lowetyde

[lowetyde]

pirates. a word that once sent shivers down his spine now elicited no more than a low chuckle. the jolly roger's numbers dwindled, fewer remaining each year. evidently, peter was killing them off faster than they could recover ( wayward ships or marooned sailors were a rarity, making it impossible to build numbers aside from the occasional defective lost boy ). those that remained lacked the essential intimidating prowess of their predecessors. all bark, no bite. the look in their eyes lacked the bloodlust that all those old salt-dogs were infamous for. this lot seemed more inclined to enjoy a mild chat with their adversary than take action. not that marlowe minded at all. he liked to play with his food.

this meal in particular had proven themself to be particularly fun, albeit irritatingly smug at times. the human's words tickled at his ears with the same rhythmic purr of a cello's plucked strings. their accent sugared each word like honey— no, bourbon. marlowe cared less for what was actually being said, rather, basking in the intoxicating sound of that derisive tone. cheeky, they were. full of gall and whit. they were one of the talkers, their voice so delicious. so sweet it made him sick. the merman’s stomach curdled and teeth gnashed. all he had to do was reach forward and pluck that sharp tongue out from behind curled, mocking lips. what would they be then, without their weapon ?

claws splintered into the old wood and, though his arm quivered, he pulled his chest further out of the cold water. the chill of night air kissed his dripping skin. marlowe’s arms rested upon the upper rim, but even as he readjusted himself, further impeding upon the other's space, his icy stare was uninterrupted. all it would take was one swift, hard beat of his tail to fully throw his body into the raft.

" you are not above scandal though, are you ? why else venture these waters at this dark hour, fit only for devils and deviants. seeking to satisfy a carnal craving, i daresay. " he purred each syllable, but, despite the sultry tone that drenched his words, the creature's eyes were dead. he had never quite mastered that part. the look of desire, of yearning, that his sisters wore so well. they could charade as love-struck damsels before revealing their fangs, unmasking their fatality. marlowe could never hide his hunger. his greed.

" come for another taste ? be warned : you're free to indulge but i bite back. let those others think what they want . . . our secrets will always be safe with me. "

It had been a risky idea, one Charlie had tried to warn them of, due to the dangerous lurking beneath the waves, though it was impossible to forget the sea beasts that lingered beneath the crystalline surface. A place Cecco once thought to call home, a territory they would have bravely ventured in without so much as even a pinch of hesitation or fear. But that was before . . . well, all of this. Before there were scarier things to fear than sharks or leeches. When the inhabitants of the sea changed depending on where they were, when they could actually venture some place new.

There had been something that was simply gnawing at the back of their mind for days now, something they missed so dearly. How vastly different the ocean was when the sun was away. The different fish, the colors, the smells. Something they hadn't gotten to see in far too long. Something that needed to be changed. Was it dangerous? Absolutely. Neverlands waters were less safe than any brig could be, but if it silenced that nagging in their mind, then it was worth the risk. Plus, they could try to gather up a little bit of seaweed for the kitchen. And so, there they were, in a rickety rowboat beneath the silver moon, upon gently rocking waves. An unknowing player in a secret game.

They had been so close to the ship, for a moment, they even considered the thought that perhaps the mer-folk had simply taken their hunting to different grounds around the island. So much for wishful thinking. As the rowboat rocked violently against the water, Cecco's heart pounded in their chest, matching the erratic rhythm of the waves. They clung desperately to the sides of the vessel, knuckles white with tension as they struggled to maintain their balance. The voice that sliced through the darkness sent a shiver down Cecco's spine, a familiar yet unwelcome presence intruding upon their solitude, its playful tone belying the danger that lurked beneath the surface.

They had crossed paths with the merman before, their encounters always fraught with tension and danger. Each meeting was like a dance on the razor's edge, a delicate balance between desire and distrust, attraction and animosity. Cruel curiosity leading Cecco ever closer to the claws that currently clutched the edge of the rowboat. The taste of the mer's blood, sickeningly copper yet disgustingly intoxicating, like a poorly made mead being forced down their throat, lingered on the tip of their tongue.

Despite the familiarity of Marlowe's presence, Cecco's pulse quickened as they realized the gravity of the situation. Here they were, adrift on a moonlit sea, facing off against a creature whose motives were as inscrutable as the depths from which he emerged. A surge of adrenaline coursed through Cecco's veins, mingling with the salt-laden air as they braced themselves for whatever might come next. Their mind raced with a whirlwind of thoughts, memories of past encounters with the merman intertwining with the raw, primal instinct to survive. But as burnt umber hues took in the pale webbed hands that seemed to dig into the wood, dried lips curled up in a smirk that, whether true and genuine, or a simple façade to hide any nerves that might be arising, appeared mischievously amused.

"La mia perla splendente, don't you know it's scandalous to ask such things at this time of night? What would others think?"

Cecco's voice rang out across the water, dripping with sarcasm and a hint of playful mischief. They tilted their head, a smirk playing at the corners of their lips as they met Marlowe's gaze head-on. It was a game they knew well, this dance of words and wits, a battle of wills that played out on the stage of the moonlit sea. But beneath the façade of bravado lay a gnawing uncertainty, a nagging doubt that whispered of the dangers that lurked just beneath the surface. They knew all too well the perils of underestimating a merfolk, knew the sharpness of his wit matched only by the ferocity of his claws.

[lowetyde]

@exiled-eyes :: CLOSED STARTER !

the full moon's glow melted across the ocean's rippling surface, foam intertwining with its soft reflection. serene calm existed in that space between sky and sea. however, further down, creatures of fin and fang stirred. under the cover of dark, a serpent slithered. scales of sea-glass. milky skin. eyes like the ocean, cold and unforgiving. marlowe moved with a strength he'd not displayed in months. it had been only a few weeks since the return of divine ianthe, yet, in that short time, his power had been renewed. the merman was free to hunt, to lead, unflinchingly by her side.

his tail whipped impatiently as he circled the black waters in wait, when finally, patience taut, the target of his affairs tumbled onto his side of the chessboard. a rowboat's bow pierced the salty surface, followed by the hull and two feverish oars paddling with haste toward the grandiose pirate ship anchored less than half a mile from shore. marlowe shot forward with the swiftness of a harpoon. the muscles in his tail were tense with excitement.

however, marlowe had underestimated the strength of this single oarsman. the boat was nearly halfway between land and ship in the couple minutes it took him to reach its old, wooden underside. the creature wasted no more time. he spiraled downward into the deep; then, when not even arm's length from the sandy floor, he snapped his tail in one swift motion and flew back in direction of the stars. arms pinned to his side, marlowe rammed directly against the keel, sending the rowboat swaying dangerously. he threw himself against it again, but, lacking the momentum of his first assault, it still refused to capsize.

moving out from under the rocking rowboat, he slowly began to circle it with the virulence of a shark. rolling onto his back, a head of blonde curls emerged from the shaken waves, followed by a webbed hand curled against the capping's edge. " tsk tsk, someone's in such a hurry. won't you stay a while, my dear ? " he tugged with might and the boat rocked and rocked and rocked.

[lowetyde]

OPEN STARTER !

a day like many before it, marlowe found himself completely and utterly bored. even now, glassy eyes gazing thoughtlessly at the figure before him, he had to bite down upon his tongue to stop a disinterested yawn from escaping. with a webbed-finger, the merman trailed invisible lines across the lagoon’s otherwise serene surface, too easily allowing his attention to shift from the other’s words that bounced off his eardrums and back into the space between them.

unlike the summer air surrounding them, the water was ice cold and deeply comforting. desperately, he wished to sink back down to the floor of crushed bone and smooth stones and escape whatever task was being unwillingly laid atop his shoulders.     “ but what exactly can i expect in return ? “     , he hummed, shifting empty orbs away from them and onto the glow of his own marvelous tail — the color and glow having finally begun to return to it, along with his strength.

“ what is in it for me ? my labor is a rarity, and must be won by more than simple words. “

[lowetyde]

theseasbelongtome​:

That sweet smile, as close to kind as her horrible highness could get to, twisted into something much more familiar to her features. A smile still to those who can’t see the next layer down, however… It hides something bitter, something much more dangerous than even a frown. Dear Marlowe would know it well - she’s annoyed.

Ianthe’s hand which had slipped from his hair darted to find it again, this time gripping those lovely curls with force. She “ guides ” his head back down to settle on the stone. He looked much prettier when he was asleep, all peaceful, mouth shut. “ Now, what sort of welcome is that? ” Razor sharp teeth catch glimpses of light as she speaks, lightly stained a beautiful crimson. “ Of course I have an idea, ” she practically hisses, offended by the idea, “ do you take me for a fool, Marlowe? ” The question is an absolute death trap by design. There’s no real right answer for Marlowe to give.

But he doesn’t have to, for not a moment later all that fury in her subsides and once again she’s as calm and serene as the water that gently ripples around them.

“ I’ll forgive your insolence this once, since you must be so overcome with emotion regarding my return, ” a low tone, as beautiful as it is rattling.

Once Marlowe has been firmly put in his place, back down below her gaze, her grip on his hair loosens and returns to that gentle play for a fleeting moment. She’s discontent with limiting herself to just one little part of him after that display from him. Dexterous digits adorned with nail that come to harsh points slide across Marlowe’s delicate skin. A wonderful buzz to be felt with the knowledge that pressing in ever so slightly would surely tear him like paper. She watches as little parts of him tense under the touch, Marlowe has always been a little ticklish. She adores that about him. Down his cheek they venture, across the side of his thin neck, over that jutting collarbone and tracing over his disgusting bony chest…

“ But you should try again, dear… ” She looks to meet those foggy eyes of his once more, staring into their depths. She can’t recall that sincere smile nor tone, just an echo of them, as she now sits upright and over him. “ Miss me? ” This time more a command than those melodic words that pulled him from sleep so gently.

he had misstepped. that fact was clear as day from the moment such a foolish accusation had jumped from off his bitter tongue. how shameful. the divine being’s anger, her displeasure, was a righteous. tensed corners of his jaw flinched as her hand extended towards him and spindly digits intertwined with roots of gold. still, in spite of his own feelings, how easily the beast allowed beauty’s spell to enchant him. falling into submission, marlowe did not fight nor argue nor scowl as ianthe guided him back into a prone position and, when his head rested upon the ocean-rock once more, arctic eyes fluttered closed, imitating the corpse-like slumber she’d stirred him from.

normally, the creature did not take kindly to the chastisement of other’s. alana was a fool, anouk was a witch, and nin was no one. their remarks pinched him like thorns in the side that further brewed the volatility bubbling within deep chasms of his black heart. but ianthe. ianthe’s voice, despite its dangerously sharp edge and biting tone, was sweeter than any song that met his ears. even her cruelty melted over the merman like honey. to be seen by her ( even at his most miserable ) was a blessing. now especially, the admonishments she rained down upon him sent shivers of perverse bliss throughout his feeble form. this was the closest thing to comfort he had felt in weeks.

marlowe dared a meek nod, basking in her forgiveness just as he had her chiding.     “ yes, i’m a fool. my self was lost in the excitement. “    , was murmured in agreement whilst eyes, sparkling in gracious admiration, cracked open to gaze upon her divine aura. those hungry orbs soaked up the vivid yet unreadable mix of her own, traced the perfect edges of her ethereal mask, brushed across her incomparable silhouette and lingered on the glittering scales of a slender tail. utterly perfect. ianthe encapsulated everything he could never achieve, something he became increasingly conscious of as sharpened nails danced across his sickly physique, causing him to tense and twitch under the tickle of her tender touch.

the words sounded rehearsed, like this was not the first performance he’d put on. as if it took patient practice to appease a being like herself. still, in spite of this, no words had ever been more true.     “ i missed you dearly for i am lost without you. i am a puppet with no one to pull at the strings. please do not leave me again, not so soon nor for so long. every day without your beauty to blind me, i die inside and out. i become nothing. i cannot bear it again. “     

desperately, he wished to wrap his grotesque form around his dark angel. he wished to hold her tight to him. to rest his head upon the softness of her lap. to never leave this moment. he carved the feeling of her touch, her words, her smell into a special corner of his mind. the poor, pathetic thing could not help it. marlowe adored the maiden, and he hated himself for it. he was sure that she saw him as nothing more than a pawn in neverland’s great game. but no amount of taunting or lashing could break him free from the restraints of obsession. painted in blood and bruises, he’d always came slithering back. just as the moon chased after the sun, he would forever follow her.

“ where did you go ? “     , he wondered earnestly, the tone far softer than his previous barrage of inquiries.     “ what stole you away from me us for so long ? “

[lowetyde]

@exiled-eyes​ :: continued from HERE.

smooth porcelain was disrupted by the mountain range of shivers crawling its way out of his skin and taking shape as a thousand goosebumps, shamefully decorating his extended limb. completely bewitched, a vacant stare dug into the pirate while they nursed on the puddle of ruby-red so graciously offered to them. he had never witnessed such flagrant depravity from their kind. mortals dabbled in bloodshed and savagery, however, to sip upon a spoonful of raw, fluid humanity was taboo in even the most untamed groups and, though marlowe was not entirely human, he held resemblance enough that their act should not have been met with such glaring pleasure. 

the feeling was foreign yet oddly enticing. his fingers burned with excitement where their tongue roamed, a sensation that sunk deep past his skin, titillated his nerve endings, rattled the bone and made a home between his joints. marlowe was uncharacteristically statuesque, the silence as thick as the blood pooling atop his tail — aside from the faint lapping of saliva and gore. but what would happen if he slid his fingers further past their welcome lips ? if he toyed at their curious tongue with a gentle claw or pressed wet, padded fingers hard against the roof of their mouth ? he knew for certain it would not be enough. he would dive past their dainty uvula and down down down, deep into their gullet. those webbed spindles would fist their throat ‘til the cavern of their chest was reached, where he would then finger through the various organs strewn about in search of the most glorious prize : a beating black heart. what a frenzy that would send him into ! the pum-pump-pumping of its hypnotic rhythm against the soft palm of his enclosed mitt . . . a silky whine escaped him at the mere thought.

the hum reverberating from off the fellow’s throat and rattling his imprisoned digits broke marlowe free from his carnal fantasy. the beast of a human seemed so hungry, roaming those finned-fingers long after the stripes of wine had been licked clean. marlowe wanted to offer them more, to cup his hands together like a goblet overflowing with pooled blood for the pirate to indulge upon further. but that did not at all seem fair !! why should such a mundane creature, something so ordinary and flawed as ‘man’, be permitted to dine upon his essence like some sovereign seated against a divine banquet. it was he who should have been granted a feast. how backwards the rules of their game had become. the placidity of his face was disrupted by a hundred wrinkles of disgust as he pulled his drool-dripping hand free from the balmy bed of their tongue, a single thread of saliva connecting them ( sharp claw to soft lip ) before being unceremoniously snapped. jealousy bubbled in the pits of his empty stomach.     “ intoxicating, isn’t it. “     the murmur was drenched in bitter contempt.     “ tread carefully lest your snake of a silver-tongue become obsessed. once you have tasted something this holy, nothing else shall ever compare. an incurable addiction we folk are. ‘tis why so many of your brethren come crawling after us into the waves of wet-hell, and you seem all but eager to join them. “

he could feel the uneven tempo of their heartbeat, the thin sheet of skin doing little to conceal its traitorous pulse. such a sweet, simple victory could not be celebrated for long, unfortunately.     “ i wish for— “     his chiding was cut short as the sea-beast sucked in a sharp draw of salty air. merfolk were strong creatures forged to be better in every imaginable detail, but whittle all those perfections away and all that would remain was marlowe. pitiful, weak, delicate marlowe. his tail wreathed as cloth came down on it, a copper tang mixing with musk and old cotton. already sorely sensitive, the pirate’s firm hold and tight clinch of fabric was enough to send hot flames shooting through his bulk. an irate cry boomed from out a shaking chest, rippling the lagoon surface with its echo. it was not until they so bravely pressed their fingers against the wound with tender pressure did marlowe’s eyes glow with true enmity. his own hand shot out, wrapping around the focused tension of their muscles, and clawed in. his nails dug deep, latching himself to them as he panted with heavy hostility.     “ i wish it to be quick. for your sake, at least. my patience will soon run out . . . and i am not nearly as ‘gentle’. “

pretend that’s not a gun in the gif

[lowetyde]

@exiled-eyes​ :: continued from HERE.

the nerves beneath marlowe’s scale armor tingled where the pirate’s hovering hand cast its shadow. as they inspected the damage, the merman inspected them. his eyes may not have been the strongest, perpetually plagued by a ring of haze, but saw all that was needed to. the svelte of imperfect skin, scarred and puckered from an untold history traversing the open ocean. thick tendrils of raven waves that smelled of salt, brushing along sharp cheekbones and concealing the well-carved structure of their downturned face. ten long fingers attached to two strong hands, teasing the air above his gash.

how desperately he wished to contort his torso inward and wrap moist lips around one of those unguarded appendages, baring his teeth down ‘til they were met by bone. next, he’d strike upwards : their lovely neck. there, blood coursed like a powerful river, dipping over the cliff of thin skin and water-falling down his tongue and into his throat. the pit of their abdomen, where the most delectable treats lay beneath layers of muscle and fat, would be the climax of his gruesome exhibition. he wondered how they would taste : bitter, sweet, savory ? would their humanity feel soft and succumbing, or would it maintain a toughness that forced the creature to laboriously chew chew chew. and when his feast was finished, all that remained being a scatter of clean bones, would any room be left in his stomach to suck out the candied sweetness of their marrow ?

humor played at his otherwise airy expression, revealed by the minute twitch in his right cheek.     “ what a tasteful palate you pirates have apparently refined. “     he considered them for a handful of seconds, noting the way their eyes never met and the ripple of expressions they wore. with devil horns piercing through his skin, marlowe swatted their calloused hand away with his damp one. in one swift swipe, a thick dollop of blood coated his webbed fingers, the substance warm and familiar to the touch. without pause, he raised his crimson-painted claws to the pirate’s blabbering lips, their cleverness beginning to chafe at his nerves.     “ go on then, indulge in your love. but i must warn you : i am only as giving as i am selfish. “

his mockery came to a halt at his savior’s quick show. no longer did covers of cotton or wool conceal the illustrious beauty that was their mortality. sinewy. carnal. oh-so human. marlowe ripped his hungry eyes away, flinching with unease as they forewarned what was to come. pain was not pleasant when he was the one to act as victim.     “ by all means, do not fret on my behalf. i am subject to your whim, so says our empty deal. “     he allowed his head to lean back, resting it comfortably against their muscled shoulder. the beating of their pulse, mere inches away, was a comforting thrum that eased his nervous state. the position was carefully chosen as it was precarious : should the pirate choose to act unkindly, their neck was displayed nicely before marlowe’s fangs, ready to strike in retaliation. leaning in just a bit, his hushed voice brushed at the lobe of their ear.,     “ be quick about it, though, and don’t stop. even if i scream. “

[lowetyde]

exiled-eyes​:

The way in which the merfolk’s face became flush with a furious red only served to fuel the fire within Cecco’s battle-worn chest. Their hands holding up at their sides as if to show they meant no harm or offense, though the way their lips were haunted by a smirk proved their amusement. As seemed to be the case with the other merfolk they had encountered, their moods were as unpredictable as the wind. One moment they could be smiling sweetly at you, concealing the nature of their unnaturally jagged teeth, and as you blink, they are reaching for your ankles to pull you below the murky depths, wishing to cloud the water with a red hue so thick it almost appears to be black.

So fragile a people, to resort to swiping their claws and baring their claws as soon as another being shows a modicum of decency. Pride is the greatest destroyer of men, and so it seemed, it would also be the downfall of those who lay beneath the sea. Those who would rather wallow and accept death, than accept help that was laying before them. “Time heals all, surely, but infection can see that your time is cut short.”

A brow quirked up in amusement as Cecco shifted their weight upon the rocky shore, allowing their arm to rest atop the hilt of their sword. Rosewood hues gleamed with a mischief that threatened to consume their gaze. Perhaps the mer before them could be convinced to allow them a glance, just a ghostly peek at the injury that caused them to bleed.

“Would be a shame, to lose such a pretty face. For those warm waves to turn to ice around you. The sea would surely appear more dull, now that I have found the source of its enchanting glow.” Maintaining the distance between them, just ever out of arms reach of the nearly certain death that awaited them should they make even one mistake, Cecco squatted down to be more at eye level with the man.

“I shall make you a deal, if you are willing.” Their tongue flicked out, running across their lower lip before they spoke again. “Allow me to tend to your wound, and if the bleeding does not stop within the hour, then I will step within the waters willingly and we shall play a game.”  “But, should I be able to stop the bleeding, then you will have to allow me to come and change it out once again. Does this sound agreeable?”

“ a killer wishes to play their hand at healer ? sounds like the start to a tragic sonnet. “     marlowe’s sneer revealed a set of beautiful fangs, lined in perfect rows and sharp as a sharks. the girls made it look so easy to lure empty-headed humans to a watery grave. they twirled their hair, sang their songs, and the fellows would dive in so willingly, desperate for the kiss of death. he, though, could not feed without first performing acrobatic flips through one obstacle after the next. the sad beast was forced to hunt tirelessly for the smallest delights whilst their prizes seemed to fall right into their perfect, scaly laps.     “ besides, has no one ever warned you of the dangers in making deals with devils . . . “

still, undeniably desperate ( and not at all minding the attention ), the merman allowed himself to be fully submerged by crystalline water before slithering nearer. the sparkling surface of mermaid lagoon distorted his silhouette, creating a mix of gold and blue tied together by alabaster white. such an image did not remain clear, though, as the glassy tides were infected by spirals of dark red that escaped his messy salves sloppily slapped atop fresh wounds. when he resurfaced the liquids had mixed so jewel-drops of diamond and ruby streamed down his face and sparkled in his curls like a circlet-crown.

marlowe shot the other an unreadable look, something that lived between doubt and desire, as he slid up onto the rocks where they crouched. the stone blistered the delicate scales of his already injured ( and considerably delicate ) tail, warmed from the blazing sun. at a painfully slow pace, his sore muscles screaming from such effort, the creature leaned back so his marred silhouette was fully displayed to the pirate. a once pristine form had been soiled by scattered bruises and minor abrasions. marlowe ran a clawed hand along the battered skin, wincing in pain at his own slight touch.     “ pleased ? a damsel in distress readily at your disposable. though, i must ask, do all knights in shining armor smell of old parchment and cheap rum ? not that i am one to complain. i find the fragrance . . . delicious. “

his unblinking gaze, blue as the arctic sea and just as cold, bore into the stranger as if his eyes alone could peal back their layers and reveal the feast concealed underneath. his jaw ground together, muscles tensed to hold his ravenous nature back from pouncing upon the pirate at that very moment, their unsheathed sword reflecting a flash of warning. 

marlowe leaned in, offering permission to their promised touch, his wet mess of gold tresses brushing their shoulder.     “ do be gentle. “     , he purred, the words but a soft whisper.     “ i’m sensitive, my sweet. “

[lowetyde]

‘do you actually believe the idiocy that comes out of your mouth?’ 💜

*PROMPT : she who became the sun.

anouk's voice possessed the gentleness of two stones being scraped together, tearing at his eardrums with its vexing melody. reigning from the eastern underbelly of the atlantic, the glorious creature enchanted and allured in a way that even captivated marlowe. the foreign air that lingered around her was so fresh, far more compelling than the old tricks of never's native folk.

still, she was a predator, as all merfolk are. survival favored the fittest, and marlowe clung desperately to the bottom of the totem pole upon which they all ranked. she poked and prodded at his shortcomings til the wounds were rubbed raw, shaving his dignity down to the bone. however, even her cruelest commentary dripped like honey.

" does it truly matter ? " he asked in turn. the mottled blue-green of his tail shimmered against the few rays of light peeking through the surface as he flicked it back and forth, eliciting a parade of bubbles to float upwards. " i'm the court jester; it matters not what i say as long as it gets a good laugh. "

" still, not all jesters are fools. "

[lowetyde]

Alana looked up and met his gaze, holding it with determination. "You think you understand me," she said slowly, "but it goes both ways. Like knows like; like is connected to like. So don't forget: I understand you, too."

*PROMPT : she who became the sun.

the color blue had never looked so dark as it did now; the vibrancy of icy irises faded into thick clouds of gray, a storm of furious passion. the sound of his pounding heart drummed in his ears, drowning out the foolish naivete of such odic words. it took a single twitch of his fin to close the gap between them, close enough for the heat of his murky chuckle to brush along her cheek.

the tension that pulled against every muscle in his tight form could be seen ever-clearly by the grinding intensity of a clenched jaw and the bone-white of fisted knuckles. " is that so ? " , he purred, voracious pupils narrowed to slits as they peered down on the excellence that was she. what a mockery she made, to proclaim something so farcical as that of the two being level with one another ! were her eyes as weak as his own to not see how much higher the ground she rested upon was ? were her slender arms too weak to fight off the truth of nature, the obvious fact that there was no likeness between the two other than the mythicism they existed from ?

" how unfortunate the nature of 'understanding' is, wouldn't you agree ? but, please, do not cast aside dignity by comparing a splendor such as yourself to my pathos. " , marlowe spat through gritted fangs. even now, imbued with adrenaline and bitter rage, he could not hold a flame to her. if he dared strike, she surely would come down on him with double the force. all the sad creature could do was overpower alana with the dark shadow he cast, to strike her with the blade of weaponized words.

marlowe's arm flexed as he extended a hand toward her, brushing his index along her cheek with a taught tenderness. " you are a beauty, indisputably. " the words were sour in his mouth, dripping with envy. his finger paused at her chin, pinching the bone between it and his thumb. " i would wager that all of you is as divine. if i ripped into you, here at this very moment, i imagine your organs would sparkle like treasured jewels, tendons to be threaded in chains of gold, blood as pure as ambrosia. "

his hold released, tossing her away in disgust. " nooo, but that cannot be right. as you said, like knows like. so, like me, you surely must bleed a sickly black ink. your bones must be chipped porcelain rather than ivory. when we die, no fish or shrimp or parasite will feast on the sad remains of our feeble silhouettes. " a peal of dry laughter erupted, shaking the entirety of his body. " how unburdening it is to finally be understood. how wonderful it is to finally uncover a worthlessness rivaling my own. "

[lowetyde]

Alana turns to the merman, ocean-blue eyes sparkling with excitement. "Do you think we could take a couple of these books back with us?" she asks. The ship must have sunken pretty recently; the spines hadn't disintegrated yet. The books are still recognizable and distinct enough to tell them apart, at least.

*PROMPT : i actually can't remember . . .

the pungent musk of rotting decay assailed him, marlowe's nose wrinkling in distaste as he trailed after alana. he let her take the lead, swimming behind at a lackadaisical speed that transparently revealed the lack of delight he possessed in her whimsical antics. the wreckage displayed before them was not entirely without interest, though. the mermaid was right in believing the forgotten remnants of this skeleton ship were not as archaic as the forceful tides of their sea had eroded it to appear.

airily, he spun through the musty waters, poking and prodding at soft wood with feigned charm, desperately searching for anything to captivate his attention whilst alana paddled around in search of hidden treasures. marlowe's innate paranoia had been piqued by the ginger-haired folk, his eyebrows knitting together and skin prickling whenever she began to weave her silver-tongued words on this thing and that thing ( a hullabaloo of excuses, he'd always thought to himself ). the fellow had taken it upon himself to keep a watchful eye on her, as ianthe was much too busy to be bothered by his unfounded cynicism.

blonde curls danced with the bubbles around them as he floated down to the ship's floor, picking through bones and torn cloth for something shiny to grow his own collection of knick-knacks. marlowe's head tilted upwards at her cheery tone, arctic eyes shooting between her proud expression and the pile of water-logged manuscripts clutched tight. " hoping to teach the fish how to read ? " , he scoffed, turning his head away dismissively. still, he would not deny her such a simple pleasure.

marlowe pushed against the old floor planks, propelling himself upwards. the creature conceded with a passive sigh and shrug of his shoulders. " bring whatever you can carry, but expect no help from me. if you so desperately desire those worthless books, you can lug them back on your own. "

with a flick of his tail, the merman glided outside the sad remains of what appeared to have once been a mighty vessel. curiosity took hold, forcing him to glance back a last time before beckoning to alana. t e ri h eo s h py could barely be made out along the rear. his lips twisted downward. " how did you say you'd come to find this place, beauty ? luck, was it ? "

[lowetyde]

@theseasbelongtome​ :: continued from HERE.

marlowe had learned to find comfort in solitude. in fact, he basked in the feeling of emptiness that eternally encapsulated his pitiful frame. it was much preferred this way. merfolk were not creatures that craved companionship; they did not require one another’s soft touch or sweet words to thrive in the ocean’s algid belly. carnage was their vice. supple skin being torn from bone, shredded by the knife-points of merciless fangs. the sweet nectar that was hot blood settling atop the tongue before sliding down down down a welcoming throat. screams, cries, agony filling one’s ears whilst thick flesh filled the pit of their ever-hungry stomach. this was a merfolk’s only wanting. this was marlowe’s desperate need.

unceremoniously pushed to the outskirts of the lagoon, the small corner he called his had grown much too familiar in the last weeks. his true home, however, has been built in ianthe’s shadow, allowing it cover him like a warm blanket in the otherwise frigid waters. but the sovereign did not need him in the ways he did her, and she would periodically disappear on whatever whims pleased her. ianthe was perfect, forged with the strength of crushing waves and beauty of the ocean’s hypnotic tides. yet for whatever reason, she seemed to entertain marlowe’s constant accompaniment, allowing him to use her has a shield against all that posed a threat against the poor fellow. without her—having only on his own words and whit to get by—the merman often resorted to hiding from the cruelty that lived deep within never’s lagoon, curling into as tight a ball as he could, in the darkest corner of his stony shelf, wasting away until she returned to save him from his wallowing.

this time, though, she’d been gone too long. he’d have bothered to worry about her if not too preoccupied with his own state of being. the beautiful glow of his alabaster skin had faded to lackluster grey. once sparkling scales ( a mixture of blues and greens, similar to scattered seaglass ) dulled with each day, and his fins had begun to wrinkle like wilting petals. sharp ribs and hollowed cheekbones etched shadows into his skin, further accentuating the creature’s already feeble state. marlowe was truly weak and worthless, as nature had intended him to be. not even the shrimp feared his shadow when it passed.

marlowe knew his death was an imminent point in the future of neverland’s story, but so soon ? it felt disappointing. there was much he’d wished to do, so many he’d hoped to conquer. a silver-tongued pirate with misplaced confidence in their eyes. a young girl with hair like raging flames, playing homemaker with those once her enemy. a merfolk gilded in glory, her laughter like wind-chimes that floated along the waves and shredded his ears. he’d wanted their bones to rest beautifully below his, encasing his body in an ivory casket, but, alas, he stood no chance in challenging fate. if death was his destiny, the fellow would welcome it.

then, through the thick fog of despair, a single ray of light finally peeked through. a tremor ran through his spine at the familiar touch entangling itself in his mess of blonde curls. marlowe jolted upright, turning to see her for himself . . . to ensure it was not just some trick played by a dying mind. relief washed over him the moment his eyes of azure met hers of deep violet.     “ ianthe. “

the sweet solace that came with her presence was quickly pushed aside, though, as was her hand from his hair. his brows wrinkled and tone deepened, looking upon her incredulously.     “ where have you been ? have you any idea what’s gone on whilst you’ve been gallivanting across the seven seas ?! “

[lowetyde]

she who became the sun ( the radiant emperor #1 )  -   shelly parker-chan change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying  tw ;  death , war ,  violence , sexism

‘they say there’s luck in names, and you’ve certainly had luck enough.’

'in my experience, lucky people tend to be the laziest.’

‘where’s the fun in suffering by yourself?’

‘you think you’re that good-looking everyone wants to see you?’

‘desire is the cause of all suffering.’

‘I don’t appreciate being made a puppet for another man’s dirty work.’

‘when I ask myself if future pain is worth it for this life I have now, I always find that it is.’

‘I always knew you had a strong will. but what’s unusual about you is that most strong willed people never understand that will alone isn’t enough to guarantee their survival.’

‘more so than will, survival depends upon an understanding of people and power.’

‘it isn’t strength, but knowledge, that will be our best tool for surviving these difficult times ahead.’

'undoubtedly, chaos brings danger. but there will be opportunities, too.’

‘it’s due to chaos that we’re living through a moment in which even ordinary men can aspire to greatness.’

‘are you going to stab me?’

‘you can’t pray away your fate.’

‘I was merciful. I let you live.’

‘you cause me trouble as well as shame.’

‘you disappoint me.’

‘any power with such comprehensive reach should be understood.’

‘any power with such comprehensive reach should be understood. perhaps especially if they’re on our side.’

‘in my father’s eyes, I’ll always be the failure.’

‘(name) is an easy person to love. the world loves him, and he loves the world, because everything in it has always gone right for him.’

‘you and (name) are two unlike things. don’t fool yourself that he can ever understand you.’

‘I know what it’s like to be humiliated.’

‘any kind of fool can stumble into success once or twice.’

‘you two are such a bad match. can’t you have a single conversation without fighting?’

‘can’t you have a single conversation without fighting?’

‘clever people know when to give in.’

‘if you join his side, you’ll regret it.’

‘how little lives are worth in this war. theirs and ours, both.’

‘you have a lot of feelings in you.’

‘to win a hundred victories, a hundred battles is not the pinnacle of skill. to subdue the enemy without fighting is the pinnacle of skill.’

‘what someone is means nothing about what kind of person they are. truth is in actions.’

‘I didn’t mean to kill. at first.’

‘I wanted to live, so I took a life.’

‘all that means is we have to make this life count.’

‘who did you become, when we were apart?’

‘I might not know you, but I know what you want.’

‘you’ve opened my eyes. there are so many more options than I thought.’

‘you saw something in me that I didn’t know myself.’

‘what kind of man bothers to see potential in a woman, and encourages her despite her own doubts?’

‘rest assured that the only reason I helped you is because it gets me closer to what I want.’

‘you know what’s worse than suffering? not suffering, because you’re not even alive to feel it.’

‘learn to want something for yourself. not what someone says you should want. not what you think you should want.’

‘don’t go through life thinking only of duty. when all we have are these brief spans between our nonexistences, why not make the most of the life you’re living now?’

‘why not make the most of the life you’re living now? the price is worth it.’

‘maybe your suffering is worth whatever it is you want to achieve. but mine wouldn’t be.’

‘that’s all past history. I never think of it.’

‘do you believe that? that one day we’ll be out of a job, because of peace?’

‘have the courage to take power for yourself! do you think it will come to you if you wait?’

‘do you actually believe the idiocy that comes out of your mouth?’

‘you never accepted me for who I am; you never even saw everything I did for you, all because I’m not like (name)!’

‘you always push everyone away. what do you find in it, the loneliness? I couldn’t bear it.’

‘you trust too much. I admire you for it. that you prefer to drawn people closer, rather than push them away. but it’ll get you hurt.’

‘the worst injury you can do to a man is shame him. he can never forget it.’

‘it must have been painful, learning that true wisdom lies in obedience.’

‘are you always thinking do little of me that my defeats seem inevitable?’

‘i’d have thought you’d be the last to cry about (name’s) fate. why can’t we just stand back and let it happen?’

‘so you’re going to save (name) from himself?’

‘and here I thought I was the only one who got manipulated by pretty girls.’

‘why are you lowering yourself by dirtying your hands like this? let someone else take care of this trash.’

‘you were only ever a pretender. you only sat on a pretend throne.’

‘why do we have to play these awful games? what for?’

‘what does anyone want but to be on top, untouchable?’

‘who do you think I am, to think I can make anything happen in my own life? i’m a woman.’

‘I know you don’t want that life. a different one isn’t impossible.’

‘you have something I don’t; you feel for others, even the ones you don’t like.’

‘you want me to believe you’re different. that you can give me something different. but how can I trust that? I can’t.’

‘are you fool enough to believe the future will match your dream of it, with no consideration of the reality of the situation?’

‘I don’t admit anything! I don’t need to! you’ve already made up your mind!’

‘you can’t reason with fools who refuse to see reason.’

‘he was right about you. you’re worthless. worse than that; a curse.’

‘there are people who say that grief will hurt as much as it’s worth.’

‘there are people who say that grief will hurt as much as it’s worth. and there is nothing worth more than a father.’

‘(name) would never put himself on the line for me, or anyone else. but you, you’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?’

‘i’ve wanted and struggled and suffered for that fate my whole life. I’m not going to stop now.’

‘you are trouble. I’ve never met anyone more trouble than you,’

‘are you so certain of the possibility of change? it seems to me the outcome is inevitable.’

‘what I want has nothing to do with who wins.’

‘every time the world turns its face from you, know it was because of me.’

‘stop blaming yourself and let yourself want it.’

‘stop blaming yourself and let yourself want it. i’ll give it to you.’

‘I have everything I need. whereas you, — you still need me.’

‘nobody expected anything of me. nobody ever cherished me.’

‘I cherish you.’

‘you think you understand me. but don’t forget it goes both ways. like knows like; like is connected to like. I understand you, too.’

‘pure emotions are the luxury of children and animals.’

‘more fool I am, to hope against hope for a change in his nature, that he might actually try to be useful.’

‘I presume you’re not here to kill me.’

‘you think you have power over me because you know a secret. but you don’t.’

‘how can something like that stop me, destroy me, when nothing else has?’

‘look at me and see the person who will win. the person who will rule.’

‘I presume you realize how much I dislike you. wasn’t the last where I said I wanted to kill you clear enough?’

‘you betray you ignorance in less than a sentence.’

‘how willing you were to think the worst of me. why aren’t you happier? i’m just being who you’ve always though I was. i’m giving you the ending you believed in.’

‘the times and means of our deaths have always been fixed, and this is yours.’

‘even the most shining future, if desired, will have suffering at its heart.’

‘i’ll follow you, as far as you want to go.’

‘I wasn’t born with the promise of greatness either. but I have it now. because I wanted it. because I’m strong, because I’ve struggled and suffered to become the person I need to me, and because I do want needs to be done.’

‘you said you’d be different. you lied to me.’

‘when you did this, did you even stop to think about how it might make me feel to bear witness for what you think is justified?’

‘I want what I want, and sometimes I’m going to have to do certain things to get it.’

‘you have two choices. you can rise with me, which I’d prefer. or if you don’t want what I want— you can leave.’

[lowetyde]

@fortunefavorcd​ :: continued from HERE.

pirates were a perplexing breed. some were so easy to twist around his fingers, melting their hearts like goo in his palm with the simplest of sweet words or empty promises. others, like this one, had far too much cleverness about them. a careful caution that’d surely been cultivated over years of disappointment or betrayal. 

“ oh, don’t go being a spoil-sport. “     , marlowe pouted. still, his tail snapped, pushing him a few feet from the shore. maybe some distance would ease her apprehension over his company.     “ i am a bit biased, but i believe merfolk make for the best company. just ask your nine-fingered friend . . . they linger these waters often enough to call the lagoon a second home. “     a bit of an exaggeration, but surely even she knew how often cecco found themselves where ( or with those ) they should not be.

“ what do your myths say of mermen ? hopefully they sing of our goodwill, for i am not like my conniving, cruel sisters. in fact, i pride myself as a collector of knowledge rather than souls. come closer, and i’ll share some. lost boys, pan, pirates. friend or foe. won’t you come swim with me ? dive into my chest of secrets. “

[lowetyde]

@littlenin​ :: continued from HERE.

a scowl was tossed back at the young mermaid, her words holding more truth than he refused to accept. even a nymph as fresh and new as herself could easily pose a threat to marlowe, who battled each day to maintain even the smallest fragment of power that was wielded so naturally by the rest of his kind.

marlowe skulked back, flicking his tail in annoyance. nin, in spite of her relatively short time in neverland, was still considered an outsider in his mind—a foreign friend who’d ventured there by some miracle ( or mistake ). he forced his grimace upwards into a mock grin, slithering closer.     “ now, now ! watch what you say. it’s far easier to make enemies than it is friends. “     his fingers lightly tugged at her ebony tresses, swimming circles around her like a snake coiling its prey. but only for a moment. just as quickly, he sidled away into the shadows once more.     “ and i have the greatest friend of all. how unimpressed ianthe would be by a bitter-mouthed, bickering child like yourself. “

[lowetyde]

@ifyouwaltzwiththewildthings​ :: continued from HERE.

lips curled upward, revealing dangerously perfect fangs that sparkled as if carved from akoya pearls. smallfolk were, in his mind, simple and inconsequential creatures. while each possessed their own artillery of trickery—otherworldly abilities inherited only through fae-blood—even they could fall victim to a siren’s song. beauty was a formidable yet easily underestimated power. aside from his own cleverness, it was the only thing marlowe could dare claim to rival his fellow merfolk.

“ my skin has grown dull and my bones brittle as i waste away from the inside out. “     he moaned, trailing a hand along the lackluster shine of his sea-green tail ( which had mournfully begun to grey from malnutrition ). if fletcher were not such a loyal servant to his beck and call, he’d have simply reached out and crushed their microscopic bones in a greedy fist before inhaling them whole.     “ you’re such a sweet thing, little bug. won’t you bring me a treat ? something fresh and bloody to warm this growling beast in my stomach. in return i’ll grant you a singular request : a treasure from some sunken ship, or shells and bones off the seafloor ? anything you’d like in return for a hearty, meaty meal. the bigger—the fresher—my dinner, the mightier your reward. “

[lowetyde]

voicilasirene​:

Marlowe’s verbal barbs missed their mark, leaving her unaffected and clearly unimpressed. Or perhaps they had landed a blow, as the bite in his tone lured in her in by making Anouk feel more invested in continuing her critical observations of the wounded mer instead of leaving him to bleed in desolation. 

“Well, feigning innocence is my calling card,” She countered and smiled prettily, accompanied by the shrug of one shoulder and a flick of her tail cutting through the water.

“Oh, how cute! We both know you should be grateful that I deigned to acknowledge you at all. But to pretend it’s irritating — malin!” Anouk drifted a bit closer, casting a considering look Marlowe’s way before asking, “Or have you actually convinced yourself that you really do prefer the solitude — barring Ianthe, of course; as if it’s a personal choice and not merely your lot in life?” She gave a shake of her head and let out a soft laugh, “No, of course not. Your defense mechanisms would never be capable of such a thing. My mistake.”

@lowetyde​​ | cont’d from here.

blame it on jealousy or weakness, but even marlowe could not deny the etherealism that anouk’s artfully carved features held. all merfolk were born with some gift graced by neptune, or whatever higher being the sea sung for. few were handed a lot of luck, others were touched by incomparable beauty, some had a whit sharper than their canines. her soul, however, often seemed to be forged by all that and more. marlowe wondered if all folk from the cold, french coasts from which she reigned could spout such grandiosity. was it why she had fled to neverland ? survival required exceptionalism, after all, not normality.

unfortunately, the sandy-haired man could not even claim ordinariness. 'mediocrity’ was much more fitting. his sheer existence seemed hollow at best and worthless at worst, never surmounting to anything more than : futile.     “ have you not considered that the lack of company i keep is the fault of those around me rather than myself ? a coterie of beautiful faces yet lacking anything of attraction further than skin-deep. “     , marlowe spat back, allowing his bitter embarrassment to peek through more than he’d wished. the lady’s words were scathing, burning in his ears, digging a hole into his head. she knew nothing.

“ besides, why waste my time chittering with poor imitations of excellency when i already have her attention. “     as prodigious as anouk could claim to be, she was not nor would she ever be ianthe—a sovereign forged from sparkling steel versus the other’s armor of ivory. grabbing a clump of seaweed from out the sandy floor, marlowe shoved it into his mouth and chewed ( letting his animosity take physical form in the gnashing of fangs against slime ). refusing to face towards anouk, knowing all too well how pitiful he looked, the homemade poultice was spat into his palm and pressed against the minor wound.     “ perhaps it’s not just a mechanism, frenchie. perhaps i’m more clever than you give me credit, and, just maybe, underestimation is my advantage. “

[lowetyde]

“Aphrodite’s thirst was never quenched; it was cruel and dreamy. It was certainly the most splendid kind of thirst.”

— Arthur Rimbaud, from Selected Poems & Prose; “Silence and Sacrifice,” (via violentwavesofemotion)