Go With the Flow

~~~

“...And anyways, ey! Shaddup! Shaddup, pipe down, ye drunken bloated bucket'a'brine! Aye wasn't done tellin' me tale!”

Tempest Shadow rolled her eyes. She hooked a hoof around her tankard, taking a hefty swig of the mead within, her ears instinctively tilting towards the uproarious voice cutting above the others fighting for dominance in the tavern. Could it even be considered eavesdropping on her part, when the drunken sailor was doing his damnedest to make sure the entire tavern heard his tale?

“Right, right, so! 'ere I was, all by meself out there, 'avin just braved the worse of them nasty November gales--”

"It's August, ya drunk bastard!"

The interjection was met with uproarious laughter, as though it was the most entertaining thing the tavern patrons had ever heard. "Damn ye! Ignorant colt! August gales then! Ah'd managed to survive the worse of the gales, only for me ship to wind up huggin' one of them reefs up on them shoals over by Harmony Bay. The luck… survivin' a storm like that, only to go and get run aground anyways!"

"Aye, or the imagination of a certain cap'n with one hoof on the wheel and the other on the bottle!"

"Damn ye!" The stallion barked back, but Tempest heard him laugh. "Ah was sober as a schoolfilly! But plenty up the creek without a paddle! Sinkin' fast, and in the midst of a reef bed to boot! Ah dunno if any of you wee minnows've been out by Harmony Bay, but them reefs beds are a good haul from shore. Ye don't swim back from 'em if'n ye get run aground on 'em."

Across from her, above the bar, was a mirrored glass wall through which Tempest was watching the exchange in earnest now. It wasn't as though she'd anything better to do whilst nursing her mead.

The sailor continued. "And then, just when ah start my prayin' to the sisters for all them good sails before, this little light comes shinin' up outta the waves off my port side. Only light for miles, it was. And it gets brigh'er, and brigh'er, and then ah swear ah damn near keeled back when a head comes pokin' outta the waves!"

Tempest blinked. She turned, and suddenly her interest in her mead was discarded.

"Out pops this… well, ah guess you'd call 'er a mare, but she got one of them glowy lights ye see on them anglers, dangling up past her head. And a big, long tail, and no hindlegs. And she starts givin' me an earful 'bout hurtin' the reefs, but in a jokin' sense. Like she weren't serious 'bout it, but lemme tell ye, the mouth on this mermare!"

"Seapony." Tempest spoke up. She hopped off the barstool and strode up to the sailors. "You're saying you saw a seapony."

"Ah swear it, shorthorn!" The sailor confirmed. "She tells me she's swimmin' to shore. Offers me a ride, but asks me to not tell nopony where I took her. 'course I oblige, considerin' she saved me life 'n all. Lemme tell ya. I ain't never seen a mermare 'fore, but if they're all as pretty 'as this'n…"

Tempest could scarcely believe her ears.

Seaponies were... Well, to say that encounters with them were never documented was an exaggeration. Secretive and reclusive as they were, they’d nonetheless occasionally prop up to greet some far out sailors--some manner of equine contact to divide their otherwise dull and plodding and isolated existences.

But one this close to shore? And swimming there intentionally, to boot? Now that was a rarity if ever she had heard of one. They at the very least knew well enough to stay away from the shore...

All except for this one.

“Did this seapony tell you what she was doing, swimming to shore?”

The sailor pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Well. She tells me... she says she’s visitin’ some fisher colt she met, she does. A strange encounter if ever ah heard ‘a one, but I ‘spose there ain’t no denying matters of the heart ‘n all.”

Oh.

Oh this was too good.

A stupid seapony was one thing. A stupid seapony with collateral to interrogate? It was Tempest’s lucky day. She could have the Pearl in her hooves in a week if she played her cards right.

That required tact, though. Ponies were a generally pliable lot, but even they would be reluctant to spill secrets to just about anypony. And though she’d ditched her armour back in the airship, Tempest Shadow still wasn’t exactly the striking figure of a sea-battered sailor that the majority of the tavern cast.

She waved a waitress over, and nodded towards an empty seat at the sailor’s table. In his inebriation, he seemed happy to indulge her, so she sat down just as the waitress arrived.

“Few more rounds for the table,” Tempest said. “So... About that seapony...”

~~~

Star Point knew that Flowing was amphibious, but only for a short while. She’d explained it to him the first day they’d spent together, cuddling on the deck of Star Point’s fishing boat beneath the hot sun. As she’d... So terrifyingly demonstrated earlier that evening, she was fully capable of breathing oxygen through her mouth as well as water from her gills, for what usually amounted to a few hours. Some sort of evolutionary fluke, she claimed, from when her kind had first taken to the waves. She claimed it always felt a little stranger to her, and the way she described it to Star Point made it sound not dissimilar to how a pony feels using a snorkel. Breath wasn’t really limited, but it was at least a little more tiring and a little more unpleasant.

However, oxygen wasn’t the only problem.

He got the impression that Flowing didn’t want to mention it, but he could tell that the more time she spent out of water, the more uncomfortable and exhausted she became. Straight out of water, his fishy marefriend wasn’t exactly slimy, at least compared to some of the fish Star Point had handled. Yet her scaly skin was still slick to the touch, and the longer she spent out of water, the drier it would become. Her scales would become rough, coarse, and he could tell that it was a strange sensation for Flowing.

And... There was another issue, too, with her spending the night in bed with Star Point.

“I, uh...” Flowing bit her lip. The two of them were laying on the deck of Star’s ship, while the waves gently rocked them to and fro. Flowing was laying within one of the 600L plastic bins Star usually used for storing fish, sprayed squeaky clean. He was laying next to her on a deck-chair. The temptation had been there, to crawl in with her, but...

Well, Flowing herself explained it before too long anyways.

“I dunno how best to say this, but... You probably don’t wanna take me into bed with you tonight.”

“Yeah?”

Star sat up, but just to grab another pair of ciders from the four-pack he’d brought out from his ship’s kitchen fridge. Technically a felon to crack them open on a vessel of it’s size, but they were docked in port.

He passed the second cider to Flowing. “Why’s that?”

“Cause of the smell, silly.” She cracked open her own cider, taking a generous swig. “I know you work with fishies all day, but you wouldn’t exactly take ‘em into bed with you, would you?”

He chuckled. “That’s what laundry soap’s for.”

“It sticks. Trust me. You’ll wake up smelling like you used anchovy paste for cologne.”

Star Point was smirking like a school colt. “Yeah? Would that excite you, if I did?”

Flowing rolled her eyes. “Mm. You’re already such a snack. I dunno if I could handle it.”

“Given that stunt you pulled earlier, I dunno whether to be flattered or frightened. Y’know, it’s funny. You know how your Queen always tells you stories about how dangerous the ‘above’ folks are?”

“Mmhm...”

“Well. We have about six filly’s tales that are all about stupid, lusty sailors goin’ and followin’ a Siren’s song out to their demise.”

“Yeah?” Flowing puffed her chest out, seeming proud by that. “Well. Next time you’re out sailing, and you hear a beautiful voice over the waves, singing Shoooo be dooooooo... I sure hope you don’t go following it.”

“Sorry, can’t hear you. Already jumpin’ overboard.” Star returned, sipping his own cider with a laugh. “Shoo be do?”

“It’s an old folk song we like to sing. Want me to sing it for you?”

“Gods would I ever.”

“I’m no Siren. Don’t expect a stunning vocal performance,” Flowing warned. She took another swig of her cider to prep her vocal muscles, and then;

“Shoo be doo! Shoo shoo be doo! Call upon the sea ponies, when you're in distress! Helpful as can be ponies, simply signal S-O-S! If you find you're cast adrift and haven't got an oar! Count upon the seaponies - they'll see you to shore! Shoo be doo! Shoo shoo be doo!”

Panting, apparently not realizing how into her vocal performance Flowing had gotten, she started to blush instantly.

Star Point stared. He blinked.

Then, he began to break out into a series of laughs, to Flowing's great chagrin.

“Hey! I told you I wasn’t great!”

“I’m not laughing at you,” Star Point promised immediately. She wouldn’t be mistaken for a Siren anytime soon, but her voice was hardly horrible either. “Just... What does ‘shoo be doo’ even mean?”

“It’s seapony for ‘eat the earth pony’s legs last, they taste the best,” Flowing replied. “No, seriously. I don’t know. But you gotta admit, it’s catchy.”

“I think it’s already stuck in my head.”

Flowing smirked, and the two were silent for a few moments, in which they each sipped their respective ciders and looked up at the canopy of stars above. It wasn’t quite as wide and bright as it would have been out on open water, but it was stunning all the same.

“It kinda describes how a lot of us try and act, though,” Flowing said eventually. “I know I’m, uh. A bit of a hellion...”

“A bit,” Star repeated with a nod. “But only a bit. A harmless hellion.”

“I try,” Flowing laughed. “It’s the seapony way; lending a helping fin. The ocean is a big, scary, dangerous place. I think it might even be more dangerous than the above-waters, despite what Queen Novo tells us.”

“It seems like it. You ever see any... Sea monsters?”

“Oh yeah. Ever hear of a ‘grabber shark?”’ Flowing made a face, scrunching up her snout. “Nasty buggers. And sometimes it’s the small little creatures you’ve gotta worry about. Some of ‘em, like a louse, are so small you don’t even see ‘em, and they try to burrow in through your gills, and...”

She shuddered. “It ain’t pretty. I don’t have to worry about that around Herring Harbour because most of the dangerous stuff gets scared off by all the boats. But out on open water? It’s any-creature’s game.”

“Mostly just have other ponies to worry about, here,” Star Point said. “And even then, it’s minor annoyances and arguments, nothing life threatening. There’s mean creatures, but they’re more inland. Over by the Everfree. Maybe sometime we can go visit those parts of Equestria. I’d bet you’d love to try all the freshwater fish in those lakes.”

“Lake?” Flowing tilted her head thoughtfully. “What’s a lake?”

Star Point blinked. He had to read her expression for a moment to ensure she wasn’t screwing with him. Nope, she really just was that sheltered.

“Well... Uh... ” Star bit his lip. It was something so obvious, so ingrained in his mind, that it was actually a little difficult to explain. “Imagine a really, really narrow passage of water. Like, usually they’re about as wide as a city street, maybe a little wider. That’s a ‘river’. And the rivers flow through the land, and sometimes when a few of them reach the same place, they empty out into one basin. We call that a ‘lake.’”

“Wait... So... There’s water on land? That doesn’t make any sense...”

“It’s... Hard to describe,” Star Point facehoofed--not at Flowing’s ignorance, but at his own ineptness at describing something so basic. “Y’know how the ocean surrounds all of the land?”

Flowing nodded. Her eyes were wide, and her focus on Star Point entirely.

“Lakes are that in reverse. A big pool of water, surrounded on all sides by land, oftentimes with a river--that’s the ‘water road’ thing, that flows all the way to the ocean.”

“Flows? I thought only the ocean could have currents?”

“Oh, they have currents. But it’s more caused by... Elevation. Water flowing down a hill, so it picks up speed... Sometimes, really really fast. You’d love it, it’s like a roller coaster. Ponies ride down them on rafts for fun.”

Flowing hummed happily to herself. “It sounds awesome. Have you been?”

“Rafting? Nah. I haven’t really left the coast much.”

“Well. I’d love to go exploring Equestria with you sometime, Star Point.”

He nuzzled her lovingly. Even with the idea of exploring the whole of Equestria, it only felt meaningful knowing he’d be doing it with Flowing by his side.

They finished their ciders in relative silence, a warm, tender contentedness in Star Point’s chest. Maybe it was the cider, but it felt so, so nice, being in love. He loved the sound of her voice, but somehow the moments spent with Flowing saying nothing, and simply being, with her, were just as heavenly.

~~~

Tempest Shadow exited the tavern and started into the streets of the grimy little fishing town.

She stopped by an old fountain, using the dirty, cold water within to wash off of her armoured hoof-shoe.

She’d forgotten the name of the town she was in. One of those puny little settlements, technically outside of the Royal Sister’s jurisdiction. Lawless places, but still largely populated by ponies, who were themselves predisposed to their own laws and comforts with or without the consequences of the Royal Guard.

Still, situations in the hinterlands of Equestria got messier than they’d ever been within the borders. Tempest had spent more time in such lawlessness than she’d ever spent outside of it. It was her life. It was what she knew. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t ‘nice’, there wasn’t going to be a ‘friendship lesson’ about it anytime soon, but there was a strange comfort in a life of lawlessness.

The Thespis, Tempest’s airship, dominated the docks. It was the most notable thing about them, and it certainly looked strange nestled in with all the fishing boats and little schooners on both sides of it. A foreigner, because that’s what it was. It was what Tempest was, too, even if she’d been born more Equestrian than some of these fisherponies probably were.

“Grubber!” Tempest called out as she trotted up to the gangplank. “Fire up the engines!”

The little... Tempest wasn’t quite sure what Grubber was, exactly, and she’d never really cared to ask. All she knew for certain was that he’d been assigned to her as an assistant, she suspected nepotism was to blame, and she really wished she could have punted him off the Thespis ages ago....

Ahem. The little thing came scrambling into view on the deck of the Thespis. “Aw, come on, Tempy! We’re not even staying the night?”

“Do not call me ‘Tempy,’” she growled. “And yes. We are leaving tonight. Sound the bell, and if the troops aren’t aboard in five minutes, we leave.”

She strode up the gangplank, the sound of her heavy armoured hoofbeats resonating through the peer. There was... What, four of them? Five? Not including Tempest and Grubber. Four other troops that were, for the most part, only around as extra muscle. Not that Tempest really needed it, but sometimes the distraction was nice.

“Where we goin’, anyway?” Grubber asked, and just before Tempest could begin to reply he struck the ship’s gong as loudly as possible, no doubt awaking half of the fishing town in the process. Tempest rolled her eyes.

“A fishing town called Herring Harbour.”

“A what?” Grubber gawked. “Another fishing town? Why? This one not slimy and smelly enough?”

“A seapony,” Tempest replied. She nodded towards the airship gondola, wordlessly commanding Grubber to follow her as she strode inside.

The Thespis’ navigation room was small, but as large as it truly needed to be. The ship itself had been built for speed and efficiency. It’d been built to be quick, silent, and efficient. The navigation room was covered on every surface with maps and charts, with the largest being relegated to a table in the middle bolted to the gondola. Auxiliary controls within the navigation room allowed for one to steer the ship from within, in the event of sub-optimal weather conditions.

“And why are we chasing some rando seapony, Tempy?” Grubber was hobbling behind her, rushing to keep up while filling his little paws with an assortment of maps and charts from the various containers surrounding the navigation room. As well as a slice of ancient, stale cake that he’d apparently been holding in the pockets of the oversized overcoat he was wearing.

“Because, idiot,” Tempest growled out. “A ‘rando seapony’ has a home. A seapony goes to that home. And do you know where that home is?”

“Uh... Equestria?”

“Ugh... I swear to...” Tempest face-hoofed, her horn sparking out irritably as she grumbled. “Seaquestria. She goes to Seaquestria.”

“Is... Isn’t that what I said?”

Tempest ignored him. She trotted to the map. Herring Harbour wasn’t close... If they were to leave soon, it would still be late morning by time they arrived. But then again, it wasn’t as though the little fishing town had any idea they would be arriving.

There was one hair in the soup, though. It was minor, given her plans, but... The town lay in Equestrian waters.

“Tempy... Hello? Tempy...?”

“What?” she whipped around, baring her teeth. “What the devil do you want?”

Grubber took a single step back. “Er... Well, first of all, grouchy pants. Second of all. Seapony. Us. Chasing. Why?”

“Seaquestria,” Tempest replied. “If we can catch a seapony, we can interrogate her for the location of Seaquestria. Which, since I know you are too much of a twerp to know yourself, is where the hippogriffs have been hiding.”

Grubber stared. He took a bite of his cake as he thought. “Sooooo, we can take em out, and steal their magic, before we move on to Equestria...”

“First intelligent thing you’ve said all night,” Tempest snorted out. “Yes. Without the hippogriffs, who would Equestria have to turn to for aid? Griffonstone?”

“But... How are you planning on catching this... This seapony?”

“That’s the best part. She’ll be swimming right into our hooves.” Tempest chuckled. “That fishing town we’re going to? She visits there, I’ve been told. Every second week. The sailors can’t shut up about her.”

A slow grin of realization slowly spread across Grubber’s cake-smeared face. “Ooooooh...”

“Mmhm. And this time, well. She’ll have a rather warm welcome when she visits.”