The squid is a light, smoke grey colour, its skin almost translucent. It swims quietly through the water by itself. It's fine - it doesn't mind being alone. It prefers it, really. It's peaceful, and quiet, even if it is a little sad to be by itself, it's not so bad. It could be worse. The creature remembers that somewhere, distantly, it used to be a whole lot worse.
The desire to be more to be someone, instead of something creeps up on it slowly, and drives it to swim towards the shore. The creature is unsure, though, whether or not this is what it really wants, or if it's simply being driven by a deeper need. In the end, it doesn't matter.
He still comes to shore.
The transformation from squid to man comes easily once it's damp, coarse sand underneath him instead of simply seawater, and he mumbles a thanks to the Waker who hands him the bag and the robe he pulls on to cover himself.
Martin - oh, right, his name is Martin - sits quietly on shore for a time, watching the waves roll in while he tries to figure out where he is. It's not the Lonely, although the sea does remind him of... God, Peter Lukas, of all people. That's not who he wants to remember, though. He wants to remember his friends (he did have friends, didn't he?), his family, the people he cared about before he came here.
He notices something white and round, rolling around in the waves that wash up over his legs, and he reaches for it. A shell, or a little pebble, or perhaps a bit of sea glass, he thinks. He turns it over in his hand to take a closer look.
The eye, green and glass, peers up at him and it feels like it's looking through him, except he knows it shouldn't be able to. It's just a fake eye. He still drops it and scrambles back before the memory hits.
Jon. Where is Jon? One way or another, they were supposed to stay together. Martin lunges forward to snatch the eye back from the water again. He can't lose it now. What if that's all that's left? That can't be all that's left, some horrible eye to remind him of everything that's been lost.
His fingers curl around the smooth glass as he calls out across the shore. "Jon! Jon? Where are you?"
A Faded Memory
It's hard to look away from the lighthouse when Martin spots it. He can practically feel it calling to him to come have a look. He'd rather not, but he does anyway. He paces back and forth on the beach a bit, though, before making the swim out. It would have, he thinks, been an easier trip as a squid, but he's not a squid any more, and he doesn't particularly want to be again.
He doesn't want to risk forgetting again.
Martin hesitates again after he pulls himself from the cold water, and climbs the steps to the lighthouse. It's beyond creepy, but he's already seen plenty of things horrifying things. This can't possibly be worse, can it? It feels like it could maybe be worse.
He takes a peek inside the door, trying not to touch it, to get a glimpse of what awaits inside, and makes a face at the green blood coating the walls before stepping back, covering his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his soaked robes to try to filter out the overwhelming smell of the flowers.
Oh no. He doesn't want anything to do with this whatsoever.
For a time, Martin does manage to resist the urge to go in and explore, to climb the tower to re-ignite the lamp, even though he's sure that's what needs to be done.
It's not until someone else comes along that he gives in and looks at them, with wide eyes and says, "I, um. I - I think we're supposed to go inside."
Martin Blackwood | The Magnus Archives | Paleblood
The squid is a light, smoke grey colour, its skin almost translucent. It swims quietly through the water by itself. It's fine - it doesn't mind being alone. It prefers it, really. It's peaceful, and quiet, even if it is a little sad to be by itself, it's not so bad. It could be worse. The creature remembers that somewhere, distantly, it used to be a whole lot worse.
The desire to be more to be someone, instead of something creeps up on it slowly, and drives it to swim towards the shore. The creature is unsure, though, whether or not this is what it really wants, or if it's simply being driven by a deeper need. In the end, it doesn't matter.
He still comes to shore.
The transformation from squid to man comes easily once it's damp, coarse sand underneath him instead of simply seawater, and he mumbles a thanks to the Waker who hands him the bag and the robe he pulls on to cover himself.
Martin - oh, right, his name is Martin - sits quietly on shore for a time, watching the waves roll in while he tries to figure out where he is. It's not the Lonely, although the sea does remind him of... God, Peter Lukas, of all people. That's not who he wants to remember, though. He wants to remember his friends (he did have friends, didn't he?), his family, the people he cared about before he came here.
He notices something white and round, rolling around in the waves that wash up over his legs, and he reaches for it. A shell, or a little pebble, or perhaps a bit of sea glass, he thinks. He turns it over in his hand to take a closer look.
The eye, green and glass, peers up at him and it feels like it's looking through him, except he knows it shouldn't be able to. It's just a fake eye. He still drops it and scrambles back before the memory hits.
Jon. Where is Jon? One way or another, they were supposed to stay together. Martin lunges forward to snatch the eye back from the water again. He can't lose it now. What if that's all that's left? That can't be all that's left, some horrible eye to remind him of everything that's been lost.
His fingers curl around the smooth glass as he calls out across the shore. "Jon! Jon? Where are you?"
A Faded Memory
It's hard to look away from the lighthouse when Martin spots it. He can practically feel it calling to him to come have a look. He'd rather not, but he does anyway. He paces back and forth on the beach a bit, though, before making the swim out. It would have, he thinks, been an easier trip as a squid, but he's not a squid any more, and he doesn't particularly want to be again.
He doesn't want to risk forgetting again.
Martin hesitates again after he pulls himself from the cold water, and climbs the steps to the lighthouse. It's beyond creepy, but he's already seen plenty of things horrifying things. This can't possibly be worse, can it? It feels like it could maybe be worse.
He takes a peek inside the door, trying not to touch it, to get a glimpse of what awaits inside, and makes a face at the green blood coating the walls before stepping back, covering his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his soaked robes to try to filter out the overwhelming smell of the flowers.
Oh no. He doesn't want anything to do with this whatsoever.
For a time, Martin does manage to resist the urge to go in and explore, to climb the tower to re-ignite the lamp, even though he's sure that's what needs to be done.
It's not until someone else comes along that he gives in and looks at them, with wide eyes and says, "I, um. I - I think we're supposed to go inside."