Time and Tide and "One Thousand And One Arabian Nights" [3/?]
anonymous
May 15 2010, 07:21:26 UTC
The next day found him at the beach, wading waist deep in the ocean in a panic when Malaya hadn’t resurfaced for a good twenty minutes. He called her human name, her real name, a mix of them in his confusion before he promptly tossed all his headgear to the shore and dove into the water. He was a seafarer, of course. The water was warm and the salt stung his eyes, but it was nothing too terrible.
Until he realised the very, very steep drop in the ocean floor.
It was like a cliff. One minute he could touch the seabed with his feet, suddenly he was sinking into an underwater trench that was so deep that it faded from the pristine blue-green into an unending darkness. The currents were sudden, cold, powerful and he found himself battling it as hard as possible. The silvery glint of scales of a very large fish may have caught his attention briefly, but he paid it no heed. Nations didn’t die easily, no, but drowning in the Far East would be damned embarrassing to explain to the people of the Ottoman Empire when he was aground again. If he didn’t get chewed to pieces.
He was losing air. His vision was starting to fade slowly.
This really sucked.
Two pairs of arms grabbed him by the armpits and pulled.
Too soon, he broke the surface, gasping for breath as his throat burned with sea water. A strong hand thumped his back and helped him cough it out, something he did gratefully, and as he tiredly floated, the pair of swimmers slowly kicked their way back to shore.
“I thought you’d be a good swimmer,” Malaya said with a slight frown, gently rubbing Turkey’s back. He shot her a poisonous glare as he attempted to wring the water out of his robes.
“You could have died, you fool,” he growled. Now that his face was unmasked, the full force of his severe expression and darkened eyes affected her immensely. She started and immediately looked upset.
“I-I didn’t think you’d come in after me.”
“Are you stupid?” Turkey shouted angrily. “You mean no one jumps in after you’re underwater for ten minutes? Don’t your people care if you drown and die!”
She was trembling under his glare, tears gathering in the corner of her eyes. The other man who had helped her bring Turkey to shore sat down beside her, wrapped an arm around her and squeezed her gently, trying to comfort her, stroking the wet hair out of her face. He frowned lightly at Turkey.
“You come to the Straits of Malacca and do not know of the orang laut?”
Turkey’s eyes narrowed lightly, scowl still in place.
“Orang laut. Sea people. We are the ones who guide the ships into the harbour.”
“And?”
The man raised both his eyebrows.
“We know these waters, breathe them. We speak to the fish. She could have been underwater for an hour and I would not worry.”
Turkey’s scowl was unmoving, but as he shifted his gaze from Malaya to the man, he seemed to want to be convinced even if he sounded utterly disbelieving.
“You’re saying both of you can talk to fish.”
He nodded. “That’s right.”
“And you can hold your breath underwater for an hour.”
“She can only go that long, for now. Soon she will be able to go for even longer.” He turned to Malaya, smiled at her and squeezed her again. “Isn’t that right, Dewi?”
Malaya’s response was to burst into tears as she buried her face in the man’s side.
Turkey felt only a little bad. But that was only because he hated dealing with crybabies.
“All right. All right. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t know. I’m not angry with you anymore, just majorly pissed off. Stop crying, for god’s sake.”
The attempt to calm her down went on for a while until Malaya finally wiped her tears away and was led by the hand to the baths by one of the local women who had been summoned. Once they were out of earshot, Turkey began to strip himself of his robes.
“So, who the hell are you?” Turkey asked gruffly.
“Sumatra,” the man frowned. “I somehow expected better manners from you considering how much my sister talked about you, but you did try to save her life. I will overlook it.”
Until he realised the very, very steep drop in the ocean floor.
It was like a cliff. One minute he could touch the seabed with his feet, suddenly he was sinking into an underwater trench that was so deep that it faded from the pristine blue-green into an unending darkness. The currents were sudden, cold, powerful and he found himself battling it as hard as possible. The silvery glint of scales of a very large fish may have caught his attention briefly, but he paid it no heed. Nations didn’t die easily, no, but drowning in the Far East would be damned embarrassing to explain to the people of the Ottoman Empire when he was aground again. If he didn’t get chewed to pieces.
He was losing air. His vision was starting to fade slowly.
This really sucked.
Two pairs of arms grabbed him by the armpits and pulled.
Too soon, he broke the surface, gasping for breath as his throat burned with sea water. A strong hand thumped his back and helped him cough it out, something he did gratefully, and as he tiredly floated, the pair of swimmers slowly kicked their way back to shore.
“I thought you’d be a good swimmer,” Malaya said with a slight frown, gently rubbing Turkey’s back. He shot her a poisonous glare as he attempted to wring the water out of his robes.
“You could have died, you fool,” he growled. Now that his face was unmasked, the full force of his severe expression and darkened eyes affected her immensely. She started and immediately looked upset.
“I-I didn’t think you’d come in after me.”
“Are you stupid?” Turkey shouted angrily. “You mean no one jumps in after you’re underwater for ten minutes? Don’t your people care if you drown and die!”
She was trembling under his glare, tears gathering in the corner of her eyes. The other man who had helped her bring Turkey to shore sat down beside her, wrapped an arm around her and squeezed her gently, trying to comfort her, stroking the wet hair out of her face. He frowned lightly at Turkey.
“You come to the Straits of Malacca and do not know of the orang laut?”
Turkey’s eyes narrowed lightly, scowl still in place.
“Orang laut. Sea people. We are the ones who guide the ships into the harbour.”
“And?”
The man raised both his eyebrows.
“We know these waters, breathe them. We speak to the fish. She could have been underwater for an hour and I would not worry.”
Turkey’s scowl was unmoving, but as he shifted his gaze from Malaya to the man, he seemed to want to be convinced even if he sounded utterly disbelieving.
“You’re saying both of you can talk to fish.”
He nodded. “That’s right.”
“And you can hold your breath underwater for an hour.”
“She can only go that long, for now. Soon she will be able to go for even longer.” He turned to Malaya, smiled at her and squeezed her again. “Isn’t that right, Dewi?”
Malaya’s response was to burst into tears as she buried her face in the man’s side.
Turkey felt only a little bad. But that was only because he hated dealing with crybabies.
“All right. All right. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t know. I’m not angry with you anymore, just majorly pissed off. Stop crying, for god’s sake.”
The attempt to calm her down went on for a while until Malaya finally wiped her tears away and was led by the hand to the baths by one of the local women who had been summoned. Once they were out of earshot, Turkey began to strip himself of his robes.
“So, who the hell are you?” Turkey asked gruffly.
“Sumatra,” the man frowned. “I somehow expected better manners from you considering how much my sister talked about you, but you did try to save her life. I will overlook it.”
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