The fish tell him that there’s a man who stands by the pier, dropping copper coins into the water.
They are annoyed because they have no use for copper and they’d rather have breadcrumbs or slop and dirty swill to nibble on. Malik only listens because they mention the man has golden eyes.
He only follows them because he wants the coins.
And he only stays beneath the pier, hidden and quiet, because the man with the golden eyes speaks to the ocean like a crazy person.
The man says, “My master tells me I should be grateful that the spirits of the sea seem to favor me.”
A coin plops into the water, and Malik waits for it to sink all the way to the floor before picking it up. Meanwhile, the human recites a prayer of some sort, dull and monotonous like memorized lines from a text he has only learned to appease his master. The moment he is finished, his words become colored with sarcasm and arrogance.
“So, merciful sea spirits, I offer you four—no, five copper coins in thanks. May I never have the misfortune to be swept away by your waves again,” he drawls, and tosses a small pouch into the water.
This, Malik darts out for, snatching the pouch and retreating back to the shadows of the pier. He tugs it open, looking at the copper coins; they are small and round, but beautiful in the palm of his hand. The man starts to walk away, wooden boards creaking despite the lightness of his steps.
Malik doesn’t know the worth of five copper coins on land, but they are precious underwater. He digs through the pouch he carries, fingers tangling with the string of glass beads he keeps as a decorative charm. The glass comes from the volcano that bubbles and steams in the deepest part of the ocean, so maybe it might be something special to humans. In any case, a part of him just wants to prove the man wrong—Malik might not be a sea spirit, but the human seems to think that it was only luck that has saved him the night of the storm.
Peeking above the murky water, he squints at the man’s retreating back and tosses the charm.
Malik’s aim is horrible—he forgets that air is thinner than water—and the charm hits the human on the head. He ducks back down, torn between mortification and having to stifle his snickering at the man’s yelp of surprise.
He doesn’t end up staying, as the human grows suspicious enough to start peering into the water, but the weight of the coins feel pleasant in Malik’s hand, even long after he dives back into the depths where the sunlight can’t touch him.
---
Malik visits the pier for the second day in the row. Somehow, he is unsurprised to find the man there.
The man doesn’t say his prayer of thanks, but he drops a small knife, silver and shining, into the water.
Malik searches through his pouch again and waits until the human turns his head away so that he could slip his own blade, made from blue coral, through the cracks of the wooden beams. Its jagged edges scrape loudly on the wood, causing the human to turn his head quickly.
The man gets on all fours, trying to see through the cracks, but Malik is long gone by then, clutching the silver knife with a grin that doesn’t fade for a long while.
---
On the third day, the human leaves out a necklace with a single pearl, sounding smug about how he has managed to obtain it from a thief. (And he adamant in telling Malik—or the sea spirit, really—that he has had no luck in finding its owner, and that the pearl is better off back in the sea.)
Malik scoffs from his spot in the shadows, leaning against the mossy support beams. He throws pebbles when the man is not looking, and is pleased to find that his aim has gotten much better.
---
The next day the human drops tiny parcels of spices and tea from a place called China. They blossom and bloom in the water, leaving behind an earthy, pleasant scent.
Malik places a cup, carved from the white bone of a whale with patterned edges of waves, on the far edge of the pier for the man—whose eyes have gotten far too swift as of late—and watches, this time, as the man kneels to pick up with a smile.
The Moon and the Tide [2/?]
They are annoyed because they have no use for copper and they’d rather have breadcrumbs or slop and dirty swill to nibble on. Malik only listens because they mention the man has golden eyes.
He only follows them because he wants the coins.
And he only stays beneath the pier, hidden and quiet, because the man with the golden eyes speaks to the ocean like a crazy person.
The man says, “My master tells me I should be grateful that the spirits of the sea seem to favor me.”
A coin plops into the water, and Malik waits for it to sink all the way to the floor before picking it up. Meanwhile, the human recites a prayer of some sort, dull and monotonous like memorized lines from a text he has only learned to appease his master. The moment he is finished, his words become colored with sarcasm and arrogance.
“So, merciful sea spirits, I offer you four—no, five copper coins in thanks. May I never have the misfortune to be swept away by your waves again,” he drawls, and tosses a small pouch into the water.
This, Malik darts out for, snatching the pouch and retreating back to the shadows of the pier. He tugs it open, looking at the copper coins; they are small and round, but beautiful in the palm of his hand. The man starts to walk away, wooden boards creaking despite the lightness of his steps.
Malik doesn’t know the worth of five copper coins on land, but they are precious underwater. He digs through the pouch he carries, fingers tangling with the string of glass beads he keeps as a decorative charm. The glass comes from the volcano that bubbles and steams in the deepest part of the ocean, so maybe it might be something special to humans. In any case, a part of him just wants to prove the man wrong—Malik might not be a sea spirit, but the human seems to think that it was only luck that has saved him the night of the storm.
Peeking above the murky water, he squints at the man’s retreating back and tosses the charm.
Malik’s aim is horrible—he forgets that air is thinner than water—and the charm hits the human on the head. He ducks back down, torn between mortification and having to stifle his snickering at the man’s yelp of surprise.
He doesn’t end up staying, as the human grows suspicious enough to start peering into the water, but the weight of the coins feel pleasant in Malik’s hand, even long after he dives back into the depths where the sunlight can’t touch him.
---
Malik visits the pier for the second day in the row. Somehow, he is unsurprised to find the man there.
The man doesn’t say his prayer of thanks, but he drops a small knife, silver and shining, into the water.
Malik searches through his pouch again and waits until the human turns his head away so that he could slip his own blade, made from blue coral, through the cracks of the wooden beams. Its jagged edges scrape loudly on the wood, causing the human to turn his head quickly.
The man gets on all fours, trying to see through the cracks, but Malik is long gone by then, clutching the silver knife with a grin that doesn’t fade for a long while.
---
On the third day, the human leaves out a necklace with a single pearl, sounding smug about how he has managed to obtain it from a thief. (And he adamant in telling Malik—or the sea spirit, really—that he has had no luck in finding its owner, and that the pearl is better off back in the sea.)
Malik scoffs from his spot in the shadows, leaning against the mossy support beams. He throws pebbles when the man is not looking, and is pleased to find that his aim has gotten much better.
---
The next day the human drops tiny parcels of spices and tea from a place called China. They blossom and bloom in the water, leaving behind an earthy, pleasant scent.
Malik places a cup, carved from the white bone of a whale with patterned edges of waves, on the far edge of the pier for the man—whose eyes have gotten far too swift as of late—and watches, this time, as the man kneels to pick up with a smile.