Friends for dinner, friends for Mo…
FFN Link:
https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13347415/2/Of-Broken-Words-and-Mud-Brothers
Chapter 2: Friends for Mo…?After being forced to suffer through the stinging throb of cold betrayal, was it really any surprise that Mo ended up losing all track of time?
Once the others had callously decided his fate, the rest of the meeting passed by so uneventfully for Mo that he didn't even realize that the whole thing had concluded until Orca had swum up to him, the swimmer flashing Mo a derisive grin mere inches from his face.
"Well, you heard the crowd, didn't you?" he shot apathetically, wasting no time in rubbing his victorious win in Mo's face. "Come along now, Mo. Shoo already!"
Despite wishing nothing more than to cry foul about the injustice that he had to go through, Mo idly kept silent and remained complicit. Through democracy the swimmers of the water kin had made their choice, and no matter how much he felt as though the final resolution was unwarranted and complete hogwash, he was still required to respect their decision as it had been made in the presence of the Old One.
In spite of how much he hated it.
A deluge of conflicting thoughts swirled through Mo's mind, churning around the swimmer's head in a jumbled mess much like the unpredictable fast currents in an undersea water path. His mind was constantly returning back to where Tenor had ordered the vote, the vivid flashbacks replaying the moment where he had found himself spurned by the mob over and over again.
It was a harsh, bitter reminder to Mo that his reputation was now defiled beyond any foreseeable repair.
For a long time now, there had been a very fine line between his kin mates teasing him and being outright malevolent. This meeting only accentuated just how much the other swimmers had tolerated him despite his best attempts to make amends, to the point that when given the option to kick him out of their water kin with few repercussions, they had all eloquently sided together with Orca and Kelp solely to make their point clear to him.
"Are you still physically here, perchance? Or are you already lost to the void of your own head, wallowing in denial of the cruel and harsh truth?"
Mo flinched back despite himself at Orca's words, jerking his head sideways so as to look away from those glowing amber eyes. He didn't want his cruel instigator to know that he'd hit the mark. The lesser context clues Orca could discern from his body language, the better. "Mo… okay," he finally willed himself to speak when he managed to get his quivering body under control.
"No hard feelings, Mo…" Mo heard Kelp speak in a more subdued tone… as if that alone would somehow make everything all fine and dandy again when her very words contradicted her actions.
He didn't buy the act for a single moment.
Kelp was blissfully unaware of Mo's thoughts, however, and continued to speak in a sweet tone that was laced with faux sympathy. "You really were a terrible fit for us. Nobody's happy with you around." That curt observation cut deep into Mo, but Kelp continued to speak before he could even nurse the verbal wound that her remark had opened up. "As much as we tried our hardest to change you, in the end it was but a valiant attempt, a futile undertaking. Someone like you cannot adapt to our needs and demands… so you're better off on your own."
Orca rubbed his fin against Kelp in support. Unlike her, he didn't disguise his words under a façade of pleasantness. Mo wasn't sure if he appreciated the truthful gesture or not. "Kelp's right. You're far too inept for our water kin's liking. Perhaps you'll be better off with some new friends that would better compliment your…" he paused, mulling over his choice of words before continuing on, "…
unique personality."
And therein lies the problem — try as he might, Mo did not know how to find any such friends.
If he couldn't even succeed in gaining any real friendships from the swimmers in his own water kin, swimmers who he'd interacted with ever since he was born, how could he possibly find better company out there in the unknown abyss, with swimmers who would be infinitely less patient than what he'd had to deal with at the present?
But mope and bemoan his misfortune as he may, such was his miserable fate.
Ever since many Cold Times ago, when he was but a fraction of his current size, Mo already had to deal with the cynical, mocking jeers of his contemporaries with regards to his quirky—more colorful and derogatory language would be used to describe it by his detractors at times—style of talking.
He had long since accepted it, and today's hearing was simply the clincher, a reinforcement of that grim truth.
"Orcaaaaaaaa~" Kelp sulked, whining the swimmer's elongated name in an excruciatingly high pitch. Amusingly, this caused Orca to glower at her before he repeatedly bashed his head into the nearby coral formation out of frustration. "Mo isn't replying to me at all," she continued on flippantly, ignoring her friend's blatant display of annoyance. "Think Mo's actually listening to a word I'm saying?"
An irritated Orca stopped his motions, swimming back to her side with a growl. "The answer to that is the same as whether you're listening to my body language right now."
"Hey! Orca, yo-you… jerk!" An outraged Kelp let out an indignant cry at the insult that Orca had stealthily directed at her. But before she could rant and rage, he properly answered her question.
"Forget it, Kelp. Mo's ignoring us again. I should've guessed that rubbing our win in his face is a lost cause. If that swimmer wants to remain ignorant and actively mope about in self-pity, so be it. We've done everything we can to ease him into his new reality."
The swimmer then locked eyes with Mo, shaking his head ruefully. "From now on, he's completely on his own."
Orca's proclamation did nothing to quash Mo's unease. If anything, those words now multiplied his apprehension threefold.
"Roger that!" As Kelp paddled away with a satisfied nod, Mo realized with a jolt that Orca was the only one left in the vicinity.
There was nothing but dead silence as the two swimmers proceeded to stare each other down, both of them unmoving. Only the soft gurgle of warm air bubbles frothing up to the surface could be heard, and without any louder sound to cover up the normally inaudible noise, it only ratcheted up the tension.
Eventually, Orca was the first to avert his eyes. "You're still smiling, Mo…" he noted with a scowl, vexed golden eyes boring into Mo's stubborn ones. "I was eyeing you throughout the whole meeting, and I happened to notice that you only frowned for a brief moment when you saw the water kin voting you out. But then, you just plastered a silly smile on your face and froze like a moron. Are you playing dumb and refusing to see the facts on purpose? Are you!?"
Once again, only silence could be observed from the surrounding waters. Mo didn't dignify Orca's question with a response, crossing his fins to show Orca that he refused to give an answer.
The reason why? It was elementary — because Orca had indeed hit the mark dead-on.
Mo had been belittled and put down ever since he could remember. If one were to tell him that he had been teased ever since the day that he'd been born, the swimmer would actually believe them. Ever since he could remember, he'd wound up being a target for some rather nasty words.
So how did he cope with the immense pressure of having to deal with the constant jabs and jeers?
Mo's solution was so simple that it was actually ingenious. He gradually learnt to put up with it as a constant in his life, politely disregarding any taunts that the others had for him. He would simply smile at his would-be instigators, putting on an optimistic front so as to hide his mental scars. Despite his mistreatment, the downtrodden swimmer remained staunchly unabashed, at least when he was facing down his oppressors.
Orca's current persistence in coercing a response from him was no exception. Mo proudly held his jaw up high, refusing to concede to the other swimmer.
"N-Never mind." Orca shook his head, feeling a sense of annoyance—and briefly, just a slight twinge of pity—at his obstinate rival's refusal to crack under pressure. He proceeded to turn his back on Mo for what was likely to be the last time. "Like I told Kelp, you're completely hopeless. Denial can only carry you so far!" he cautioned with a wry tone before scooting away.
Only when Mo was dead certain that Orca was gone and no one else was around to see him fall apart did he finally drop his cheery persona and let his inner frustration shine through. He furtively hid behind the coral formation, merging seamlessly with the shadows before letting out an upset cry.
Denial can only carry you so far, Orca had told him. And as much as Mo hated to admit it, the brusque swimmer was right.
The harsh, grating comments and opinions of the water kin were like a constant attrition, wearing at him like the crashing of rowdy waves from the Big Water slamming upon the sandy shore. Despite his determination to show his bullies that he was unaffected by their mean words, the stream of taunts and jabs was still able to slowly erode his resilience and mental fortitude. In spite of Mo's outwardly unperturbed demeanor, something eventually had to give from deep within him.
Being voted out by those who he had seen as friends for many seasons and Cold Times was that last straw.
Mo vigorously shook his head, rubbing his reddened eyes as he promptly made the decision to leave the premises. The upset swimmer couldn't bear to stay a moment longer at the reef where they had decided to banish him. Without looking back, he flicked his water foot around as fast as he could to propel himself away from the surface, diving deep into the depths below.
Even as he swam, he couldn't escape his thoughts. Though Mo was undoubtedly disgruntled at being outcast from the others, he suppressed the feelings of resentment and longing that took root deep within him.
Yes,
longing. Despite Orca and Kelp being the ringleaders of the constant stream of verbal torment that was directed at him, a part of the swimmer just yearned for them to stop teasing him, hoping for their approval in spite of the improbable odds.
The yearning urge and the insatiable itch to seek out the company of others — it was a primal need for practically everyone. Maintaining and upkeeping a cordial network with various like-minded dinosaurs—or what one could call their friends—to interact with and avoid the crushing despair of loneliness was quintessential.
"Is Mo really born wrong?" he dejectedly echoed out in his native tongue, lamenting as he whistled through his species' signature talk-back waves that rippled across the vast Big Water, allowing anyone within proximity who was willing to listen the chance to hear the symphony of his sordid tale.
But alas, where he was right now, fast approaching the deep and dark trenches that pervaded all throughout the Big Water, there was nary a soul around who could hear him brood, not even from afar.
"W-Why water kin choose kick Mo out?" he continued to bleat out a soliloquy, despite knowing that no one out in the dim wilderness would answer him as he was well below the warm surface where most sane creatures thrived. "Do water kin all think that Mo talk funny?!"
"I can't speak for the rest, but I for one can most certainly assure you that I do not."
Mo let out an abject cry of pure horror when he actually heard a response to his rhetorical question, whirling on the suspect as he came face-to-face with Tenor, his new leader suspended in the waters about a few paddle-lengths away with a serious expression on his visage.
Wait, scratch that.
Former leader should be the right term he used when referring to Tenor. After all, he was no longer under him, was he?
Mo shook his head imperceptibly to shake away the wayward thought. He had bigger problems to address now than the proper term of address to use. Despite his best efforts in hiding his rant from everyone, the new elder had heard everything that he just blurted out in a moment of weakness. Mo froze in terror, his eyes widening when he realized that he'd let his guard down in front of Tenor.
"Mo, please understand." Tenor swam towards the stiff Mo, gently nudging the silent swimmer with his nose. "We're not banishing you without purpose. The others do have a point. It is for the greater good…"
Once Mo saw that playing the dumb, optimistic swimmer would not work now that his cover was blown, he immediately dropped the façade and sighed miserably at Tenor.
"You follow Mo dow-w-wn here?" he prodded, jerking his long nose downwards as he asked the question.
Tenor nodded. "While others might have left immediately after I had concluded, I instead circled around the meeting place so as to keep a close ear on the situation. Not too close where I might be seen, but not too far from where my ears are unable to discern whatever is happening. And from the look of shock in your eyes, I see that I've succeeded in my endeavor," he chortled, controlling his laughing fit by placing his fin to his jaw.
Without warning, Tenor completely halted his laughter, face turning deadly serious. "But that is not the important part. The key point is that I did it to ensure that you weren't hurt too badly by our choice. But by sheer accident, in the process of checking up on you, I managed to overhear Orca sending quite a few snide remarks your way—"
"So Old One know that Orca ba-a-a-ad swimmer!" Mo interjected, before clasping his fins over his mouth and shifting his head down in apology. Tenor was an Old One, and even though by age he could barely be considered an elder, by rank he most certainly was. Interrupting them while they were speaking was very rude, and would be generally considered as bad form.
But despite his minor infraction, Mo began to have a glimmer of hope, his body vibrating excitedly. "You know what this mean? Mean Old One can make bad decision go bye-bye!" he waved his fins, jabbering excitedly. "You can reverse ruling for Mo!"
"Oh, you know I can't do that."
Tenor let out a long-suffering sigh of his own, the larger swimmer shaking his head to Mo's great despair. "I like you, I really do… but now that I'm a part of the Big Water swimmer Old Ones, I have a reputation to uphold." He scowled slightly at the thought, muttering a muffled complaint under his breath. "With my new role I now have to see the bigger picture and maintain an unbiased view. Even if Orca could have put it across in a better way, he does have a point, and unfortunately the swimmers of our water kin have used his pointers and made their choice."
Mo wasn't having any of this. "But why swimmers need listen to what Orca say!?" he asked, crestfallen. "They no fun at all!"
"Orca might have a bit of a superiority complex, but when push comes to shove, instincts always come first." Tenor gestured to the rings situated around his large eyes. "Our species are nimble, can hide our bodies among colorful plants, and have excellent eyesight… those traits play into our strengths. However, only our swift speed can save us against swimming sharpteeth. We have no other defenses besides our skin and speed, our large size a detriment when trying to maneuver away from our hungry pursuers."
Tenor lowered his voice, a hint of melancholy entering his tone. "I can see why Orca is concerned that your unusual color scheme might one day ensnare a sharptooth which we cannot evade… his statement hits close to home and stands up to scrutiny."
Although Mo knew that Tenor's observations made sense, he was too dismayed to concede and admit defeat. Orca had to have known about his dazzling color for ages, and yet he deliberately dropped the fact only at that specific timeframe for the sole purpose of fearmongering, relying on the shock value to unite everyone against him.
"Mo just want be accepted," he muttered bitterly, indirectly chiding his new leader's neutral response to Orca's aggressiveness in trying to remove him from his swimmer 'friends' at the meeting earlier. "That so hard to achieve…?"
Tenor blanched at Mo's hardened question, the normally optimistic swimmer's irate voice giving him pause. Turning pale as he slowly backed away, a contemplative expression crossed his face as he attempted to mull over the best response. It didn't take long, however, before the swimmer elder lit up like the Bright Circle, a subdued smile creeping onto his jawline.
"Perhaps your goal might be easier to achieve than you might think. How about we strike a deal, Mo?" Tenor offered, a wily glint reflecting off the irises of his shifty eyes. "If you succeed, I promise that I'll be able to convince the others to reinstate your position in
my water kin."
The emphasis on 'my' in Tenor's statement didn't go unnoticed. After all, it was a less-than-subtle reminder that this swimmer was now the one in charge. Tenor was fresh blood, assuming the reigns of a group of Big Water swimmers who had been used to taking command from a different swimmer just the day prior.
Still, Mo tried not to get his hopes up too high. After years upon years of nothing but shattered promises under the previous elder to control the bullying from his kin mates when Mo had secretly confided about his situation to Tenor's predecessor, the swimmer knew better than to mindlessly believe in the elders.
Nevertheless, Mo glanced at Tenor, intrigued. "Mo can come back to water kin? Mo interested hear about this," he began, turning his body in the direction of the elder, "What deal does O-O-O-Old One have for Mo?"
Tenor's maroon spots appeared to glow as he swam above Mo. "Once every year during the Warm Time, the Big Water will slowly but surely grow choppy." As he spoke, his voice grew dire, eyes darkening as he tilted his head up in the direction of the surface.
"Mo know that about Big Water!" Mo said, swinging his tail-cum-waterfoot about in an erratic manner. "Big Water become very rough on Mo! Rough waves always hit Mo when going up to surface. Mo not like at all!"
The elder swimmer couldn't help himself and chuckled, breaking composure for a brief instant. "As I was saying, this is because the Warm Time brings forth the Days of Rising Water."
"Mo hear about that too! It mean lots and lots of sky water!"
"You are quite right there. Sky water will pour down for the next couple of days. Very much coincidentally, it is this unique circumstance which allows for quite the unusual phenomenon…"
Mo cocked his head, befuddled until Tenor began to elaborate, the leader letting a sageful tone befitting an elder populate his voice. "Water that flows down to Big Water from the land is normally hard to swim through because the current is headed towards Big Water, so swimming upstream against the flow is quite a struggle for us swimmers. But during the big storm, the river will be flooded, reversing the flow of water and allowing swimmers like you and I to momentarily swim upwards… against the usual direction of the water currents."
He continued to nod his head, jaw agape as Tenor droned. Truth be told, however, Mo didn't have the slightest clue as to the specifics of what Tenor was blabbering about. It didn't take long before Tenor himself noticed that Mo was bored out of his mind at having to sit through his lecture. "Uh… this was what the other Old Ones told me before I stepped up, at least…" Tenor mumbled sheepishly, clearing his throat before he switched things up, jumping ahead to the more important part.
And sure enough, Mo perked right up when he realized that Tenor was now talking about his ticket back into the water kin.
"My challenge for you is to tackle a new venture which has been undertaken by no other swimmer prior. Use this opportunity and make your way up to the deepest and innermost part of land—to a place where none of our species has ever traversed before—and return back to the Big Water in one singular piece to tell your tale."
Tenor gently placed his fin to Mo's body as a show of reassurance. "Do not fret. It will be a perilous journey fraught with many difficulties and ordeals, but if you manage to prove to your contenders that you can survive a harsh journey to an unexplored realm all on your own, I think that I would have enough leverage to pull a few strings and reverse my prior decision to banish you, thus reinstating you back into our water kin with glory."
Though Tenor had painted him a very optimistic outlook of the outcome, Mo remained skeptical of his promise. "You can really do that for Mo? All Mo need do is swim up to innermost part of land?" He frowned, "But Mo not think water kin like if Mo come back."
"It matters not, Mo. If you do succeed in my challenge, you would have proven Orca's point moot," Tenor pointed out. "If you have enough perseverance to survive a trip of such magnitude, someone of my rank can fervently fight in your favor. Who can argue with hard facts when you have proven yourself a most capable swimmer, able to survive anything that the Big Water can throw at you in spite of your physical deficiency?"
Mo pursed his lips. Well, when Tenor put it so eloquently…
His offer was tempting. Sorely tempting.
To be one with the water kin once more…
In the end, the deciding factor in Mo's choice was Tenor's reassurance of re-inducting him back in. The indescribable despair he would otherwise face as he swam around the expansive Big Water by his lonesome was his only other option, and Mo would rather take a tenuous reunion with Orca and Kelp than paddle around the Big Water aimlessly, fraught with crushing pangs of loneliness never leaving his side.
The other benefits weren't as tangible or attractive to him. Winning the swimmers of his former water kin over? No matter how Tenor tried to spin things and embellish his words, Mo couldn't see that
ever happening.
He already knew that he'd lost the battle with his inner self. His distaste for Orca and Kelp, as well as the rest of the swimmers for their 'betrayal', was nothing compared to having to face the alternative of never interacting with anyone for
who knows how long. As a social swimmer who loved to make small talk with others, such a fate was the ultimate torture, a cruel torment that he couldn't envision living through for the rest of his days.
Right as Mo was on the verge of accepting, a deeply recessed memory sprung to the forefront of his mind, causing him to waver momentarily as he recounted a fateful night spent at the surface long ago…
"Such is fate, Mo! As much as you yearn to reach for it, it is unreachable! Your path will never intertwine with that of what you desire!"Mo vehemently shook his head to expel the haunting words that reverberated in his head. Before the seeds of indecision could take hold and cause him to doubt himself, he hastily propelled himself to Tenor's side and shook the leader's fin, sealing the deal lest he dithered to the point where he ended up backing out of Tenor's offer.
"Mo say yes! Mo will go up to land and come bac-c-c-ck to water kin!" he declared to Tenor, mouth vibrating as he trilled the syllable.
Tenor saluted the other swimmer with his fin before whirling around and swimming back up to shallower waters. "I trust that you will," he beamed with a glowing smile, halting his ascent midway so that he could turn his head back to Mo before bidding his farewell.
"All the best to you, Mo."
As the other swimmer disappeared, Mo felt something that he hadn't had for a long time.
Hope.
That was another lesson for him today. Never give up hope, even in one's darkest hour.
Now smiling for real, Mo headed out of the dark crevice and rocketed up to the top.
Right before he was about to break the surface, his ears twitched as he picked up multiple faint ripples coming from above.
Sky water! Mo realized as he screeched to a halt, blinking his eyes rapidly when the ripples increased in both amplitude and frequency.
Lots of it! Big Water getting lots and lots of sky water!Mo tilted his jaw upwards, seeing that the entirety of the Big Water had darkened, even though he had ascended to near the surface, an area that was supposed to be brighter since the rays of the Bright Circle were supposed to illuminate the shallow water.
Unless the Bright Circle was missing in action, that was…
Now acutely aware of the sky water, he carefully broke the surface, popping his head out to make a quick visual scan. Taking in a deep breath and observing his surroundings, Mo could already feel the sky water pouring onto his upper body, drenching it with liquid even as he bobbed out of the Big Water.
With dawning comprehension, Mo felt the rough waves pounding onto him and concluded that the torrential amounts of sky water that were falling from above must have caused the tide to rise by increasing the capacity of the Big Water.
Just like Tenor say! When sky water fall, Big Water mo-o-r-re water. It start flooding! Means Mo can swim up and reach land!
Now, Mo just need find lan-n-nd!With a trusty plan by his fin, Mo quickly made haste, scanning his eyes along the horizon in pursuit of the land that would be his salvation. As arduous and daunting his journey was, he had to accomplish his mission. He had to succeed.
Squinting his eyes, Mo scanned the horizon for any telltale signs of land, soon finding himself being rewarded when he spied a speck of gray standing out against the murky color that permeated the water surface.
Things were certainly looking up. Mo grinned, smile stretching from ear to ear. At the rate that he was going, he'd be reinstated back within the water kin in no time at all.
As he strode towards the unnatural object that seemed to be floating on the surface, Mo couldn't help but notice something weird about it.
Why land mo-o-v-ving? Mo was utterly confounded by what he was witnessing. Although he was a creature who lived under the depths, he wasn't completely blind to the world around him. Even a swimmer like him knew from his few scant visits to the shore that landmass was not supposed to move.
Come to think of it, the piece of gray land that he saw seemed smaller than what he'd expected. At such a close proximity to him, wasn't land supposed to stretch across at least half of the horizon from the front of his eyes?
Only when he continued to flounder towards the mysterious object did his astounding mistake come to light.
Mo gasped in terror, screeching to a halt as hard as he could. Gray slits narrowed from the lumbering giant that Mo had been swimming towards.
What he'd laid eyes on was
not land. Not even close.
In actuality, what he had been approaching was a
swimming sharptooth.
The enormous predator had been virtually invisible, its key defining features masked by the extreme amounts of sky water until it was nothing more than a blurry haze from the distance. The wall of falling droplets obscured Mo's visibility to the point where the colorful swimmer had found himself being so close to the sharptooth just to make it out that the sharptooth could probably sniff Mo out in return.
And did that it did. The creature raised its monstrous jaws up, sniffing tentatively as it caught a tantalizing whiff of the tasty morsel that would soon be its dinner.
That was yet another harsh reminder of the lesson that he'd learned at the meeting earlier — even when the unpredictable beast that was life relented, never let your guard down.
Mo let his jaw go agape, swallowing a gulpful of salty water before turning tail and fleeing for dear life. Mere moments later, the sharptooth began its pursuit with a mighty bellow.
Fortune was a fickle one indeed. One never knows just what could be teeming right around the corner…
Author's Note:Orca might be a stereotypical bully character, but he's also no fool. His concerns are perfectly valid and in line with what his cohorts want. With Tenor hesitant to simply allow Mo back into his water kin despite being aware of the hidden conspiracy to get rid of Mo, our cheery swimmer must now make his way up to land to prove his worth… after dealing with one terrifying sharptooth, that is.
Man, Mo's style of speech is seriously hard to nail down. He speaks like Petrie for the most part, but has additional vocal trills and a major aversion to long sentences. A tricky combination indeed…
As many have noted, what Mo is going through and how he's being portrayed in this story is rather different from his usual carefree depiction in canon.
Others have commented on this, but I must say that I definitely would have released this fic as a long oneshot if the deadline for the June 2019 prompt wasn't looming around the corner. I always go for quality first and foremost, so proofreading everything in one chunk would have likely burst the deadline. Splitting into chapters also allows me the flexibility to go more in-depth with scenes and descriptions, so now I suspect that the final word count will be closer to 25K-30K words.
…
Sovereign: I am glad to hear that you think the herd isn't one-dimensional. I'd tried to write Orca with a more realistic take — while he primarily takes issue with Mo's speech and personality, a secondary concern revolves around his own—and the water kin's—safety around Mo. People aren't usually spiteful to others without some underlying reason, even if it is pettiness which drives them.
Anagnos: Mo might seem like an unorthodox choice for a main character, but I am someone who revels in treading new ground, writing concepts and scenarios that others haven't touched upon yet. It is not just the focus on Mo that is a rarity, but also his personality due to what he's currently going through. In fact, you might find yourself surprised by his thought process and actions in this fic…
Rhombus: On your comment about being able to see a different perspective to Mo's interactions with the gang, there is one specific scene in LBT9—that I'll highlight in due time—which inspired this unusual outlook for Mo to begin with. And for what it's worth, you are completely right in your other prediction, as the split into chapters has managed to provide me with adequately spaced breakpoints that make for great cliffhangers.
…
In the next one, how will Mo outwit the nasty swimming sharptooth that's hot on his tail?