Mystic Waters - Lumity AU

Chapter 8 - Questions

Eda POV

Well, Lily always told me that wanting to know everything would get me in trouble someday. Now that I accidentally just turned this human into a witch, that part of me that needed knowledge, needed answers, needed to understand this new thing began screaming at me more than King does on a regular basis. For all I know, this sort of thing is completely unprecedented, and if anyone's going to learn more about it, it's going to be me.

Did I offer to essentially 'take her home,' when she knows nothing about me? Yes. Did she consent? Also yes. Am I being supervised by the other kid? Also also yes. The swim back home took ... longer than expected, to say the least. Between the seemingly constant questions from the human (what did she call herself, Lose? Eh, I'll remember it later) to the relentless, watchful, and suspicious gaze of the witchling to having to go slowly for the human (both out of her lack of being accustomed to having a tail and her panic regarding the depth) to just the overall mood of the night, it was not a very fun time. But, believe me, it was all bearable.

At least, compared to getting the human to put her head underwater in the first place.

I used to cherish the sound of panic. But now that I've had to deal with it, I know firsthand just how disturbing it is. That human really did not want to move, at all. I was honestly surprised nothing from The Above woke up from her incessant squeals and started chasing us.

I really wish I had the energy to regale the entire tale of such an experience, but I don't. That might just be because it was a strange kind of both fun and awful. It made me feel like a mom, which was very gross, but it also made me feel like a mom, which was a pretty rewarding feeling. Not quite sure how to feel there. Whether it took a few minutes or an eternity to get to my home depends similarly on what mood I'm in. Knowing me, I would give different responses from day to day. Honestly, I'm not quite sure why I let the green-haired girl come with us. There's no way that could possibly go wrong, right?

Right?

She's not here.

It isn't normally the case that she's not here, especially now. She should be here, she always is. It's a part of her life. It's her home. There is no reason why she shouldn't be here. Not that can realistically be thought of as being part of her own accord, that is. Doing what she does as consistently as she does it, well, it was easy to see and know how that was bound to get her in some sort of trouble.

Through a hall whose location matters little, a hall far from the object of worry, the usual silence is broken by fins piercing water. The swishes of mostly horizontal, yet also vertically sinusoid-appearing motion seems faster than what is considered normal. "Is it obligation or duty?" The swimmer asks themselves. "Or is this a sort of legitimate, familial caring instinct?" Whichever it is, the individual knows that this sort of emotion is very, very new to them, especially in the relationship they ponder. "Why do you always insist on going to the surface like this?" The figure mutters under their breath. "Now I have to come looking for you." 

It isn't long before the figure rises to the surface, with moonlight piercing the skies of The Above. Much to the figure's surprise, that which they are looking for is not there, as normally expected. Granted, darkness enveloped much of the atmosphere, but witches have impeccable night vision capabilities from spending much, if not all, of their lives deep underwater, where the light taken for granted by the inhabitants of The Above is a luxury of The Below. Even the one rock somewhat far out from shore, yet close enough to remain above the water's surface regardless of the tide featured not even a trace of the figure's objective.

"Alador, calm down." The words from the not-entirely-surfaced figure's mouth were difficult to make out by anyone from any semblance of distance, but were just audible enough to convey the figure's sense of dread. "She must be here somewhere. Amity has the strength to fend off anyone who may dare approach her. You trained her yourself, you should know." Alador took a second to remain still, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. It was a process some witches used to take in their surroundings, to become one with them. Since sight is frequently unreliable, other senses reign supreme in The Below.

Alador first searched for any semblance of violence, seeing if the water would tell him anything. He could pick up nothing of the sort. There was no blood spilled here, at least, no witch blood. He felt a sense of panic and dread tugging him from far out into the ocean, but not the sort of response he'd get from one of his family. No, not just of his family, of his kind. With no evidence to inform him of anything else, Alador's mind began to see the most likely conclusion: the only reason his daughter is nowhere to be found was because she herself did not wish to be - or rather, wherever she went was somewhere she actively wanted to go.

A foul taste of betrayal soon faded from Alador's tongue, however strong it was. What it left behind was a faint disappointment in himself. He was unsure quite what he was disappointed about, so he told himself it was his lack of capability to keep his daughter under his control and moved on. Newfound determination spurred him on as he dove back under the low waves, trickling onto the sand he had never bothered to ask. The same sand that would have held all his answers.

So, uh, hi. I was gone for a while, wasn't I? Nothing really major happened, you don't have to worry about me. I'm still chugging along. I plan to, as long as it takes. Here's to hoping my horrible setting writing doesn't get me stuck on next chapter for another three months. *sigh* Here's to hoping.

-SuperBadCat