Page 41 of Whispers of the Deep
“Or clearly you do have bones in your tail,” she corrected herself. “Probably like a spine. We have long bones in our legs instead of many little ones. You can touch if you want.”
Why had she said that? She didn’t want him to touch her. But then he reached out with those strangely warm palms and delicate webs, and slid his hand along the delicate bones of her foot and up her shin.
She watched with strange fascination. The sight of that gray hand, with the glimmering rainbow webs, touching her? It should have been disgusting and instead it just... was. Like anyone else touching her shin.
He hissed out a long sound the moment he found the prominent bone of her shin. Words poured out of his mouth as he was suddenly much closer, yanking her to him so he could use both hands on the bone.
He was gentle, at least. She thought for a second he was going to try to snap it, but no. He just lifted her leg slightly and then moved it around. Watching her skin move with the pressure of his fingertips as the bone remained stiff and unmoving.
Apparently, this was fascinating to him. He asked her a question, although she had no way of knowing what it was. And instead, he finally mimed her kicking her feet, and then undulated the same hand.
With a laugh, she nodded. “I’m sure there’s a more efficient way for me to swim, yes. But that doesn’t make me any faster. My feet and legs are short and there aren’t muscles in them like you have. That’s why I had the flippers, to help me swim like you do.”
She watched him mouth the word “flippers” before moving down to her feet. He took his time, gently prodding the delicate bones. He looked her over so thoroughly, she wondered at his curiosity, and then his gaze flicked up to hers.
He spoke as he asked his questions, but she could see he was talking about a fish. And then he touched his hands to his ribs, then to her feet.
“You think the bones in my feet are like fish ribs?”
He nodded, then mimed snapping something between his hands.
“Fragile,” she snorted. “I guess they would look easily breakable in comparison to you.”
His gaze turned calculating. Pointing at her, he mimed the breaking motion again.
“I’m not as easily breakable as my feet, no.”
He gestured all around them, at the cave, the water, the rusted metal in the back, then pointed back at her.
Pride made her want to tell him that she was fine. That nothing in this place would break her, and she was made of tougher stuff. But the reality was that she knew she wouldn’t last long in here. It was a wet, damp cave with very little promise that air would even stay where it was. She had no idea how old the pipes were that stretched up to the surface, or if the power would eventually go out.
She could probably fix the generator a couple of times. There were enough spare parts lying around that she could make something work. But that would only last for so long.
So, with her pride smarting, she replied, “This place makes me a little more breakable. Being cold and wet means I could get sick easier. There are no vegetables, only the fish you bring me. So I will eventually not have enough of what I need to eat, and I’ll likely die. If you have something you want from me, Arges, you probably need to ask sooner rather than later.”
His brows furrowed and his expression grew troubled. Without another word, he sank beneath the surface and disappeared.
She sighed, watching him go with a strange mixture of relief and worry.
“Byte?” Mira asked. “How much of that did you get?”
The lid of the box popped open. “We’re now at exactly four point two percent. That was a good conversation, Mira!”
Groaning, she fell onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. “I’m never getting out of here.”
Sixteen
Arges
Arges was rather horrified to realize how fragile she was. He’d thought those strange tails were a problem right from the start, mostly because they didn’t bend in the water the way they should, but he assumed it was some past injury that had made her defective.
Now he’d touched them.
Now he knew her tails wouldn’t ever bend, because there was a thick, straight bone preventing them from ever bending the way his tail did. What had she called them? Legs?
The word was immediately matched with something grotesque in his mind. Achromos who wandered about their homes on stiff tails that couldn’t bend no matter how hard they tried to do so. Legs that defied all logic.
But along the current of that memory was the feeling of her warm skin. No scales, unlike his tail, more like touching his own chest. She’d been so soft. Delicate to touch and pliant underneath his hands. She’d let him lift those legs up, and stare at her feet, as she’d called them. She had trusted him to touch her, even wore that smile on her face, and he was... humbled.
