It didn't take a ton of detective work to find out where the merman was kept. There was only one in town (or for all he knew, the world) and there was only one aquarium in Rome. Ver wasn't exactly patient, and the day after the Incident--after an unsettling, sleepless night--he threw on his guise of humanity and struck out in broad daylight toward the park.

It was always somewhat...peaceful...to go for a stroll in the full light of the sun. It was equal parts bravery, bragging, and being left alone. He didn't have to worry about his own kind turning on him for...what? Purification of the race? Because he made them nervous? Because he held their seed?

He paid for his tickets and actually took his time seeing the sights, the attractions. You slept for 100 years, you find there's a lot to see upon waking. He shared a similar intrigue toward the park’s wonders with the children around him. Although, while they watched an animatronics attraction about aqua life, he tuned out the educational information and got lost trying to figure out how everything worked behind the scenes. Later, he watched the safety video for the splash ride 8 times before a shy attendant told him he was supposed to go through the double doors and proceed onto the ride (he declined, for now). It was computer animated!

Someone needed to hook this guy up with a Toy Story DVD.
And a DVD player.
And a TV.

At last, after a leisurely morning in the outer part of the park, he let himself be ushered by bright signs and enthusiastic guides toward the merman's tank. Where a real! live! merman! .... swam around (if he felt like it, from what Ver could tell). But the humans seemed pretty damn excited.

He waited in line (some mothers threw him concerned glances--in his human shield, he wasn't quite as beautiful and enchanting--he just seemed like an unshaven dude hanging out at a kid's park by himself) and finally made it to the seating to view the tank.

For hours, Rush swam (or didn't) and dove, and essentially hung out as people do in their homes---but with a tail!--and Ver just watched, both fascinated and moved. Kids and tourists came and went, but he stayed. He though Rush must know he was there...but it was also very possible he didn't, since every ounce of Ver emitted that he was someone different now than he'd been last night. Even to the sharpest eyes (that weren't looking through water, through glass, into darkness) he looked more like a distant relative of himself. Ver got no eye contact, no acknowledgement, nothing. That was all right. He wasn't completely certain what that would have accomplished at this point. It wasn't like they could have a private conversation. He just...felt like he needed to see him today. Even at peril of being recognized, even if Rush put two and two together that he shouldn't be here at this hour. He couldn't quite explain it. It seemed worth the risk.

When he’d gotten home last night and dropped his shields in the privacy of his new residence, he still felt what he had initially blamed on the powers of the Helio: something more than curiosity, like a recognition toward Rush. This wasn’t a spell (he allowed his own censors to check) or a new hiccup of his flailing powers. And it didn’t leave even after the guy had thrown him across the bar, and left the room. It was still here, with Ver, tugging: Do I know you?

It was kind of annoying, too. Not necessarily because it was a bad feeling, but because he didn’t know what it meant, and he didn’t have the energy to afford that kind of extra nuance in his often-jumbled perspective of the world. He felt this was something that could, and should, be brought to closure—one way or another. It would really help if Rush could guess the cause. Or take blame. Or at least tell Ver if he felt the same…?

Mostly, Ver clung to a microscopic hope that just seeing the merman again would provide him some answers, or make the tugging go away. That it could be solved right now, this afternoon, without further ado. Then they’d never have to see each other again, and last night would be banished to the annals of their respective memories. However, that didn’t seem to be the case, and after awhile, as the day wore on, he rose fluidly and made his way back toward the entrance. Stopping only to corner a managerial sort by the entrance.

"Do me a favor," Ver said, stopping him with an air of authority. "Please see that the merman gets this? He'll know who it's from." He held out a note, carefully penned in the dim light of the cavern that sheltered the merman's viewing area, without further clarification. But Verite was from another time, and even such brusque requests could be issued with a kind of polite noblesse. And then he walked away. If the letter (full of the flowery language which formal notes, to his learning, should contain) never made it to Rush, he would simply have to come back.

Sir--

I'm sorry.

Though I'm sure my words carry no weight to you, I assure they are heavy with truth. I’m reminded of the sea’s seeming discrepancy of natural law--to bear such weight upon it, and much power in it, yet float great objects of mass like they were but song-notes, glide without effort to the ends of the earth, and still regather strength to press up against the sky…

I know we are strangers, and met under most unfortunate circumstances, but when I approached you last night it was with a purpose quite far from the ramifications warranted. All I ask is a few moments of your time, for a conversation on your terms. I cannot explain more in this poor medium, but I’m afraid I intend to treat this matter with some urgency until I am able to reconcile it officially. If I don't hear from you, I will come see you again. I find solace here. I hope you do, too.

You can find me at Club Bliss, or, if you’ve an understandable disinclination, you can find me at ___(private address)___.

Yours in apology,

Vérité

 

3 parts truth, 2 parts gilded, with a smattering of threat mixed in for good measure. Yes, that sounded just like Verite.