For MerMay 2022. A sequel to a previous story that you should read first.
On the Coastline of Aguadilla, Puerto Rico
A spray of water burst forth from the gently rolling surf, as the upper half of a mermaid appeared from beneath the waves. Her white, hooded vestments identified her as a Sea Bishop, one of the ocean goddess's chosen servants. The woman let her hood down, letting her seafoam-green hair fall loose. Using her arms to pull herself further out of the surf, she gave a contented sigh and fell upon her back. Her lower half began to shimmer, still partially submerged, and she smiled as the now-familiar tingling sensation washed over her, her fish tail slowly fading away, being replaced by a pair of slender legs.
Alana was well-practiced with shifting between her mermaid and human forms by now, her union having been officially recognized in the eyes of her goddess. What once would have left her winded and wobbling on shaky footing was now an effortless process she could complete in a few blinks of the eye. Today, though, she took her time. Placing her arms behind her head, she simply admired the azure sky, dotted by only a few wispy clouds. The air was crisp and clean, and the water was warm and pleasant. Closing her eyes, she basked in the gentle roar of the surf and the cries of seabirds far overhead...
As well as the blaring of a distant car alarm. Chuckling to herself, Alana rose from her brief meditation, walking towards a seaside cabin a short distance away.
"I'm home," Alana declared, shutting the door behind her. Glancing about her home, she received no immediate reply, so dropped off her immediate belongings on the kitchen table, when an oddity in the corner of her eye caught her attention.
A bucket was resting on the kitchen counter, filled with water.
"Seawater?" Alana recognized instantly. She puzzled it out for a moment before shrugging, heading to her husband's office. Sure enough, she heard the sounds of rapid clicking and keyboard inputs, and entered the open doorway with a smile, rapping her knuckles against the wooden frame.
"Hi," Thomas acknowledged, not taking his eyes off the PC's screen. "Just a minute."
She turned her attention to the monitor, seeing what was keeping his attention. His avatar was swinging a sword in a dark cave, fighting what seemed to be a vicious horde of slimy blobs and stinging insects.
"Still in the caves, huh?" she mused aloud.
"Mm," he barely nodded, focusing completely on dodging and dispatching the enemies.
When the last one was finally slain, he let out a sigh of relief, and paused the game.
"Sorry about that," he smiled, rising out of his chair briefly to plant a kiss on his wife's cheek. "I heard you come in, but wasn't in a place to stop."
"I know, I know," Alana reassured him. "How goes the Starfruit winery, by the by?"
"I'm up to a total of six so far," he chuckled. "It's...not been quite as productive as I was hoping."
"Told you," she giggled. "Shoulda gone with Pale Ale. Much lower startup costs. Anyway, how was work?"
"Same old, same old," he shrugged. "Had a real relic come into the hangar today, a P-38 Lightning. Didn't get to work on it myself, but it was fascinating just to see it. There's only about a dozen of those that are even operational nowadays!"
"That's an old war plane, isn't it?" Alana asked.
"Yep," Thomas nodded. "Only in the hands of air shows and museums now. Incredible service history for such a versatile aircraft."
"Have you been thinking about flying again?" Alana asked.
"Well, I can get in a cockpit again without having a trembling fit," Thomas sighed. "So I'd say that's pretty good progress. But as for if I'd trust myself to keep it together once I got in the air again...can't say for sure."
"That's good progress!" Alana smiled, leaning down to plant a kiss on his head. "It sounds like the sessions are going very well. And remember, honey, the crash wasn't that long ago in the grand scheme of things. If you don't want to fly again, that's perfectly fine. Having access to the sea and the land are enough for me, let alone the air."
"Thanks," he smiled sheepishly. "Anyway, how was Sunday service?"
"Don't call it that," Alana frowned, rolling her eyes. "You know I hate to feel preachy."
"Said the servant of a literal goddess," he laughed. "But alright. What'd you talk to the schoolkids about it?"
"Ocean sciences," Alana smiled, puffing out her chest. "Oceanography, marine biology, climate science, that sort of thing. Fostering interest and awareness, telling them a bit about my work, that sort of thing."
"You get a bunch of nasty little brats like last time?" he asked.
"Oh no, these were the sweetest little angels," Alana beamed. "Literally, actually. It was one of those upper class neighborhoods over by San Juan, I think like a third of the class was made of angels. Honestly, I feel pretty good about them. A few of them seemed really serious about pursuing this."
"Well, kids are kids," Thomas shrugged. "Most will probably forget they were interested. But, y'know...I remember when I met a pilot for the first time. Thought she was the coolest person in the whole world. A person with passion in the right place at the right time can make a real impression on people. And there's not many people more passionate about the ocean than you, beautiful."
"Flatterer," she laughed, flicking her husband on the nose before kissing him softly on the lips. "It's working, though."
"Oh yeah," Thomas blinked. "Your mother called. Wanted to talk to you later."
"Oh geez," Alana sighed. "Already? And let me guess, she was pestering with questions about when you were going to make her a grandmother."
"You know her well," Thomas shrugged, offering a smile. "Honestly, I'd love to visit again. The Pacific is a hell of a lot colder, but the underwater settlements there are unlike anything I've seen."
"Could do," Alana mused. "Let's think about that more seriously on the weekend. Oh, by the way...what's up with the bucket of saltwater on the kitchen counter?"
"Oh!" Thomas's eyes lit up as he sprang from his chair. "C'mon, let me show you. I've been working on this all month!"
The pair made their way back to the kitchen, where Thomas fetched a glass from the cabinets, scooped it into the bucket of seawater, filling it, and placing it upon the counter. Placing his hand on the glass, he dipped one finger inside the water and shut his eyes in concentration.
After a few moments, the water seemed to grow cloudy, as specks of white were gradually drawn down to the bottom of the glass and concentrated there.
"Ta-da," he smiled proudly.
"Desalination!" Alana beamed, clapping enthusiastically. "Honey, that's incredible! Remember when you could barely get a droplet to wiggle? Look how far you've come!"
