) /// Plot Hole (AO3)

Chapter Twelve

Wake. Up. (Tumblr) /// Wake. Up. (AO3)

Chapter Thirteen

Lovely, Enchanting Even (Tumblr) /// Lovely, Enchanting Even (AO3)

Chapter Fourteen

Your Saccharine Taste (Tumblr) /// Your Saccharine Taste (AO3)

Chapter Fifteen

The Blue Nights (Tumblr) /// The Blue Nights (AO3)

Chapter Sixteen

Self Care (Tumblr) /// Self Care (AO3)

Chapter Seventeen

Imperfect Prey (Tumblr) /// Imperfect Prey (AO3)

Chapter Eighteen

A Quiet Whisper (Tumblr) /// A Quiet Whisper (AO3)

Chapter Nineteen

Oh No (Tumblr) /// Oh No (AO3)

Chapter Twenty

When We Were Young (P1) (Tumblr) /// When We Were Young (P1) (AO3)

#masterpost #original characters #original writing #fantasy writing #romance writing #oc story #acolyte's stories: meryl and diosia #oc writing

[aphroditesacolyte]

Meryl and Diosia

Ch 12. // Wake. Up. // Read on AO3

Masterpost

Summary: A dream grabs hold.

Content warnings: "you will be eaten" vibes, these guys aren't getting anymore normal from here, probably some profanity, some descriptions of violence/murder/being eaten, themes of grief and strong emotion, please read at your own discretion, thank you!

~Approx word count: 3,151 words

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A shark isn’t so scary without its teeth, and an angler-fish isn’t so alluring without a light. It made Bondi feel much more secure in the current circumstances to know that, however, there wasn’t any trust in Diosia keeping his promise. A starved, desperate siren? The moment he could fly, someone like or simply Meryl himself would immediately be on the menu.

So, he’d do what he needed to keep Meryl safe. Of course, he hated to lecture Meryl, but this was important. Meryl’s life teetered right on the edge of awful fate, as it had for far too long now. The bile of thought crept up through his conscience, tainting him. He pictured it so vividly, what could happen—what would happen if Meryl wasn’t afraid. To have one’s own flesh torn and grazed, taken up and devoured by a monster, to have ones tears spilled against another’s tongue, to have one’s blood trickle down their lips and throat, to be utterly melted in their core… that was to love Diosia, and it infuriated Bondi that Meryl couldn’t see that.

Luckily, Meryl acted more fearful and dazed than anything else as they swam back from what Bondi could only pray was the last time that they’d ever see Diosia; Meryl appeared perturbed by seeing the siren. Previously, he thought that meant nothing and that regardless of Meryl’s disgust, Diosia could tug him back in with as little as his voice. Now, however, it was important.

It was foremost to Meryl’s survival that he kept that disdain, that fear, even if the display of such emotions made Bondi’s heart ache. Regardless of the sour taste it gave, he’d have to scare Meryl into never going near Diosia again. It would hurt. Meryl being anything but his kind, cheery self was upsetting to Bondi, creating a longing to protect, to keep his innocent, compassionate being forever safe—to shield it and huddle it and shelter it far away from every wretched creature like Diosia.

The thought that Meryl could be reduced to a meal by anyone at all struck a throng of crushing rage all boiling through his heart and veins, giving way to determination. He would keep Meryl safe.

It started with Meryl understanding what went on. How he had visited Diosia every few nights to see how the injured siren was getting along, and how he slowly began to natter with him, until eventually Diosia apologized all on his own, and everything was cleared up. Once he explained this to Meryl, he hoped there would be no guilt on Meryl’s end. Meryl shouldn’t feel obligated to help the siren—it was doing just fine on its own.

There was no need for further closure—it had been provided—and there was no need for ever meeting eyes with such danger again. He needed to instill this belief, and so long as it were shared between them, he hoped they would be safe. Otherwise, Bondi would have to go to further lengths against the siren.

Hopefully it knew better.

None of this embitterment was shown on Bondi’s face, its glowering breath hidden deep within his chest where it would be found by none else, unless torn up and foolishly unearthed.

“Hey, Meryl? I want to make sure we’re safe first but… we need to talk about what happened and… him.”

Meryl muttered back, “Okay, sounds good.”

The sound came to further agitate him; the passivity that Meryl held had always frustrated Bondi, not due to it being annoying, but rather so detrimental to his close friend. He wished the merman used his voice, though, this was a time that a lack of boldness and demand may come to be better for them both. It comforted him to know that Meryl wouldn’t fight.

 Even so, he could feel the tension rise as they traveled through the trunks and branches of the kelp, nearing his home. Eventually they made it to his spot, quite cozy and now gift-free—he’d have to check where Meryl put them all sometime.

There was no need for any attachment. Not to that beast.

”Meryl.” He spoke, and drew attention over easily;  “Diosia is a killer.”

“I-I know.” Meryl murmured.

The blue eyes were pained with a keen awareness, it made him worried sick.

“I believe I have already informed you; Roka’s sister disappeared a few months ago.” Bondi spoke on, grimly, “No one knows where she went.”

He scanned over Meryl, and took note of how his expression seemed to indicate a recollection of her; Bondi’s own heart still ached whilst thinking of her. She had been a sister to him, she had been family.

“That could’ve been—”

His temper snapped, and his eyes flickered with grieving anger. “It was him. You know it was.” He hissed.

He saw the desperate, wide-eyed denial in Meryl’s innocent face.

”I don’t think you understand how serious it is. It’s easy to think someone disappearing is scary and terrible, but it’s hard to understand what it really entails. She was killed, Meryl, and I know you didn’t know her well, but I did.”

Meryl’s lips pressed together tightly, creating a thin, sad line.

”Do you realize what it’s like, Meryl?”

A saddened love burned in Meryl’s eyes, a desperate, desperate feeling of sympathy. The look grounded him, that look of love and understanding. Meryl understood the pain well, even if he were yet to feel the wound himself.

“Do you realize what she must’ve felt? How the world must’ve been for her then?”

Meryl rasped, “Bondi, I am so sor—”

“It had to of been terrifying, Meryl.” His arms crossed tightly over his chest, as if to further bury the pain that swelled and ached within him, and then found the strength to continue on in a slight croak, “Do you know what it means to be killed by a siren? Have you heard the stories?”

“I… only when I was younger. I don’t remember. I know what being eaten is, I just—”

Bondi let himself become timid, his voice soft and lingering, reminiscent in a hollowing, decayed way. “I know a story similar to it; you know the story of Selkie, don’t you?”

“The mermaid who follows a river stream because she wants to find a pearl?”

At this point, he claimed control of his tone. It became factual, a cadence of a history teacher, or a dull mentor. He went on, “Yes. She’s adventurous and kind, and one day goes out looking for a pearl amongst the bed of the river Ictalurus, fabled to be the home of both treasures and beasts.”

“I already know how the story ends, Bondi—”

“She’s swallowed up whole by the catfish that lives there, and Selkie is lost.”

Meryl argued, softly, “Diosia isn’t a catfish.”

“But he could swallow you whole like one.”

Meryl recoiled at this brazen remark; a hateful curl of his hand indicated his shock, and Bondi felt suddenly snared by the reaction. Still, he continued on;

“Sirens are monsters. His jaws will part, wide enough to take you in entirely. They aren’t like us. They don’t kill their food and prep them first, they pick something up, and they bite in, or they skip it entirely and just swallow. They’re too ravenous, too savage to do otherwise.”

“I’m lucky to have never experienced it. Imagine a sweltering net, crafted out of a dozen manta rays all sown together, pressed to your face to the point that you can’t breathe. It’s slick and suffocating: that’s what it would be like in his throat.” Bondi growled.

He went on, “If you’re lucky, you might just asphyxiate before the pain begins, but with sirens, the chances are low. They’re creatures of hell itself, Meryl. They are made to punish and torment our kind, and nothing more.

“If you survive being swallowed, it only gets worse. It starts to tingle, so lightly and subtly that you might miss it in the dark, dark panic it will put you in. It’ll get worse and worse, and then it’ll burn. It’ll rise up, and the taste and scent of acid consuming your own body might just be enough to make you puke.

“And that wouldn’t change a thing. You’d be luckier if he tore out your intestines and ate them while you watched, but he’s fascinated with you Meryl. He wouldn’t make it merciful. He doesn’t know mercy.”

But unlike Dioisa, Bondi did. He let himself fall silent, and let Meryl fall into his arms.

It was a tight, trembling embrace between them, one that jarred all feelings out of him and left him tearful as well. Meryl burrowed into him preciously, and he returned it as the unwanted poignance leered over him still.

“I’m sorry.” Bondi murmured.

"I love you, Bondi."

“I love you too, Meryl.”

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The rough grit of rock against Meryl's back was a reminder of the conversation he had just been in, only last night. He huddled further into the grit within his little den, his teeth rolling over his lower lip as it became bitten raw by thought. When he looked at the culmination of every event and everything that had occurred thus far, the immediate, logical thought was to avoid the siren at all costs. Then, when he looked to what he wanted—what he longed for—it was Diosia.

Maybe everyone was right, maybe there was no such thing as a good siren. But then, if they were right about someone like Diosia—were they right about him? The thought stung like an open wound.

Bondi didn’t seem to think poorly of him, nothing that he knew anyways, and Bondi was always very open about those things: opinionated. Bondi wouldn’t fake a twenty-or-something-year friendship, he knew that, but he wondered if Bondi wasn’t being entirely honest with him. Did he think he was stupid?

He felt stupid.

It was foolish of him, utterly foolish at every turn to ever go back to Diosia at all, let alone willingly. What made it worse was that for as many bad things and reasons he should stay away, he could find good ones. The only thing Diosia had done that was slightly unjustifiable in his mind was to hurt Bondi, otherwise, he didn’t mind all that much. It was funny considering how scary he thought Diosia was.

Diosia, someone who could take everything from him in the blink of an eye, hardly more than a few simple movements of the hand to do so, and only have to lick his lips after—that’s what Diosia was. But that felt too simplistic in his mind, Diosia was more.

Diosia was patient, in his own odd, diluted way. He listened carefully, became attentive to all details of his being. He charmed Meryl greatly despite the fear he instilled; the allure Diosia had was hypnotizing.

He was patient, he was charming, he was attentive, and, though the thought came shallowly, so very handsome. And it was nothing more than a part of Diosia’s being, these were all things natural to him. He didn’t choose to be hypnotizing and enchanting, he simply was. Meryl loved it—almost envied it, even—how someone could naturally be so appealing and pleasant to be around, so enticing. Meanwhile he stressed out over whether or not the pitch and octave of his voice was annoying or not—Diosia’s voice was perfect.

He was perfect, at his core.

A perfect being who did wretched things, some that he couldn’t blame him for, that he had almost begun to darkly sympathize with, and others he just couldn’t understand. He couldn’t understand why Diosia would go out of his way to harm someone other than to eat them.

Besides, Meryl remembered it so clearly. Diosia had promised he wanted no other mer; the powerful, velvety growl replayed in his head over and over again.

Diosia had no business trying to hurt Bondi.

He saw Bondi as an obstacle though, Meryl understood that, as somehow, he could imagine it making sense. Bondi wanted him to have nothing to do with Diosia. It was a logical conclusion to deem Bondi an obstacle in their way of being together, but it wasn’t the case at all.

It wasn’t Bondi who pressed some sort of rift into their relationship, it was Diosia. Diosia who tried to kill his best friend, and Diosia who threatened to eat him, consume him, envelop him entirely and suffocate him in the process.

It was Diosia’s fault, his flawed thinking.

Meryl did not feel without blame of course—he really should’ve kept Bondi out of it, away from that flawed thinking. But he was realizing now that he wasn’t the true cause of Bondi’s wounds or Diosia’s mess. Diosia chose to act poorly, and now they all suffered the consequences.

He thought over what he had seen of Diosia once more, the terrible claw marks dragging down his face, and his heart twinged in empathy. To see Diosia hurt wasn’t as painful as seeing Bondi hurt, not even half as much, but he still hated it so.

Plus, at the very least he should be owed an explanation- a full explanation. Bondi explained that Diosia apologized and that regardless Diosia was still dangerous, but he didn’t even know why Diosia did it, what he was thinking. And why had Diosia ignored him when he sought him out? Yes, he was owed a complete explanation, although Diosia clearly wasn’t going to get up and deliver it, so he’d get it himself.

He pushed out of the mouth of his little den and swam bold and quick in the broad daylight.

He knew exactly where he was going and exactly how to get there. It was all clear in his mind, and yet still said mind was rushing, anxious at the thought of seeing Diosia again for more reason than one. Would Diosia be willing to explain, or would he just start up with the games he always played? What if Meryl didn’t play along and what if he did? More calculations did him no good, he was acting on what he felt was right in his heart.

Even if it may have been wrong.

Quickly the ocean floor began to slope up, telling him he was close to shore. From there he sped along to the estuary, catching the sight of all its shelters of greens and browns, welcoming vegetation under the bright sun.

It wouldn’t be hard to spot Diosia now, in the night the black colours concealed him, but they’d surely expose him in the afternoon, when the sun permitted not a shadow in sight. Unless Diosia had left this spot and hid himself away. In that case, Meryl wasn’t so sure how to find him. However, considering this was where he lounged last night when meeting Bondi, it was likely this is where he’d be staying. Meryl got the sense Diosia was quite fine with sleeping wherever he happened to be; Diosia was comfortable and confident. And perfect.

Meryl slowed as patches of sand along the shore became more familiar, the glimmering waters that reflected the sun itself ever so slightly blinding him as he did so. The patches were bright—they glared at him the same way the water did, while shiny plants breathed normally and the creeping of a bird or a snake gliding across the ground and surface of the water was normal and all the same.

One of the patches were unlike all others, for rather than the yellow grains the most prominent sight was someone sprawled out across it, basking in the sun. He lied on his side, an arm supporting his head while the other was set out against the warmth of the soft sand. His body held only the most subtle of movements, the rise and fall of his chest, for he was otherwise relaxed and still, and a wing notably arched over him and casted some shade over his body.

He slept on his right side to spare his injured face, but in doing so displayed it clearly, as well as many other cuts all along his clothes and body. The position was so passive, so gentle, Meryl immediately felt bad for him.

His hands sunk into the beach’s blanket, cozy and comforting as he leaned over and peered at Diosia, who still slept as blissfully as ever. It was a little endearing.

When he first came, he had been planning to be very stern with Diosia, a cut to the chase. Now he felt as if he could melt into the sand and fall asleep right beside him with how peaceful it looked.

He is NOT cuddly, Meryl scolded himself.

I wish he were.

He inched closer and murmured, “Diosia.”

Diosia shifted ever so slightly, almost burrowing into the sand as he did so.

Meryl reached out and gently placed his hand on his shoulder, immediately gaping at how warm he felt. When he looked back, hazy eyes were slowly taking in his presence.

“H-hello, Diosia.”

He pulled his hand away, heart beating and face set ablaze from the predator that laid out before him who was hardly fazed or bothered by his presence. He wanted to curl up and hide from the piercing yellow that flicked over him casually. Quick to cave in, he was at the very least beginning to cover his flush, bright face.

Diosia still hardly moved, remaining timid and passive as he murmured, “Mmmmm-Merrrrryl...”

“H-hi.”

Diosia smiled ever so slightly, taking slow, lumbering motions, and began to stretch.

“Is—“ he took a long pause to stretch himself out, but half-way through sleepily gave up, flopping down against the sand once more. “—important…?”

Meryl finally reclaimed his focus. “Yes, Diosia. It’s important.”

With a large yawn he answered, “Oooookay.”

The weight of sleep pressed heavily into Dioisa’s features, almost as if the siren hadn’t ever woken up. Enervated by the mere existence of the sun, Diosia was almost lulled to sleep before the conversation even truly began.

“Why have you been ignoring me?”

Diosia gave a tired sigh. “What do you mean?”

“After your fight with Bondi.” He elaborated, gently.

Diosia tilted his head towards him. “Hm?”

“I went looking for you and you weren’t there- anywhere I looked, actually.”

“Oh,” Dioisa uttered, and drowsily pushed himself to a sitting position, where one wing curved beautifully and the other drooped down, spread across the sand. “I’ve been here since then…I’m...hhh…sstuckk.”

“What?”

Diosia sighed in the same tired way, dismissing the question as he curled back up on the ground once again.

“Diosia.” Meryl scolded, raising his tone.

Diosia closed his eyes, ignoring him.

“Tired.”

“Please.”

“Nnn-no.”

Meryl couldn’t fight him on it, helplessly watching as Diosia started doze back off to sleep. All he could do was flop down beside him and wait.

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#original characters #original writing #acolyte's stories: meryl and diosia #fantasy writing #oc story #romance writing #oc: diosia #oc: meryl #original story #oc writing #uh #I am so sorry #things are starting to get a bit more fucked up LMAO #big sorry once again #this is just.. how they are. #how I am too LMAO #tw cannibalism #sort of? #they're different species but like. #is it not cannibalism to (want to) eat your love interest fellas?

[aphroditesacolyte]

Meryl and Diosia

Ch 10. // Nurse // Read on AO3

Masterpost

Summary: A brief explanation of the ensuing consequences.

Content warnings: Sort of the comfort to the prior hurt? profanity as always, please read at your own discretion, thank you!

~Approx word count: 2,584 words

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The day was of dullness and boredom, and its choice in being so was to exasperate already strong feelings of discontent. The sky itself seemed to frown with the clouds’ dark-grey underlines who swallowed up light, a sort of depressing filter that ruined the sunshine. The water was equally disagreeable today, and worst of all, Meryl was alone. His whole family was off tending to their own habits and hobbies and jobs, his friends were all the same, and Diosia was more likely than not asleep. Probably.

He knew he should only bother Bondi when he isn’t busy, or for more important things, but this sad feeling in his chest was important. He could bother Bondi today, just for a little bit. By now if he had to guess, Bondi was finishing up his lunch in his favourite spot to do so, and the thought slowly bubbled into an invitation and became a mere enabler to him as he drifted along the sand; he hoped to sneak up on Bondi. Keeping low, he trailed along until spotting the base of the rock, which informed him that he was quite close. Surely, Bondi would be resting upon this rock as he always would be. However, something caught his eye: out its corner he could see something shimmering against the plain sand, something sharp and pointy.

Uh oh.

It was Bondi’s claws, or at least one half of the pair. Hurriedly, he scooped it up into his hand, and sought out his friend with an overwhelming worry that replaced any melancholy who had its permissions in his heart before. His head poked out of the water and scanned over the rock.

It was empty with all but a broken net holding shells both fragmented and whole. A panic grasped hold of him wickedly, and his searching became more frantic. He practically cried out as water lapped up at the rock and stole away with droplets of blood he hadn’t even realized were there before.

He cried out again, “Bondi!”

His hand tightened around the claw he held as he called out again, frightfully.

“Meryl.” A familiar voice answered from behind him.

He threw himself over to Bondi, quickly trapping him in a hug, while just as quick to pull away when he heard a wince in return.

“A bit late to the party but,” Bondi settled himself alongside Meryl, far enough away for Meryl to see he was splattered with fresh, burning bruises all over. “at least you showed up.”

Meryl tilted his head confusedly, then swiftly dismissed the comment in favour of worrying over his friend.

“Are you alright?”

“Ehhh, I’ve been better,”—Bondi smiled at him—“but at least I’m alive.”

He softly agreed, “That’s good.”

A few moments passed where the conversation went more casually (as he didn’t want to upset him nor pressure Bondi to talk about something he didn’t want to), but eventually Bondi broke the pleasantries that revolved around questionings and studying of the wounds.

“Do you want to know what happened or?”  

He nodded worriedly, finding it difficult to move on from the visual of Bondi so beaten and hurting.

“Alright—” Bondi’s smile was passive-aggressive. “—I will tell you. I HATE that fucker and I was entirely right, and I have SOLID proof that I am.” He gestured to himself grandly. “Diosia tried to kill me.”

Meryl tossed himself back with something between a whimper and a moan.

He groaned, “Why can’t he just stay asleep? He’s not even supposed to be awake right now—"

Bondi’s tone carried the sort of unbothered confidence and calmness that it always did, even though only a half an hour ago he was about to be murdered. “It seems he woke up from his nap for some mid-afternoon homicide. I bet he does it pretty often.”

Meryl’s hands and fingers dug into his forehead, pressing the stress and frustration onto his brow. Why couldn’t Diosia just be normal? And why did he have to like Diosia even a little bit? The next moment hit him harshly however, realizing it was selfish to lament over Diosia when a hurting Bondi was right in front of him. Achingly, he rose and studied Bondi carefully, formulating a plan to care for him. Bondi stared back at him, somewhere between expectant and confused.

He forced himself to speak, by nature with a sweet tone, “Okay—“ he exhaled all the stress locked up in his lungs, only to inhale it once more. “—I think it would be best if you went back home and started to rest. I’ll get you some food.”

“Meryl you don’t have t—"

Swiftly he placed a finger to Bondi’s lips. In reply, Bondi looked down at Meryl’s hand, cross-eyed.

Bondi tried to speak again, “Rea—"

“Shhhh. Go.” Meryl said kindly as he placed the other claw in Bondi’s hand. He then added with a stinging in his throat and eyes, “I’m so sorry, Bondi.”

Both unfortunately and luckily, Bondi was in far too much pain to differ, and so disappeared into the water in a slow, easy manner, likely so as to not hurt himself more. Meryl allowed himself to linger not a second as otherwise he might’ve started crying; he hastily cleaned up the net and then dipped into the water as well. The clams, he figured, would take too long to collect under his self-imposed timeframe, and although it would be harder for Somone like him, fish would work best. He took along the net, whose minor holes would only release a pathetic catch, and began to move.

He stalked through waters, attentive and reverent to his task. His eyes caught sight of scales glittering, and he focused in on a decently sized rockfish, something that would work—as long as he could catch it. He tensed to pounce, clutching the net tightly as he opened it up to prepare it all the same. He had to force himself to not laugh at his own ‘predatory’ stance, and waited a moment more. Then he felt the water whizz against himself, and though his eyes were now pathetically closed, he felt a weight in the net. His heart thudded and pounded from the sudden change in pace and the spike of adrenaline from trying—and succeeding—to catch it. He almost lost it, too, but he managed to keep the fish locked in tight regardless. He peered at it for a moment, wondering if he should… well… or if it should be left up to Bondi.

Decidedly setting off with the live fish, he’d leave it to Bondi. He couldn’t take the idea of accidentally causing it more pain than need be, and Bondi was much more capable than he was. It wasn’t all that likely he was capable of sparing it the pain.

Soon after he found himself brushing against kelp and coming up to Bondi’s home. As he did, it was admittedly awkward to see all the gifts strewn about Bondi’s resting place, and it prodded him with a feeling of guilt. He should’ve never let Bondi get involved with Diosia, not even slightly. He should’ve lied to Bondi about who Diosia was, what he knew about Diosia, where or how he met him, and just happily called it over. He shouldn’t have told Bondi when gifts started showing up, and he should’ve just thrown them all away. Or at the very least, he should’ve listened to Bondi and not dragged him along to visit Diosia.

Now Bondi was hurt, and it was his fault, and he felt idiotic.

Of course, though, Bondi didn’t hold it against him.; Bondi acted like Meryl was an angel just for getting him some food and staying with him to keep him safe—like that wasn’t just the bare minimum. Still, with how stressed he now felt, he appreciated the gentleness.

Eventually, it even turned into something a bit bright between them as they got lost in conversation and jokes. Escaping the trouble felt good for them both. However, he didn’t want to ignore it forever. Diosia attacked him, and he needed to know why.

So, he asked in a tone as clement as he could manage, “Would you mind telling me what happened?”

The story was frightening—and though yes, Bondi could often get loud and intense, he never lied. This was the truth. Diosia wanted his best friend dead. Diosia didn’t mind leaving him grieving and aching… and Diosia sounded injured, too. It made his heart all twisted and upset, though he couldn’t place what sort of attachment it made ache inside of him, he simply knew the pain was there.

It was sort of like feeling betrayed. Was that this feeling? A sinking compression in his chest and the sensation he was hardly getting oxygen, and that he hadn’t eaten a thing as his stomach rolled around?

Whatever the feeling was, he knew one thing: it hurt. And even so, when the sky turned to night and the clouds began to clear as everyone, Bondi included, went off to sleep, he knew he wouldn’t be going home to rest. As a matter of fact, maybe he had a bone to pick.

“Diosia!” He called out amongst the unforgiving shadows and wreckage.

He called again and again to no avail. Diosia was nowhere to be seen in his home, perhaps because he was afraid to talk to Meryl? To place a precise reason would be like hitting a bullseye with one’s eyes closed, there was no true way to tell, only luck and guesses. But still, he searched and searched through the inauspicious black of rock and other things, hopeful that maybe he could still find him.

He called out again, “I’m not mad! I just want to talk, Diosia!”

If Diosia were even listening, he must’ve been unconvinced, as Meryl heard no reply. It seemed as though the lifeless and yet living—the menacing undead of the shore—creatures of Diosia’s home also wondered why he was here. Their judgmental eyes spiritlessly stared into him as he trailed deeper and deeper into danger.By all means and logic he should’ve been running away, however, in his mind that wasn’t logical. An external source told him no, but something nestled deep inside of him told him he had to. Diosia wasn’t a problem that would be disappearing any time soon, not even a little bit, so why bother with an attempt to outrun him?

Maybe if worse came to worse, tonight he’d be taken and his family or friends would no longer be in Diosia’s scope.

Even the clearing sky above him gave no clues, although it at least gave some light at certain patches where it was permissible by the cliffs. The water cleared itself in its new lack of depth, and in this lack of depth the light flourished, highlighting the sand below; it invited an escape from the shadow, and a better watch of what may be above him, for if a mischievous raven chose to fly overhead, he would take note of the silhouette.

But there were no silhouettes. Emptiness filled the whole space in a strangely dead way. He couldn’t even feel the sensation of being watched anymore… it was all just… gone.

He wouldn’t be deterred by Diosia playing hide-and-seek with him though, and so naturally, when he came the little hide-out where Diosia put all his strange things, he sat down stubbornly in wait.

Diosia couldn’t ignore him forever.

 As he sat in wait, the shimmer of a collector’s pride mocked his foolish choice to stay—watches and silver, glass bottles and foreign coins, sweet bronze slightly bitten with rust, and gold of a well acclaimed care made up the piles of which he was surrounded with. A grim thought came to his mind as his head tilted down towards the band along his tail, and his fingers traced the earrings and necklet he wore.

Would his pieces of jewelry be here someday, lying amongst all the beautiful items Diosia hardly cared to prop up or stage? He couldn’t eat the things Meryl wore… but, he didn’t seem like the kind to return things. Were these… trophies?

He tried to shake the thought, and moved onto the next one. It was just as bad, for his eyes set on his own ‘gift’ to Diosia, his claws.

Sh-should I take them back?

He questioned himself. If he were to take them back, he’d be much safer. He’d have at least some sort of defense, and after today, he’d likely need it sometime soon. Diosia was agonizingly scary to him now, in a way he wasn’t before. Diosia hadn’t claimed such a title of horror prior, for words consumed far less space in Meryl’s mind than experiences, and to now experience even just a taste of what Diosia boasted was to have his fantasies shattered. A particular veil of innocence had cloaked Meryl’s vision through teasing and toying with him, but now his face was crested with its ashes. Vague threats were no longer but words. Now, he knew he must’ve been delirious to think that it was something to be amended—that Diosia liked him, and that Diosia would change his heart.

If he could rewind time, he would, but perhaps that would only keep him more oblivious to the nature of who he was dealing with—the person he sat in wait for, the person who a deep dread was caused by, and a sinking hope if not longing for the presence of.

Yet, his fears became irrelevant to his moral compass, to be armed was to be able to hurt. How could he hurt someone? He simply couldn’t. All he could do was wait, stubbornly. Wait for the arrival, for the confrontation... for the strike to be properly dealt.  In the way of the moon, his hopes began to fall as the sun rose and graced the sky with subtle hues of orange and yellow, all the while his question lingered unanswered.

Where was Diosia?

It would haunt him for days as he cared for Bondi, but never cared to ask Bondi himself for the information. Diosia didn’t matter enough to him to bother his best friend, at least that’s what he told himself. But the thought of Diosia bothered him. Was Diosia out there scheming and plotting to kill him, or was he struggling, bound, and trapped somewhere by his own weakened body? Was he sick? Was he well? No answer would come to him.

Now Meryl spent all his time and energy tending to Bondi, keeping him well, doing the chores and tasks Bondi would normally take care of, and keeping Bondi busy with talks, his company, his presence, and his familial love for someone so close to him. He hadn’t uttered a word of Diosia beyond what Bondi felt necessary to discuss, and so his new haunting secret was to know that Dioisa’s home was unoccupied every night as he checked with no one ever being there.

He couldn’t have Bondi believe that he wasn’t ‘over’ the monster who tried to kill them both, and so he kept quiet, and watched Bondi get better and better, deep purple and blue bashes slowly lightening, and eventually disappearing. He was relieved that his friend was alive and well, but he just couldn’t stop wondering where in the world Diosia could’ve possibly gone.

…Would Meryl see him again?

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#original characters #original writing #acolyte's stories: meryl and diosia #fantasy writing #oc story #romance writing #oc: diosia #oc: meryl #original story #oc writing #uhhmmm

[aphroditesacolyte]

Meryl and Diosia

Ch 6. // Plan Reformed // Read on AO3

Masterpost

Summary: Meryl's day out with his best friend, Bondi, becomes suddenly complicated.

Content warnings: Fear/anxiety, profanity (a given in this story lol), drama I suppose

~Approx word count: 1,538 words

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The air was filled with a sense of laughter and reminiscence, a nostalgia pleasant and warm, much like the sunlight spilling into the water. Meryl took in the vibrant fuchsia colour of the scales before him, and how they brightly and playfully struck against the water, splattering some of it across him. He couldn’t retaliate, though, he merely laughed and kept on with their conversation. As always Bondi was so easy to talk to, open, pleasant. They told each-other everything—there was hardly a secret between them, save for just the one thing: Diosia.

He hadn’t the heart to tell Bondi, he didn’t want to pass off that sort of stress. So, it was the one thing he was keeping quiet about. Besides, it was all very contained; Diosia would strictly follow their schedule of seeing one another every two days, and otherwise he wasn’t a problem. Sure, the terrifying idea of visiting and never coming back loomed a little, but he wouldn’t be stopping himself from having to go back by telling Bondi. He’d just make Bondi anxious for him beyond all belief. It was better this way, the way where everyone was perfectly oblivious to the peril he was in, and where everyone was satisfied, content.

The idea of someone being upset or dissatisfied terrified him, too; And that was the wonderful thing about Bondi, that he didn’t have to be scared of upsetting him. Bondi was always so accepting and understanding, it made him feel safe. He was secure with Bondi, and no situation could make that otherwise, as he was a safety haven, a shoulder to cry on and a shield. He was a wonderful friend who didn’t deserve to be burdened with the stress or drama of Diosia’s presence.

Although he had to admit, Diosia was quite pleasant to be around as of late, not even being a little bit cruel, however always ever so slightly menacing, and vague. Either way, Diosia wasn’t someone he needed to worry about with or around Bondi—the two were very pleasantly unrelated and disconnected—and while they spent their time together within the shallow water by the shore (in the middle of the day) it would remain that way.

To his ire, based on the SPLASH sound behind him and the face of concern Bondi had, Diosia had other plans. He let out an exasperated sigh and turned to see a familiar, sly face whose legs were fully submerged in ocean water without a care.

Every.

Damn.

Time.

Couldn’t he enjoy a little time by himself that wasn’t at least 50 feet below the surface? These antics were starting to seem needy.

Diosia’s focus immediately centered on Bondi, and he looked over to his friend to see their sentiments were shared. They both looked as though they were sizing one another up, leaning in and gazing at each-other. Bondi’s brows were furrowed in concern, and he moved closer to Meryl, protectively.

Bondi broke the silence.

“What do you want?” Bondi questioned Diosia, subtly grabbing onto Meryl and pulling him away from Diosia as he asked.

Bondi’s voice carried a lot of spunk, which seemed to fuel deep, rich, eerie laughter.

“Oh—“ even within the water Diosia managed to prowl, curving around and inadvertently pressing them up against the shore. “—I’m simply here to discuss matters with my lovely companion,” He gestured to the mer in question. “Meryl.”

The distrust and distaste in Bondi’s expression was immediate after he huffed a dry laugh in response.

Diosia tilted his head, a smile still sharp as ever as he questioned, “Why, haven’t you told your friend of me, Meryl?”

Meryl shook his head. “I uh… here—I’ll introduce you guys. Bondi,” he said and looked to him before setting his gaze on Diosia. “This is Diosia, and Diosia, this is Bondi.”

Diosia came closer and peered. “Why, he looks like he’d make a lovely snack while you and I chat.”

“That’s not very friendly, Diosia.” Meryl scolded.

Bondi simply crossed his arms, a slightly amused smirk on his face. “Try me, big guy.”

Diosia practically lit up at the remark, and slowly sauntered up to them both before leaning in, staring at Bondi closely. Bondi reciprocated, eyes bold and equally narrowed on Diosia as the two seemed to test one another. Meryl almost leapt between them as Diosia began to pounce, but Bondi’s reaction time was much quicker, and much more clever. Diosia gasped and stumbled back, having been struck directly in the gut by a precisely aimed tail, as his wings flapped and he tried to gain back his balance. For just a moment he hunched over with a slight wince—so strangely vulnerable—before he stood up fully and smiled once more, recovered.

Bondi’s smirk was a little smug. “Shoulda been scarier. I wouldn’t have felt emboldened.”

Meryl stared between the two of them, feeling dreadfully helpless. He had no control over Diosia, and no reason to tell Bondi not to defend himself but… Bondi really was being too bold. He was always bold. Diosia took it as a challenge.

“Very well,” Diosia said with a somewhat dramatic turn as he moved himself a little distance away and paced, or more so treaded, through the water. After a moment he added, tauntingly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Bondi’s mumbled-whisper crept into his ears. “Who the fuck is this guy?”

“I’ll explain later,” he answered briefly before turning to Diosia. “Is there something you need?”

“Ah, yes.” Diosia laughed a little. “I apologize, I got rather distracted.”

Meryl smiled sweetly. “It’s alright, it’s just… I’m pretty sure we agreed to only meet every two days, and I just saw you last night so…”

“I know, I know—and I truly do apologize Meryl, it’s simply that something’s been weighing on my mind as of late.”

Bondi smiled amusedly and then mockingly replied, “Oh?”

Unlike him, it was fairly clear Bondi had no time for Diosia’s… antics.

Diosia’s eyes narrowed on Bondi for a moment before he discarded whatever thought he might’ve had and continued on, “As for our visits, I’d much rather them stop. I was wrong, and I most certainly should not treat anyone in such a way. I hope perhaps one day you’ll forgive me, but as of now simply know you are free and we mustn’t see each-other anymore.”

Meryl’s eyes widened in shock, and Bondi took it as his invitation to hurriedly shoo Diosia away. He sat there, frozen, unable to take it in as their bickering became a background noise until Diosia disappeared. He didn’t move a muscle until Bondi urged him to speak.

“H-huh?” He murmured, still half-submerged in a shocked daze.

Bondi moved in front of him. “Explain.”

The demand somewhat snapped him out of it, but now his mind rushed for the words.

“Uh… what do you want to know?”

“Oh, what do I want to know?” Bondi repeated with a sassy bob of his head. “Mmmm, let me think, that’s a hard one…”

Meryl laughed a little, out of both nervousness and good humor. “I’ll explain it simply: I met Diosia, the next night he saved me from a group of fishermen—“ as he spoke on Bondi looked… somewhere between immensely concerned and appalled, jolting back slightly. “—and then I thought we’d never see each-other again because I wasn’t gonna go out at night anymore but then he found me during the day and…“

The rambling went on until eventually Meryl had gone through just about everything he could (although he certainly skipped a few of the… worse details) and had given an answer to every question Bondi could ask.

“So… he’s an asshole.” Bondi concluded in such a plain, blunt way, like a mere step forward as opposed to the five miles Meryl was just forced to run.

Meryl shrugged a little, hesitantly.

“Well, I mean not completely…” he trailed off.

Bondi nodded. “Right.”

Meryl quietly, sheepishly repeated, “Right.”

Finally, Bondi smiled, somewhat gently.

“Meryl, I’m not mad at you.”

“I… I know.”

Bondi surged forward and gave him a steadying hug before he tenderly withdrew.

“On the bright side, it sounds like he got bored so you don’t have to worry about him anymore. HOWEVER,” Bondi looked to him sharply with a pointed finger. “Don’t you go above the surface or by the shore alone. Just ‘cause he probably moved onto someone tastier doesn’t mean he won’t come back for you later.”

Meryl frowned, to which Bondi paused for a moment.

“You don’t… think he actually did that to be nice, do you?”

He couldn’t reply, and so Bondi gently sighed and moved on.

“Let’s just… keep our distance from creatures specifically designed to eat us, yeah?”

Meryl nodded in agreement, a break would from Diosia would be good. “Yeah. I’ll stay safe Bondi, I promise.”

Bondi smiled kindly once more. “Then c’mon,” he came up to his side and playfully jabbed him with an elbow. “We can celebrate your new found freedom.” He teased.

Meryl laughed slightly, “Alright, alright. Let’s just focus on something else now.”

And so, they did.

However, they were both a little wrong. It was far from over.

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#original characters #original writing #acolyte's stories: meryl and diosia #fantasy writing #oc story #romance writing #oc: diosia #oc: meryl #original story #merfolk oc #siren oc #oc writing #original fiction #story writing #my wip

[aphroditesacolyte]

Meryl and Diosia

Ch 2. // Knight in Black Feathers // Read on AO3

Masterpost

Summary: Meryl seeks some alone time out at sea rather than by the shore, and finds that even then he is not safe.

Content warnings: Self esteem issues, implied murder, some crying/breaking down, potentially other unmarked things

~Approx word count: 3,500

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Once more Meryl slipped away and spent the night roaming, enjoying the deep rich colour of blue that surrounded him, and the unobscured nectar of silver light sept into the water, too. Ordinary as it was, and as far away as he trailed from the shore (for although he could be foolish, he knew better than to go after someone who had both the capabilities, and likely the willingness to kill him) he still hadn’t found peace tonight. A little ways out, trudging along, was a massive, black creature that dipped its belly into the water, gliding along the surface in the way of a monster.

Despite how foreign it was, he recognized it well for what it was: a ship.

Those weren’t entirely unusual, however, for its existence he felt a sour distaste, as cruelly and wickedly as it could, it tucked along its scythe: a massive fishing net. Meryl knew very little of the human world, however, he knew one thing, humans weren’t allowed to fish here. It was an area protected from it, disallowed. Yet the black beast, to his dismay, chugged on—in his direction, as a matter of a fact. Yes, it kept moving, moving towards where his family and colony slept peacefully and with great vulnerability, and where fish colonies were rich and plentiful.

These humans were not welcome there, and he knew exactly how he’d deter them. He’d seen it done before, as these certainly weren’t an outlier in occurrences, but he’d never done it on his own. He’d only handled all the cut nets and lines and the disposal of them. His father said he was too weak to take care of it otherwise.

But he could do it. He could chase them away; from what he saw, there was only one net, and even if they had a spare, he could easily get that, too.

So, he headed back home on a mission for passive sabotage and slipped between weeds and coral until he came into the comfortable, caved out spot very close to his family’s sleeping quarters. As long as he was stealthy, he would be fine; They were all heavy sleepers.

Meryl wished he were a heavy sleeper, instead he wandered these unholy hours of the night, aimlessly.

Despite his train of thought he lingered not a moment longer than need-be to acclimate himself to his new goal, and he quickly rushed over to a compartment of carved stone within his den, sliding off its lid. He allowed for the thick slab to sink slowly to the ground before he searched inside.

His eyes happened upon his target quickly.

The gold colour was something opulent and appealing to the eye—most other merfolk wore bronze or silver or metal of other kinds, while his was special, made of rich and most valuable metal. It felt an irony to him, to be treated as if he were better, when he felt he was the only one of the colony worth less.

The metal shimmered and shined as he dared to pick them up, and gazed at the sharp, pointed ends. It was easy to tell from its condition it went entirely unused; it looked pristinely new. Its build (in his opinion) was strange, how there were so many parts that had to click and move to allow proper use of the hands. The armor hugged along the top of one’s fingers and closed together at the base, leaving the bottom edge of one’s appendages unprotected, but the way the claws curved would make it very difficult for someone to hurt his palm or other exposed parts of his hand.

Uncomfortably, he began to slip it on, and felt the ring (sized specifically to his wrist) click onto him like a bracelet or band with all of its suffocating, overbearing weight. He cringed as it bit onto each one of his fingers and fully locked into place. Instinctively, he flexed his hand and stared in a tinge of horror as it became something quite monstrous.

An involuntary shutter came to him as memories of the tool crept into his mind, images burned of how the water had turned itself to a deep, violent red. Under any circumstance but his, they were to kill. “To defend yourself” his father would insist, but he’d rather be killed than do something so grizzly to anyone. That sort of burning grief and guilt, regardless of whom he harmed, already haunted him. And though he’d only have to use it once—and it wouldn’t even be on anyone else—he couldn’t. It felt wrong, so each piece un-clicked and he cautiously, so slowly and fearfully, pulled it off and placed it back into the stone compartment it had come from before he heaved up the lid and pushed it back on. In favour of the murder weapon, he picked up a particularly sharp shell and set off. It would do the job of cutting rope just as well.

Soon enough he was getting close, and his pace died down in favor of motions more watchful, less prone to getting himself caught. High above him was the ship, and as he met eye-to-eye with the barnacles (the closest thing the creature would ever have to eyes) he grasped the shell carefully. His movement was calculated and hesitant as he pressed forward and found himself nearer and nearer to the boat, yet he couldn’t see any sort of lines or nets down yet.

Maybe they had taken it up?

His heart sank.

 If they had done that, it meant they already caught all the fish they wanted. It was quiet here, though. They hadn’t come across any of the good spots yet as far as he was aware, though he only found the ship recently. He wondered what made them so desperate to hunt on these waters.

His answer came in a terrifying way as he felt something push him forward, wrapping and encapsulating him entirely. He thrashed and panicked against the net as it yanked his weapon away from him—I should’ve been holding on tighter, he scolded himself in the midst of his struggling.

He pushed and swam against the net, but whatever hoisted it up was far stronger than he was.

How many humans were pulling this net?

 It only heightened his fear to realize he’d be in their grasp when it was clear these ones meant harm, if not to him then to his home, and frankly, to hurt his home was to hurt him either way. He fought mightily against it and regretted the fact he hadn’t taken the claws instead; those would be helpful right now. He couldn’t idiotically drop those.

He let out something between a whimper and a shout as he was jostled and tossed repeatedly. Tugged upwards and forced out of the water completely, every droplet began to run away from him and die below, bringing him morning for every bit of water that he lost.

The side of the ship was nothing of note, something he practically missed from the great haste he was taken up with, and even swifter afterwards, he had made it up to the deck to be flashed with violent light. His eyes squinted shut in discomfort and he covered his ears, mostly at the sound of human chatter, but there were plenty of heavy, foreign clatterings accompanying them.

Once he felt the light ease up, he opened his eyes, just in time to watch as a few humans grasped onto the net and shoved him down. He was pressed to a cold, strange floor that was dark and metallic. It reminded him of the feeling of the claws, and what he imagined they’d feel like when they were dry.

He tried to push himself up, but the net still wrapped around him tightly, like a snake eagerly coiling its prey. It did him no use, but he looked around anyways, somewhat frantic to understand how many humans he was with. He could only count about six. Six humans lifted him up with such ease?

One reached over to the net, and seemed to untangle it until another human spoke.

“What are you doing?” They asked the other human, angrily.

The questioning human was a tall and dark figure who loomed over almost the entirety of the human group. They must’ve been the important one, he thought.

The one that had grasped the net stared. “We’re letting him go, aren’t we? They aren’t legal to sell.”

The dark human looked at the helpful human with a grimace as its gaze now pounded down at Meryl. “And that’ll make it sell all the better. Put it away.”

“Dead or alive?” An obscure human asked, and his heart might’ve tasted a brief moment of death as it skipped a beat.

“Alive.” They said bluntly, and began to walk away before it turned back. “You,” they pointed to the helpful human who still clutched the net. He noticed the look of shock on the kind human’s face. “If you like it so much, put it away.”

“Yes sir.” This second human mumbled quietly, then looked back down to him.

He stared up with pleading eyes.

 Out of all the humans, this one seemed kind. He hoped dearly he could convince it to save him. Another human or two joined it, but rather than removing the net, they decidedly cut it and sealed it back up with some other material winding around it. It made the net feel like an even tighter space, so he spoke out helplessly against it.

“Please let me go.” He pleaded and squirmed, but the humans only seemed to gaze away, perhaps out of guilt, or maybe it truly was an apathy.

He begged and begged again, and no response was received.

 They tossed him onto something strange to secure him, then left him be. He was alone with all but one human as company; it was the helpful human who stared at him pitifully. He could see the gentle roundness and wrinkles of their face, and their white hair that flopped down like strings of seaweed. They looked sympathetic.

“I’m sorry.” They said quietly, compassionately, before they turned and walked away.

He appreciated the sympathy, he felt terribly ungrateful for it too, but… it wasn’t that helpful.

 Now he was entirely, completely alone and there wasn’t a prospect of escape anywhere, which left all the room for hopelessness to hollow him out and make its home inside of him. The true direness of his situation began to press into him mercilessly, an erratic beat in his chest and a twisting in his stomach. When he squirmed and thrashed, the feelings only seemed to heighten as the net gave no care to his desperation. He watched humans walk by carelessly, and his eyes began to water. To this he scolded himself: water is too important to waste right now, crying and struggling would probably just make him dry out quicker.

A long time went by, a few hours perhaps, and by then Meryl felt a little lightheaded. His body allowed for him to breath above water to a certain degree, but it functioned best beneath, where the gills along his neck outmatched by far the small pair of human-like lungs in his chest.

The world was dizzying and confusing, and distant noises such as the shouting of men and splashing of water were only vague in his mind.

One by one the crew seemed to disappear.

 He knew it was happening, but he had no idea why, and his brain was too blurry to muster a substitute answer for him or otherwise wonder. He let out a distressed whimper at his state. Was there going to be someone who came for him? This was painful and uncomfortable. He was vulnerable and dry and dizzy and all sorts of disorientated by tonight and now he wished he had just stayed home and tried to sleep like a normal mer. Why couldn’t he ever just be a normal mer?

Meryl’s body froze up as he heard the thudding of footsteps approaching, and suddenly the air powerfully whisked by him and made a WHOOSH sound, as if someone had just… flapped their wings.

“Oh my,” came a familiar voice, and Meryl scrambled to look around and place it. In the gross yellow, dystopian, and fake light Diosia looked much different. Scarier. “Why, they even left me a treat.” Diosia purred as he placed his hands down on the edge of whatever Meryl was on.

His narrowed eyes and a smug curve to his lips suggested something sinister, and in the light the yellow of his eyes looked saturated. Meryl was frightened and half-dazed, he couldn’t muster a reply if he wanted to.

Diosia chuckled as he leaned in and studied his condition. “You’re a rather unlucky thing, aren’t you?” He asked as he tugged at the net briefly before he rose back up and brought himself high.

Meryl weakly nodded, laying down and curled up as much as he could be. He’d reply to Diosia kindly if he could, he felt awful for not answering, but he felt truly terrible.

“You’re rather quiet tonight,” Diosia mused as he prowled about the table Meryl had been left on. “Something wrong in particular? Or was our first meeting merely an exception to your typical?”

Meryl realized maybe this was his chance.

“W-water.” He croaked out, so hoarse and faint one might’ve thought they imagined it.

“Ah, you’re thirsty? Very well then…”

Meryl tried to poke his head up as Diosia disappeared somewhere. His sight tried to follow the black of his wings, but those too disappeared behind a corner of the vessel. It was clear the siren misunderstood, but as long as he was brought his water, he’d be fine. He rested his head for a brief moment to be interrupted by the sound of Diosia returning.

THUD and Diosia stood on the surface with him too, a cup in his hand and a sly, plotting look on his face as he bent down to sit. He set himself down and even through the netting pulled Meryl close to his liking, using each strand as if it were a puppet’s string to adjust him to be forwards facing and back pressed against Diosia as his legs looped around Meryl.

Diosia grabbed his chin, which made the netting cut into him, and forced it to tilt upwards as he pressed the cup to his lips. Meryl hadn’t any sort of energy or power to resist, and regardless of whether or not he did, Diosia would have total power over him as long as he fancied. He obediently drank until Diosia pulled the cup away.

“Better?” He asked Meryl as he forced him to look over to him.

“I-in water.” Meryl murmured back.

With a sudden, great poise Diosia rose and let go of Meryl, and Meryl realized all the support he had provided, how heavily he had been leaning against Diosia. However, he was given hardly any time at all to register or think further as the heaving sensation of gravity tugged his whole body down and pressed him to the bottom of the net. His brain was given just enough time to understand that Diosia was flying before a little short of his entire body was dunked beneath the water and held there.

The sensation of relief was powerful—that was two things checked off. Escape the humans, breathe clearly. But a third problem had so kindly graced him now.

 Diosia had him entirely in his clutches—he was helpless still, just helpless to a different name. There would be no chances for running unless Diosia let him go, and why would he do that? He already noticed how the water pushed along, and with the view from above it was clear Diosia was carrying him along towards shore. With a revitalized breath and mind, he battled powerfully against this newly assigned fate.

No matter who it was for, he was NOT going to be dinner.

But by his odds it seemed he was, as now Diosia had scooped him back up out of the water, and they were soaring incredibly high while only going higher. Meryl watched in horror as the sight of water, of familiarity and safety, disappeared below them and was replaced with the rocky top of a cliff, whom encroached closer and closer until (with a surprising amount of gentleness) he was set down to become acquainted with the ground.

His breathing was heavy as he gazed about and tried to seek out the nearest body of water. He found the edge of the cliff taunted him with the prospect of all the water just below it, but that was mixed with jagged rocks, and he couldn’t out-swim Diosia even if he somehow managed to land safely and consciously.

His anxiety crashed down and forced a cave-in, and so he conceded to the fact he was trapped with Diosia, and now he could only cower and hope that Diosia may make it painless for him.

Speaking of him, he approached. Meryl scrambled away desperately and gasped with shock as even though he was already aware, it truly solidified an image of death in his mind.

He was lulled and forced to be tame by the sweet sound of song, and Diosia loomed over him for a moment.

“I will be back soon, little mer.” His wings began to spread as he took a few light steps away. “I’d advise staying still for both our sakes.”

And then again Diosia was gone. Meryl whimpered and clutched at the netting for some shred of comfort, cuddling into the sharp, unfriendly edges as if it were a blanket, for it was all he had, and maybe all he would until he was dead. Tears formed at the corner of his eyes and began to flow easily, and he couldn’t help but tremble. It’s not as though, this time, his crying inconvenienced anyone. It was a long time before something aside from his sharp, sobbing inhales could be heard.

“Meryl.” Came a soft voice, sweet and still harmonic.

He curled into himself more, and didn’t bother replying—which only made his crying worse as guilt sept into him from ignoring someone.

“Y-y-yeah?” He managed to chatter out.

He heard the gentle grating of something against the net, and glanced up to see how Diosia cut it away.

“Are you alright?”

Diosia’s expression was unreadable. It was nothing sympathetic, but nothing cruel or menacing either. He didn’t know Diosia well, but it felt strange, maybe out of character.

The question broke him.

“No!” He sobbed and collapsed into himself in the same way the net had fallen around him now.

Suddenly, he was lifted out of the coils of rope and into something gentle and warm. It wrapped around him entirely, and shielded him from anything but himself. He appreciated the gentle act of sympathy, especially right before he’d be gone, and so thanked him quietly.

Diosia did not sing nor speak. He only breathed, peacefully. Meryl cried a little more, and the emergence of a gentle voice broke him down further.

“I won’t hurt you, Meryl.”

He didn’t question it, he took every word as the truth it was intended to be perceived as, and wrapped his arms around Diosia tightly. “TH-th-thank you.” He whimpered and sniffled.

Diosia sang a few tender notes and calmed Meryl’s mind, chasing away every fear and anxiety that plagued him. Slowly, Diosia’s embrace retracted, and Meryl understood it was time to let go.

Diosia smiled in a way somewhat similar to what he had become accustomed to. “I’m merely repaying the favour. You saved me, and now I have done the same for you.” He leaned in, finally some of the menace returning as his smile grew. “I won’t owe you anything next time though, little mer.”

Meryl smiled warmly and sweetly in the way he always did. “You owed me nothing,” he spoke as calmly as he could, “but thank you. I won’t forget it.”

Diosia chuckled softly as he rose, and with ease scooped Meryl up in his arms to carry him back to shore. It all went too quickly for him, and before he knew it, he was being gently and insistently placed into the soft tempo of waves retracting over sand. By the time he was set down completely and had adjusted himself to turn around, Diosia was already disappearing again—a bleak, almost invisible figure in the night. He dipped his head beneath the relieving familiarity of the water, although he was tempted to simply gawk, and made his way back home as well.

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#original writing #original story #original characters #oc story #fantasy writing #romance writing #acolyte's stories: meryl and diosia #OC: Diosia #OC: Meryl

[aphroditesacolyte]

Meryl and Diosia

Ch 1. // Caught // Read on AO3

Masterpost

Summary: The first dance with death.

Content warnings: Danger/General menacing aura, physical violence, peril and other unmarked stuffs

~Approx word count: 2,500

================================================

Meryl slowly lifted his head to the surface to be brushed by the cold air, and patiently waited for the water to run down his face before he breathed in and sighed out. The merfolk bobbed up and down along slightly with the sea. He studied everything around him, and although it seemed he was alone, was still dissatisfied.

Alone did not necessarily mean private.

He gazed at the silver light painted that shuttered and wavered across the water for a moment, before he ducked back down and continued on, headed for shore. The ground below rose up, becoming taller and taller, until it forced him to duck down further in order to not be noticed. Soon, he bordered the shore and the water became much more shallow. It was still deep, though.

Along this path the merfolk traveled, whose skin was light like clean wool, and whose turquoise scales echoed the most gorgeous shade of water one could ever gaze upon, the most subtle ode to his original home. His tail was a great length, perhaps twice that of his human torso, and was adorned with clean, neat fins of a similar blue colour save for its lighter shade. Without scrutinizing his fins further—the two on the end of his tail, and the two subtle, almost ribbon-like ones that ran along his sides and died out before reaching the tail’s end—one would take it for an opaque surface; however, it had the slightest transparency to it, too.

Meryl hadn’t been out this way often before; he rarely got this close to land, for it was a place strange and foreign to him. The terrain began to shift and jagged rocks all around him looked hostile and wicked; the cliffs from above complimented in their black colour with the shadow they casted, darkening the water. The waters only blackened further with more jagged rocks and fragments of vessels and human things, as if it were a sort of graveyard.

When he swam by the sand he disturbed it, and only uncovered more disturbing things, and so he hugged closer to the surface. All the fish crept in corners and stared bug-eyed.

He didn’t like it here.

He was about to turn back, and then something… called for him? It was a soft and harmonic sound. He froze up as a realization so subtly wriggled its way into him, and now at once he knew exactly what it meant. Memories flickered in his mind like a newly lit flame, and immediately engulfed his senses. He had heard the sound, at the mere age of sixteen, and with it came death, as with such creatures death always followed. Ten years had passed since, however, he still doubted that even as a fully grown merfolk he was strong enough to fight off a siren.

Alas, he was anything but strong enough to resist its voice, either. The sound lured him along unwillingly, and he fought with impulse after impulse, pushing himself back a few feet only to push himself forward a few more. In this fight his struggles became fruitless, and he had almost begun to embrace his helplessness when the sound finally stopped. His head lifted up above the water to get a better look, and yet he was still alone. Alone, but—

Beat, beat, beat came the sounds of wings. He whipped around to see it, and his eyes took in the sight of a creature tall and large—a monster by all definitions. Sirens were no friend; they were quite the opposite. If a fox was an enemy to a hare, and a wolf to that of a deer, then in the same way were sirens to his own. The creature before him was to consume him, that he was certain of. Frozen beneath the devouring gaze, he could hardly speak nor think, finding himself utterly breathless by the sight. It stood tall upon one of the jagged rocks, its eyes a bright yellow and the night-black of its wings sumptuous and impressive. The sun-coloured eyes absorbed everything about him, from the hue of his scales and gold jewelry strewn across his body, to the curls in his hair and blue in his eyes.

The creature thoughtfully paced forward, each step with its own elegance, a key part in a graceful dance that its talons enacted and its legs crossed to creature further enrapturement. The closest creature a siren could be compared to were perhaps his own, or that of a human, for from their waist to their head, they held the same human-like torso. Along its body feathers made themselves at home at various places, from its shoulders to the back from which its wings were mounted, and its legs—that of a human’s, save for talon-like-feet—were covered by dozens of folds of cloth the colour of onyx. Its chin and shoulders held high and bold, sly smirk upon its face. It was very handsome, and the way it held itself reminded Meryl to correct his own stance.

Once it was close, it spoke as if it were humored, “Well, hello there. Aren’t you a little far from home? Hm?”

Its voice was hypnotic and melting.

Meryl stammered, “Yes, I’m so very sorry. I did not mean to intrude.”

Its eyes flicked up and down.

“It is only of a minor intrusion. I’m not one to mind company.” It replied with a grin.

Meryl kindly reciprocated the smile—here’s to hoping you’re not hungry tonight. “I’m glad, may I ask your name?”

Smoothly, the creature lowered itself to its haunches to get a better look at him, seemingly more fascinated with his form than anything else. “I am Diosia—“Meryl’s heart lurched when their eyes met. “—And you are?”

“Meryl.” He answered, trying to maintain a friendly smile despite his nervousness.

Diosia sat down comfortably, and then suddenly reached out for him. Brought into submission by the hum of a sweet, mesmerizing voice, Diosia dragged him up onto the rock with ease.

“Oh please, sit with me.” Diosia purred over him with a sly grin.

Meryl tried to shake it off, laughing slightly as he tucked himself in. “Well, you are friendly enough to.”

Diosia leaned in a little, his voice somewhere between teasing and taunting. “So it would seem.” Sharply, Diosia changed the topic. “Might I ask where you received the gold from?” He enquired as he tapped against the band—a golden one which matched the base of his tail and curved to complimented the natural, rounded V shape he had there.

“My jewelry has all been gifted to me by my family.”

“Ah, that’s so very sweet of them.”

Something about the tone didn’t feel right.

Abruptly, Diosia’s scanning and assessment seemed to cease, and he leaned forward and grabbed Meryl.

Diosia held a firm yet gentle grasp around his wrist and spread out his palm to study it. “Where are your claws?” He went on to inspect them with a smug curiosity. “Certainly, if you intended to go out, you’d wear them-“

“I don’t use claws.” He replied softly.

Diosia smiled wider. “Oh?”

He felt uncomfortable elaborating to the stranger, and so he simply nodded.

“Well… I must admit, that is a surprise,” Diosia leaned in and loomed over him, pressing his hand and arm into the stone below as he did so. “But, certainly a welcome one to have an unarmed mer in my midst. You’ll be fun—I can already tell.”

Meryl flinched at the emphasis of the word, but still only stared up at the creature with a wonder in his eyes. To be in its presence was the sensation of having something divine wash over you, something seraphic. All at once calm and yet fear washed over him as Diosia’s eyes met his.

Meryl’s breath hitched as Diosia leaned in, and seemingly belittled, “Not even going to fight me, little mer?”

“I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” Meryl replied, earnest and calm.

Diosia retreated a little, taken aback by the remark, but then he laughed softly and spoke on, “You couldn’t if you tried.”

Meryl’s reasoning was obscured by memory, the memory of someone he couldn’t save. He didn’t want to hurt this siren—there were already so few left.

“I wouldn’t try.”

A more warm, inquisitive look answered back, but then Diosia pulled it all away. “It would be lovely to have a willing meal, wouldn’t it?” He pondered, a purr to his tone taunting and threatening, yet very velvety.

He gave a meek smile back. “Oh, I don’t mean that. I would like if you let go of my arm, please.”

Surprisingly, Diosia let go, and slowly drew his hand away as he studied the mer some more.

A smirk came back to Diosia’s face. “If you do not wish to be eaten, but you do not wish to fight, what are your options, little mer?”

In a friendly gesture, Meryl sat himself up and smiled. “I’d be happy to talk!”

A mocking chuckle in reply made him shrivel up a little, and in an act of shielding he subconsciously tucked his head and shoulders in. He wanted to have hope with this creature, as he had seen its kind be compassionate before. Diosia was capable, he knew he was so.

“Oh no,”—Diosia looked entertained, but still deathly serious—“run.”

Diosia leapt at him and he yelped in surprise, hastily rolling off the rock and struggling off of the harsh surface as his body rapidly garnered terrible cuts and scrapes from scrambling away. He dived half-way into the water until, to his horror, he was tugged back upwards.

He struggled and thrashed and pushed away from its wall beneath the water until he was very purposefully released and rolled over himself, whacking his head against it. One of his hands grasped his head to support himself, but he quickly and desperately darted away regardless of the pain.

Adrenaline became the new thrumming in his chest. He dared to glance behind himself to see if he was being pursued and saw no one. Out of suspicion, his pace slightly slowed, and he took note of how bright the water was. Below the sand almost looked like snow with how it was illuminated, but then he froze, realizing there was more than moonlight and his own silhouette strewn across the floor.

He hardly had time to look up as Diosia dove beneath the water and grabbed hold of him, trying to bring him up to the surface. He regretted having to do it, but it was for his own survival.

He whipped his tail against the siren, and the shock forced his release. Then he continued to swim, trying to avoid patches of light in order to best obscure himself from the surface as he cared not for being easily plucked up and eaten. Without a thought he pushed himself into a crack in one of the many wrecked ships, and gazed at where he came from warily. What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? Pointlessly looking about, he sought for his answer.

By some miracle, it came to him in the form of that of a loathsome, ugly snake, and yet majestic angel all at once. He set his eyes upon it, and saw how each awful string crossed over and intertwined with another to ensure as much damage as possible. He could hardly keep count of how many he had disposed of before, it was a weapon he could handle. And it wasn’t lethal, too. He snatched up the net and braced himself, poking his head outside his refuge. It looked… ‘safe’, so he proceeded to squeeze himself out of the tight space.

Unfortunately, Diosia spotted him first.

Diosia dove after him as a gannet plunged after a fish, causing him to flail clumsily with his tool. They tangled with one another between the net, and he felt Diosia grasp and claw at him while he struggled in the chaos. He could hardly understand what had happened until he could pull away, and turned back to see Diosia’s wings and arms bound tight with the net.

He had done it.

But now Diosia was drowning.

He panicked and hastily rushed back over to him, wincing slightly as Diosia clutched and scratched at him like a mad man, but luckily cooperated with moving upwards. He brought Diosia’s head above water and hauled him over to one of the many jagged rocks that still provided platforms with great swiftness, but still felt Diosia go limp. He felt terribly confused, until he saw how the rope twined about his neck.

Shit.

It wasn’t Diosia drowning, it was Diosia choking. Quickly and easily he unwound the net, however Diosia remained limp against the black, bumpy stone beneath them.

Tears began to spill over as he looked over the siren, worry quivering in his eyes.

No, no, no please I didn’t want to hurt you—

He whimpered and buried his face into Diosia’s chest helplessly; he didn’t know what to do. Quietly he sobbed into the corpse, another wretched mistake that made him good-for-nothing. He gasped violently through what were now ugly sobs before he felt something brush against him. His heart still ached terribly with the thought of killing the siren, being responsible for another siren’s death. His face met Diosia’s and was overwhelmed to be met back with live, moving pupils.

They stared at each-other for a moment before Meryl sniffled out, “I’m so sorry. I-I-I really didn’t want to hurt you I should’ve been more careful—“

A slight smile came upon Diosia’s face as a matching laugh escaped his lips. He settled himself back and leaned deeply into the rock, closing his eyes for a moment.

“No need to be sorry,” he spoke softly and hoarsely, “thank you. You are much kinder than I.”

“O-of course. I’d always help, I really didn’t mean it—” he cut off his own words as Diosia weakly lifted himself up, and Meryl realized his weight had been pressing down on him.

He fumbled off of him and stared a moment more.

Diosia looked much more peaceful and down to earth from this angle, strewn out across the rock with wet strands of black hair and feathers clinging to his face and everything around him. Meryl had chosen a rock where the moonlight reached, which also made his skin glimmer and shine smoothly. He was glad to have not hurt him—sirens were very beautiful creatures. Angelic.

Diosia broke the silence. “If I were you,” Diosia went on with a sort of amusement, as if he found it ironic, “I would’ve never spared you. I suppose simply for that I owe you.”

“Oh no,” Meryl spoke tenderly, “you owe me nothing at all! Just… let me go back home safely, please.”

Once again Diosia relaxed and thumped back, nodding once more as his eyes closed. “Go on then.”

Meryl forced himself to sink into the water, still watching Diosia as he did so.

By luck or by the will of the gods, he survived.

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#original writing #original story #original characters #oc writing #oc story #fantasy writing #romance writing #acolyte's stories: Meryl and Diosia #OC: Diosia #OC: Meryl