she feasts by the shore
Originally posted on 2024-08-08 on AO3
“So what do mermaids eat?” asked the child, curiously.
“Sailors, mostly,” the mermaid answered off key, her voice roughed up from trying to sing above the surface.
The child frowned, confused. “Sailors?”
The mermaid dove back into the water for a few seconds, gulping a mouthful of seawater to moisturize her skin and throat. When she came back out, the child was no longer sitting down on the rocks leading to her cave, in fact, the little human was climbing up the rocks with a skill the mermaid envied. She loved the sea and she wouldn’t change it for anything, but she couldn’t help the pang of jealousy at witnessing the prowess of the two-legged being.
With a final shrug, the mermaid went back under, swam for a while then promptly fell asleep as the sun set on the horizon, giving a shimmering light to the sea above her.
She didn’t know how much time passed, just that it was still dark when she heard a voice near the surface calling out for her. She swam back up as fast as she could, gasping as she came out of the water, strands of green hair sticking to her face.
The child she met earlier was staring at her curiously, holding a bowl of something close to their chest. “I didn’t know if you’d come, I don’t know your name,” the child said.
“My name… is a song,” she said, trying her best to keep her voice even, but her dry throat didn’t help.
“My name is Blair but my mum calls me Bee. She says it’s because I’m a wee little thing.”
The mermaid coughed up a laugh, then went back under the water to gulp some water before going back up.
“I brought you this,” said Blair, putting the bowl on a rock next to him, where it balanced delicately, dangerously close to the water.
“What is this?” she asked.
“My mum’s mashed potatoes. She puts cream and butter and garlic in them and they taste delicious.” After a short moment of thinking, Blair added, “better than sailors, I bet.”
The mermaid made a face at the bowl. It didn’t smell bad but it looked ugly. Not at all like the bright colors of fresh raw meat. She touched the mashed potatoes with a finger and it sank in the creamy substance. She was officially curious about this mashed potatoes thing.
Blair hit the back of her hand and she pulled again, hissing. The kid didn’t even flinch. “You have to eat with a spoon. My mum says it’s bad manners to eat with your hands.”
Then, Blair reached into their pocket and produced a shiny, elongated object that ended in a small, shallow oval bowl. “Spoon?” she asked, pointing at the object.
“Yes, like this.” Blair demonstrated how to eat the creamy substance by taking a smaller portion of the food in the spoon and taking it to their mouth. “See? It’s easy.”
The mermaid nodded, took a quick dip to swallow some water, then came back to the surface. She moved her hair out of the way and moved closer to the rocks, reaching out for the utensil the child was offering.
She took a big portion of mashed potatoes in her spoon and brought it to her face for close inspection. It smelled slightly pungent and earthy, vaguely familiar, like something she knew in a dream inside a dream.
Then she put the substance in her mouth and chewed, expecting to find a hard piece of something inside, but there were barely any lumps in the creamy mixture. Once she realized there was nothing else to do but swallow, she did just that.
The child looked at her expectantly. “And?” they asked.
It tasted like a summer sunset by the shore, when the sand and the rocks are still warm from the day under the relentless heat. It was earthy, yes, but it was also rich and savory, just the right amount of salt that made her palate sing (not like anchovies, those dreaded fish). It was soft but thick without feeling heavy. It left a nice aftertaste on her tongue that made her crave just another bite.
“Can I… have more?” she asked.
The child smiled. “I’ll do you one better.” They pulled a piece of something from their pocket. It smelled like a fresh version of the bread she’d seen on the ships she haunted. “Mum says no meal is complete without bread.”
The mermaid gasped as she tried to form words, then sank below the surface to drink up. When she came back, the child was looking at her curiously.
“Do you know bread?” they asked.
“I’ve smelled some bread.”
Blair looked comically astonished. “You’ve never eaten bread?”
“No bread… in the water,” she explained.
“Right, right. Of course,” Blair nodded. “You have to try this.”
Blair proceeded to break a piece of bread and pass it to her. Then, he dipped the bread in the mashed potatoes and bit into the bread with gusto.
The mermaid reached for the bowl and copied the child’s actions, getting a heap of the mash on the bread, then used her razor-sharp teeth to tear into the bread and chewed.
Oh.
So that was why the ships carried so much of this bread thing.
She kept chewing until the bread and the mash were one thing, then swallowed, biting back an embarrassing moan.
“See? I told you it was better than sailors!” Blair said, clearly proud of themselves.
The mermaid wouldn’t go as far as to say better than the fresh meat of a man, but it was probably as close to it as any human food would ever get.
“More?” Blair offered, holding the bowl of mash for her.
“I’d love that.”