Rue
A good cry was what she needed.
There was ink caressing her tear-stained cheeks.
But it was not the darkness that had once filled her with dread and fear, but the gentle touch of good ink. The tendrils brushed away the tears on her lashes. And they were cool against her face. It was a very human gesture, one that she no longer questioned as friend or foe.
The good ink, the tendrils, the shadows, it was an intelligence, she decided. It was not human, and she still doubted that it was capable of speech. Yet she decided, with a growing certainty, that it was aware of her feelings, that it could understand her. That it was concerned. She felt better now after a good cry. And it was time to work.
"Where are we?" she asked quietly.
The good ink paused, almost as if considering the question.
"Where is this place?" she offered.
The good ink quivered. A strand leapt upwards, soaring through the air before falling back into the black surface beneath them. Another followed. Then another. The motion was repeated several times, forming a strange pattern Rue could not immediately understand. She frowned.
"Is this…Charades?"
The darkness froze for one solid second, then continued. Each leap was smooth and deliberate. Upwards. Downwards. Up. Down. The shadows spilled across the ground beneath them, creating circles. Rue stared, trying to make sense of it. The shape was hill like, repeated, it was like a cog-wheel in a machine.
"Mountain? Machine?"
The tendrils repeated the motion.
"Rainbow?" she guessed, already knowing it sounded ridiculous.
The response was immediate this time. A frustration made known. The darkness surged with renewed energy, splashing even more vigorously than before. It was irritated; she grimaced.
"Circles? The infinity symbol? A teleportation device?" Her brows furrowed. The good ink shuddered at her suggestions. She needed to use her brain. "This isn't hell or heaven, right?"
The shadows continued their strange demonstration.
"Some kind of planet?" They seemed to froth. "Okay, okay," she nodded. "Let me think."
She watched the arc. The rippling circles spreading outward. Then suddenly her mind connected the pieces. The leap. The curve. The splash. The ripples. Was she a fucking idiot? Her eyes widened.
"Are you showing me a fish?"
The darkness froze. Several tendrils curled upward in excitement. Her heart skipped a beat; something swelled in her throat. Her last location. The moments before 'death'. She knew where they were.
"Cetus?"
One strand immediately rose. It bobbed, up and down like a nod. Rue stared.
"We're inside Cetus?"
The tendril nodded again. Fuck. She should have been horrified. Perhaps a part of her was. Yet after everything she had witnessed, after everything she had experienced, the answer was logical. The last thing she remembered before awakening was the jaws of that fucking monster. The monstrous whale that had risen from the ocean like something from ancient mythology with black tentacles and rot seeping from its eyes. She had been falling into its mouth. She'd fucking seen Kieran disappear into its mouth, minced into a pie. And somehow, they had survived.
They were inside the beast and alive thanks to the ink. Rue released a slow breath as her mind struggled to process the reality of their situation. Questions immediately rose. If they were eaten…She looked toward her lovers, their bodies still recovering from injuries that should have killed them. Then she turned back toward the shadows.
"Did you heal me too?"
The shadows bobbed.
Yes.
Fuck. She spun on her heels, nails to her lips. She owed them her life. Her mind was spiralling, creativity roaring. Science-fiction growing. Panic swelled within her. Her lips parted.
"Please don't tell me that we're actually just dead and hallucinating, or something along those lines."
The ink swayed. No?
"I'm like, still me, right?" She tried to make sense of it. "I'm not like some kind of clone, or," she tried to come up with the words, "fungus, or some kind of fake me because the real me is dead?"
No. No. No.
She continued pressing. "Just to confirm, all you did was heal our wounds? My DNA isn't fucked? We're not harbouring some kind of fucking monster uh, sleeper agent or something that just bursts from our chests—"
No. No. No.
"Okay, okay," she breathed, pinched the tip of her nose. "You're not like a sentient part of Cetus that's trying to like brainwash me, right?"
No. This time it seemed to roll its eyes.
"I'm still me?"
Yes!
"Had to check," she admitted, somehow, she trusted the good ink. Her gut was telling her to believe in them. "The last monster I've met tried to screw with my head." She exhaled. "Then what are you? Are you…Something like a hades' shadows?"
No.
"You look like ink," she told it. It swayed at that as if questioning her words. "What's ink? Uh," she pondered that question. "It's the thing that giant insects…uh," she cleared her throat. "Titans, make in their hives. They create it and it's capable of controlling Espers—" It continued swaying as if it didn't know what the fuck she was talking about. She sighed. "Alright, uh we're in Cetus' belly?"
Somewhat.
"You're some kind of byproduct of the stomach?"
Yes. So it was not an alien. She squinted at the ink.
"Stomach Acid?"
No.
"Good bacteria?" It seemed to give her a strange look, and this had a small laugh coming from her. "I guess we'll figure that out eventually." Rue shrugged. Her boys must know more about the good ink, considering the fact that Cetus was their weapon. But for now, it was time to think of a way to leave. All beasts that had mouths had buttholes. "Is there an exit?"
The darkness swayed slowly from side to side. No. A knot tightened painfully in her stomach. She cleared her throat. Perhaps, she had to ask more questions for a better answer. Perhaps, the details and mechanics of the situation was important. She tried her best to think.
"Can we escape Cetus?"
No.
"Is there a way to leave this place?"
No.
"Can we leave through its anus?" This had the ink freezing as if confused, but it shook. No. The certainty of the response made her chest feel hollow. Her brows furrowed. She was not giving up. "Can we escape from its mouth?"
No.
"It's a whale, right? Whales have holes? Can we try that?"
No.
"Is there a way to induce some kind of vomiting?"
No.
"Why not?" she erupted. "Are you saying no, because you can't say yes? Can you say yes again just to confirm—" It bobbed. "Urgh fuck." She gave it one last try. "Is it because we're too weak or some kind of bodily harm will occur to us if we exit by its anus or mouth?"
No.
"Are you trying to tell me that there's literally no exit?"
Yes.
"Is there no way to escape this space?"
Yes.
"Is this because you've tried?"
Yes.
"Fuck!" she groaned.
The ink seemed to look at her sympathetically. For several long moments she simply sat there in silence, staring into the darkness. Exhaustion was settling into her bones now that the adrenaline was fading. Her limbs felt heavy. Her entire body ached. Every muscle trembled from strain. Her mates were unconscious, perhaps waiting for them to wake would be a better move. Then another thought occurred to her.
"Is there somewhere we can rest?"
The darkness paused.
"I'm tired," she explained. "I'm hungry. I guess, I could sleep on the ground. But food? Water? We need sustenance to survive. Is there—"
The reaction was immediate. The good ink became animated. Tendrils shot upward and swirled through the air. It bobbed rapidly, darting about like an excited animal.
Rue blinked. "There's somewhere like that, here?"
It seemed almost incredible, considering the fact that they were in the belly of the beast. But the shadows practically exploded with enthusiasm. They darted in circles around her, spiralling upwards and splashing about. It was such an unexpected response that a small giggle escaped her lips despite everything. It was kind of cute.
"What the fuck?" she snorted. One tendril wrapped around her wrist. Another prodded at her shoulder. "Take us there?" she asked. "Please?"
Then the ground beneath them rumbled. The black surface that had seemed solid only seconds ago now began to ripple violently. Waves spreading outwards beneath their feet, growing larger with every passing second. Her body began to sway. Her eyes widened. Black water. It lapped at the edges. The black ocean. Rue gasped. But she did not sink into the depths of the void as she once did on the island, instead she remained, knelt upon a strangely jelly-like surface.
The good ink was holding her.
Her lovers were lifted as well, their unconscious bodies carried effortlessly upon the waves. None of them sank, drifting and bobbing. It felt as if the waves carried them, like a sea of salt that lifted their bodies. A strange wind rushed through her hair. She had no idea where it came from. But eventually, she realised they were moving. They were shooting through the ocean, torpedoing into the endless silvery darkness. They were led through the darkness and for a while, they travelled across the black sea.
Then something emerged in the distance.
A boat. Rue's breath caught in her throat. The vessel floated upon the waves. It was larger than some fishing vessels, but not large enough to be considered a full ship. It was the size of a yacht but the design was foreign, sail fanned out like spread wings, body curved upwards. It was like a flying hut on ski boards, archaic in its detailing. Deep cracks ran along its surface, splitting the material in places where braces struggled to hold it all together. The dual prows seemed blunt, years of erosion wearing it away.
The entire boat seemed abandoned. But it was the remains of life that alarmed her. The washing still drifting in a phantom breeze, rags hanging on twine. The careless hang of a fishing rod. It was as though people had once lived here too and that fucking alarmed her. Had Cetus consumed more aliens? But the structure was old…Too old. Her thoughts were immediately on the owners, on how long they'd spent in this place before their death. She swallowed hard.
The shadows lifted Rue from the waves and gently placed her upon the deck. The flooring creaked beneath her weight. The sound echoed. She stood for a moment, taking everything in. Broken lanterns dangled from hooks. Thick ropes swung from the mast, swollen from age and coated in a strange silvery dust. It had windows in the cabin. But the glass was slightly shattered in the frame as if a fight had occurred once. There was a door slightly ajar. Near the forefront of the deck were two tables. Logs surrounded them, clearly used as chairs. But it was the plates on the bench that unsettled her. The traces of the living. An overturned mug. An empty plate and fork. A fishing net draped over boxes.
But the silvery dust was everywhere. She wiped a finger through, and it came away, powdery from age. Dust this thick was both a bad and good sign. She swallowed hard. It meant, that she didn't have to worry about being digested. But it also represented the years the boat had spent drifting within the whale.
Her mates were lowered carefully onto the deck beside her. She hurried to check if they were comfortable, once again placed her fingers on their pulse. The boat rocked gently beneath her. Then she stood, turning to explore. She could not call the material truly timber, although it looked like it. But the structure groaned softly with every sway of the waves. A sound like that of a slow human groan. Ancient, obviously close to its limit. It was all so fucking creepy. She gulped, eyes darting to the cabin at the very centre of the vessel.
She might find bodies. But she had bigger things to worry about, like food.She entered it carefully, not before a very superstitious knock on the door for ghosts. For her sanity, she turned to her audience behind her with a scowl. "Don't judge." Her men remained blissfully asleep. The good ink continued staring, but they crept up close and that helped a little. "Thanks," she smiled as they hovered behind her. She schooled herself. Fuck it. She rushed in quickly.
The interior of the boat was surprisingly intact despite its age. Narrow shelves lined the walls. A rusted stove occupied one corner next to the broken window; storage lockers filling the space. There were two cots at the other end of the room, threadbare fabric draped over the wooden structure. The room smelled faintly of something herbal, a strange scent considering the largely scentless ocean. And it was odd because the void seemed to remove all smell, she could barely smell her boys after all.
She opened a cupboard and immediately found rows of cans. Canned food. Surprise and relief roared within her. Fuck yes. She picked one up. The can immediately crumbled in her hands and she jolted back in horror when it snapped. The lid yawned revealing black sludge. Its label had long rotted away. The bottom bulged ominously, and with a shake it began to crumble into dust. Dust. Her mouth fell open. What the fuck? The second can was no better. Then the third. She sighed.
Every preserved food source had succumbed to time. Jars were empty, some held black water. Crates were filled with more silver dust. Entire shelves collapsed when she touched them, spilling debris across the floor. At one point she discovered what appeared to be a packet of some kind of rations. But the moment she peeled open the plastic, a cloud of dust wafted from within. It had her coughing and then gagging violently, pushing open the windows desperately for air. By the time Rue emerged back onto the deck, her disappointment was heavy on her shoulders.
Shit.
What was she thinking? Of course there was nothing to eat. The ship was old as fuck. She leaned against the railing and stared out into the endless black sea. The silver dust somehow gave the ship a strange, ominous glow, the only form of light in the darkness. Her stomach growled painfully. Rue rubbed a hand across her face and released a tired sigh. Her gaze darted to her men. Fuck, they'd die of starvation first.
"I appreciate the boat," she said to the shadows, glancing around at the ancient vessel. "Really. It's nice. I love shelter. But unless there's a bunch of food hiding somewhere, we're going to have a problem." She sighed. "And water. Can the ocean be drunk from? It's stomach acid, right?" She groaned. "Fuck."
The tendrils immediately stirred, swaying in the air in understanding.
"What?"
The movement intensified.
Then, before she could ask another question, they plunged over the side of the boat and disappeared beneath the black water. The sea grew still once more. She leaned, stared into the darkness, squinting. Then the surface bubbled. Rue stepped back as it erupted. Dark tendrils emerged carrying something between them.
A fish.
A real fucking fish.
Rue's eyes widened, hand over head as water rained over her.
It was the length of her forearm, black scales shimmering beneath the strange light. It looked like tuna, bloated body still slick with moisture as the shadows carefully lowered it onto the deck. It slapped against the wood, thumping hard with strength. She stared. Then another appeared, flopping on board. The good ink kept going. Some resembled salmon. Others looked closer to cod. One enormous fish was nearly the size of a small child and seemed to require quite a bit of effort to drag onboard. Rue looked between the fish and the shadows.
"What the fuck? There's fish in the ocean?"
The shadows appeared delighted by her reaction. They almost seemed to chirp, dancing about in delight. Then immediately vanished again. This time they returned carrying tangled masses of seaweed. Seaweed. She gawked. Deep ribbons still dripping with black water. Broad leaves larger than her hand. The pile continued growing. Sea grapes in translucent bundles. Thick fronds of more kelp. The deck was brimming like a market. Every time she believed they were finished, the shadows disappeared and returned with something new.
Bundles filled with shellfish and crustaceans. She stared at the glittering shells in absolute wonder. Oysters. Mussels. Clusters of sea urchins. Strange black shrimp. Crabs with thick pincers. Most of the creatures were different from what she knew. Bigger, darker. They were almost always a shimmery obsidian from the ocean. Possibly a feature from evolution in a space as dark as this one was. But they were all clearly alive.
The shadows deposited their catch proudly before retreating to observe her reaction. Rue crouched beside the growing collection. She understood immediately. An entire goddamn ocean existed here. It was an impossible, self-sustaining ecosystem buried within the body of a creature large enough to contain its own sea. That explained the fishing nets that hung over the boat. This was how the previous occupants had survived. Rue laughed. The shadows seemed pleased. Survival was possible. And as the boat rocked gently upon the endless black sea, Rue found herself filled with new roaring hope.