Chapter Text
When he first opened his eyes, all he could see was water.
Black, blue, dark green, lapping and oscillating upon his body. Completely submerged, it flowed over his head ruffling hair like fingers running through the strands. Long, hairy, slimy slim flaps of algae tickled his toes, caressing each foot gently and calmly. It was quite muddy, and though he couldn’t see very far in any direction, what he could spot were the hundreds of tiny grains of dirt riddling the liquid and making it too blurry to concentrate on anything.
Where was he?
Attempting to look into his own memories, he found nothing, a complete emptiness, as murky as the water around him. It was as if he had only started existing for a few seconds, maybe a minute - though surely he couldn’t be that young.
Fingers flexing, he experimented in movements, lifting an arm so that he could inspect his own hand. The colour was hidden by the thick water, but the shape looked unfamiliar, a part of his brain chanting wrong, wrong, wrong , yet he couldn’t think of what it was supposed to look like. Three thick digits stared back at him, an inch from his own eyes, huge and rough. Tentatively, he brushed the fingertips over his cheek, feeling the cool hardness.
It was then, that his throat began to whine in pain, lungs yearning for oxygen. Muscles seized up, as if telling him to do something, but he couldn’t tell what. Was he supposed to go up? Down? His blurred and frantic mind couldn't even tell which way was which, too disoriented to do anything but squirm underwater. In his pain and confusion, he opened his mouth, letting in a heave of water which he immediately regretted, the dense volume filling his insides rapidly.
Why wouldn’t it stop? He began choking, gagging for something he couldn't find. 'Air' , his mind supplied.
It hurt. It hurt so, so much.
Until it began to dim, turning mellow, as if his mind were disconnected from his body. The tight pain coursing from his lungs was distant, happening out of sync with his consciousness. Was he dying? He'd only just realised that he was alive.
With one last silent choke, his eyes fluttered closed, unconsciousness bringing him under her pull.
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When he came into awareness next, it was once again in unfamiliar territory.
For some few minutes, he flitted in and out of awareness, too weak to move or even open his eyes - the only thing he could do was listen. Deep, rumbling voices spoke in a conversation, though he couldn’t tell exactly how many there were. Full sentences eluded him, and he barely managed to grasp onto strings of understandable words.
“-Vendel, he was hurt, drowning...” One voice said in an almost begging tone, soft and anxious sounding.
Drowning? So that’s what had caused all the pain. He had a vague recollection of what that word meant, but couldn’t remember how he’d learnt it.
Between bouts of unconsciousness, he caught lines of a tense conversation.
“-ust lucky you got him out soon enough...could have died if you hadn’t dragged him out…”
“...I don’t recognise him...doesn’t even look like a full troll…”
The next line was exclaimed, the speaker flabbergasted and shocked. He felt cool fingers trace the area above his heart, sending shivers up his body.“...By Gorgus....what in Deya’s name is that in his chest?...”
What was wrong with his chest? He couldn’t feel anything wrong - although mind you, he couldn’t feel much of anything at that moment.
“...yes, well, let’s just hope he wakes up soon…”
Right, waking up. He should really get onto that. Yet his eyelids wouldn’t budge, remaining firmly closed. Muscles refused to move and orchestrate his limbs into a different position. Inside his mind, he shouted for release.
Unwillingly, he fell back asleep.
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The first thing he noticed was light. Golden and orange, yellow-tinted around the edges like the sun. But he was not outside.
When his vision cleared a little, it came into focus and he realised it was a glowing crystal protruding from the ceiling like a stalactite. All around it was a dull grey, the roof of the room smoothed out stone.
He flexed his fingers experimentally, feeling a soft layer of fabric beneath him, and below that, something hard. Bones slid and muscles stretched as he moved his neck side to side, rolling it around and dismantling the knots in it. With each movement of his head, he could feel a pillow, lumpy and uneven. Two pressures from the top of his head panged dull against his skull, but he was still a little too tired to figure out what they were.
An exhale of breath left his lips, and he was beyond glad that what he breathed in was air , not anymore of that wretched water. With an inhale, he took in the scents of the room - wax, earthy, warm, and of old, yellowing pages in books.
The second thing he noticed, when he twisted his head around to the side, were six wide reddish brown eyes, the whites gone a pale yellow. Blue stone surrounded them, altogether forming a wide face with a surprised expression. Huge sharp teeth jutted from navy lips, a few of them missing or chipped.
He froze up, resting on his elbows as for a few moments, they just stared at each other, neither one knowing what to do.
“Please, do not panic,” The large, stony creature said calmly, and he recognised it as one of the voices he’d heard before. Two three-fingered hands raised themselves as if to say ‘don’t worry’, and it was with a shocked realisation that he saw the creature had four arms.
He felt his eyes widen. He couldn't tell why, but his brain screamed at him instinctually, this is not right.
The huge blue being continued speaking, gesticulating as he went along a verbal journey. “My partner and I found you unconscious in a pond up on the surface a few hours ago,” He said in an almost chiding voice, as if he had chosen to drown in a pond. “You’re lucky that we got there when we did, otherwise you might not have survived.”
Now he was looking close, he could see how the being’s skin was alike to a statue’s chiselled marks vertically tracing up his rounded chin. Two sharp horns poked out from a bald head, though from around the same level as his floppy ears, blue hair flicked backwards.
“Th-thanks.” He muttered, in a quiet and groggy voice.
His apparent rescuer smiled toothily, and slapped his knees before standing up from his stool. “I’m just going to get you a drink, so you just rest for a while longer - I won’t take more than a moment!” Clumsily, he exited the small room, pushed past a faded red curtain in the doorway and disappeared from view. Clomping footsteps walked away.
Wherever he was, he didn’t recognise it.
It had no windows, which creeped him out a fair bit, despite the fact that he couldn’t figure out why it unsettled him. Like the glowing gem hanging above him, a similar one was placed on a desk, lit candles dripping wax over its surface. Bookshelves covered an entire wall, though they were only partially full, and with little knick knacks sat amongst the tomes as if hidden. A small, glistening green gem nestled between two brown books, about the size of a fist, which caught his eye as he thought it was particularly beautiful looking.
He sat up, pulling himself back so that he could lean against the headboard of the bed ( A slab of stone carved into the wall covered in soft fabrics) and surveyed the room from higher up.
The floor was almost covered by a light blue rug, woven from a thick material and sat on a floor of dark grey stone. It was worn and rustic, old but tough enough to stay together through an age. The stool, which had been pushed a few feet away from the bed, was topped with leather, and supported by wooden legs. The only thing on his other side was a smooth stone wall, a drawing of a valley chiselled into it. Smooth lines created layers of hills, and a twisting river of wavy curves.
Running his fingers over it, the sight of his own hands again made him feel a huge swell of wrongness in his stomach, as if they weren’t really his. They were blue, a light blue, and stoney, like the one who’d gone to get him a drink. Black nails, long enough to possibly be considered claws tipped the ends of each finger, though one hand had one more than the other. The dusty blue continued up his arms, and he assumed, his entire body. As far as he could tell, there was nothing wrong with his body.
Maybe it was just almost drowning in a pond that had addled his mind.
Footsteps grew closer, and he turned around just in time to see him return, a ceramic cup in one of his hands. He smiled warmly, and sat back on his stool. When he pressed the cup into the younger one’s hand, it was cool, and he noticed it filled to the brim with clear water.
“My name’s Blinkous, my boy, though you can just call me Blinky,” Blinky shuffled around where he was perched, to get comfy.
He nodded in acknowledgement, and took a little sip, not ready to have a huge gulp of water in his mouth again.
When Blinky spoke, it was in a soft voice, like one talks to a cornered small animal. “May I ask what your name is?”
He nodded, and rested the cup on his lap. Blinky's eyes watched him, only encouraging and kindness glistening in the irises. He found it hard to decide which of the six eyes he should look into.
“Uhm, yeah, sure, I’m-”
It was like his mouth had been frozen. There was something on the tip of his tongue, just waiting to be spoken-
Blinky leaned in closer, frowning. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch what you said, what was your name?”
“It’s-” I don’t remembe r “It’s-” Something beginning with a ‘J’...
Right?
Why couldn’t he remember his own name?
“I-I don’t know,” He told Blinky, voice trembling a little. The elder one gasped quietly, sitting back on the edge of his seat.
“You can’t remember?” One blue finger tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps you just need a little more time to come to your senses.” One stony brow raised, and he began firing off questions at him inquisitively.
“Can you remember where you live?”
A head shook sadly, noting the feeling of an odd weight on the back of his head.
“How old you are?”
Shake.
“Your parents?”
Shake.
“Can you not even remember why you were in the pond?”
Another shake .
With each negative answer to his questions, Blinky’s face fell even further. “Great Gronka Morka! How am I to return you to your family if even you do not know who they are?” He sighed, nostrils flaring, though he didn’t seem mad, just frustrated. “Is there anything you can remember? Anything at all?”
It took awhile for him to respond. “I-I think my name begins with a J….Maybe,” He suggested, although he wasn’t entirely sure. His shoulders slumped down in fatigue.
Blinky smiled triumphantly. “Well, that’s something at least!”
“How would you feel about being called ‘Jay’?”
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Toby looked out at the moon hanging in the sky, her white light casting glimmers over the rain-covered roof of the Lake house. He’d only visited one or two times since Jim had gone missing, not wanting to go inside without his best friend accompanying him. He was afraid it would wake up too many memories, and he’d break down on Dr Lake’s floor in a heap of tears and wails.
Even though Jim had been gone a year, no one had dared to move a single item in his room, so when Toby looked out his own window and into the one of Jim’s bedroom, he could see his friend’s cluttered desk, the Vespa poster on his wall, and pretend that he was just late from school. He could be back any minute.
When he’d first heard the news, his Nana holding him on the couch whilst he bawled, he still believed that he would be back, that someone, somewhere, would bring him back to them. Hopefully, Jim would come back in a week, he told himself.
A week turned into a month. Months turned into half a year, summer turned to fall, and eventually a year had passed with no sign of his return.
One single tear rolled down his cheek, splashing into the photo in his hands. He’d already cried enough, this past year.
In the two-dimensional printed memory, Toby was grinning like a fool into the camera, comfily squished into the sofa under a green fluffy blanket, Jim tucked up under his arm like a gangly noodle. He too, smiled, cheek pressed up against Toby’s chest. The photo was crinkled by fold lines, three hundred and sixty five days of being kept in Toby’s pocket. Written in black pen, Nana’s handwriting in the bottom right corner was the date.
8th October, Toby’s 15th Birthday
The happiest day of his life so far, with the most harrowing day falling after.
His birthday would never feel happy again, being the same night his best friend disappeared without a trace.