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King of the Seven Seas (EMH) Chapter 13: Shopping for Supplies (It's a Date)
🕑 Added 2025-11-30 01:57:04 +0000 UTC[Third person POV]
Arthur jumped out of the back of the pickup truck, his boots hitting the dusty pavement with a dull thud. The air was warm here, smelling faintly of salt and oil. Without missing a beat, he turned and extended a hand toward Mera. She took it, letting him steady her as she hopped down, the sunlight glinting off her crimson hair.
Mera stretched languidly, her body arching after the cramped ride. Arthur, already moving toward the front of the truck, fished into a pouch at his side and pulled out a large, gleaming pearl. Its surface caught the light in shifting waves of iridescence, almost hypnotic in its beauty.
“Here you go, boss,” Arthur said, passing it over with a small smirk. “Thanks for the lift. Don’t spend it all in one place.”
“Sure thing, mate,” the truck driver chuckled, his accent thick and friendly. “Hahaha—enjoy yourselves.” He waved them off before shifting gears and rolling away.
As the truck rattled down the road, the driver couldn’t resist looking at the pearl again. He’d thought it was just a trinket—something shiny these strangers had picked up—but as the sunlight struck it, his eyes widened. “Blimey… this can’t be real… can it?” he muttered to himself, the road stretching endlessly ahead.
Meanwhile, Mera glanced at Arthur, brow furrowed, scanning the unfamiliar town around them. “Why did you tell him to stop here?”
Arthur gestured toward a storefront with a modest display of glittering items in the window. “That shop over there buys gold and jewelry. I figured we could sell a few pearls I’ve collected and get some funds for the road.”
“Ah, yes,” Mera nodded, following his gaze. “That would certainly be useful.”
They crossed the street, their presence drawing a few curious stares—Mera’s shimmering armor and regal bearing standing out. When they stepped into the shop, a small bell chimed above the door.
“Welcome…” the jeweler said slowly, his voice trailing as his eyes flicked over their unusual attire.
Arthur chuckled, flashing an easy smile. “Sorry for the way we’re dressed. We were just at the beach, found some things that might be worth a lot, and couldn’t wait to get them checked.”
Mera arched a brow as she watched him slip effortlessly into casual conversation, his tone light and disarming. The jeweler chuckled along, visibly relaxing under Arthur’s charm. She smirked faintly to herself, recognizing the tactic but not calling him out on it, and drifted away to examine the displays. Delicate chains, polished stones, and intricate goldwork glimmered under the soft lighting.
After some back-and-forth negotiation—and a careful presentation of only a portion of the pearls so as not to raise suspicion—Arthur secured a deal worth roughly 50,000 pounds, which translated to about 67,000 U.S. dollars.
While collecting the cash, Arthur’s eyes fell on a small display case near the register. There, nestled among a row of silver and gold rings, was one with a deep ruby stone. The gem’s color was the exact shade of Mera’s hair when sunlight struck it.
The jeweler followed his gaze, then glanced toward Mera. A sly smile crept across his face. “Wouldn’t that fit her beautifully?”
Arthur sighed, tilting his head down before making a lazy circling motion with his finger, wordlessly telling the man to wrap it up.
“Pleasure doing business with you, sir,” the jeweler teased as he handed over the boxed ring along with the payment.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Arthur muttered, though there was no real heat in his voice, causing the Jeweler to laugh.
They stepped back into the warm daylight, the sounds of the bustling street washing over them.
“Where to next?” Mera asked, curiosity in her tone.
“First, we’re getting new clothes,” Arthur said, eyeing her with a faintly amused but wary smile. “We’re drawing way too much attention.”
Mera looked down at her armor with confusion. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing? This is fine Atlantean armor. Durable. Can withstand strong impact.”
Arthur gestured broadly at the passersby. “Look around you. We’re not in Atlantis, are we?”
Mera followed his gaze, noting the way people’s eyes lingered on her. She straightened her back and scoffed. “Let them stare. I’m not ashamed.”
“We’ll also need supplies for the trip,” Arthur continued. “And unless you’re planning to wear that for days on end, I’d suggest we pick up something a bit more… local.”
Mera’s lips pressed into a thin line before she gave a small nod. “Fair point. We will need supplies. Lead the way.”
…
The fitting room door creaked open, revealing Mera standing stiffly in an oversized beige trench coat that swallowed her frame from neck to ankle. She glanced at Arthur with an almost uncertain expression.
“What do you think?” she asked, tugging at the coat’s sleeves.
Arthur exchanged a silent glance with the saleslady beside him, both of them turning back to Mera in perfect sync before shaking their heads.
Mera let out a quiet sigh, muttering something under her breath as she turned on her heel and disappeared back into the fitting room.
From that point on, it became a fashion parade. Every time the door swung open, Mera emerged in something new—some outfits sleek and stylish, others baffling enough to make Arthur squint. Still, with each attempt, she seemed to grow more confident, her posture straighter, her movements more self-assured.
Eventually, she began to pose for them, striking little stances like she’d just stepped onto a runway. At one point, she came out in a short skirt paired with thigh-high socks, a cardigan draped loosely from her elbows. The saleslady gave an amused clap, Arthur joining in with a faint smile, and Mera responded with a satisfied grin before retreating again.
Moments later, she emerged holding a pair of pants out in front of her. “Can I get these in a different size?” she asked, her voice softer this time.
“Of course,” the saleslady said. “May I ask what’s wrong? I’ll need to know so I can grab the right ones.”
Mera hesitated, clearly debating whether to answer. Then, in a small, almost embarrassed tone, she mumbled, “…My butt’s too big. They don’t fit.”
Arthur brought a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh, his shoulders shaking.
Finally, the fitting room door opened again, and this time Mera stepped out in an outfit that made Arthur blink. She wore a deep red, low-cut top that perfectly framed her toned stomach—muscles shaped by years of training—paired with tight jeans and casual sneakers. Her crimson hair, now freed from its ponytail, tumbled in waves down her back. With one hand resting on her hip, she tilted her head ever so slightly and asked, “So, what do you think?”
“Wow…” Arthur and the saleslady said in unison, eyes widening.
“You are simply beautiful,” the saleslady gushed. “I’m so jealous of your figure.”
The saleslady’s smirk turned playful. “So, what do you say, boyfriend? Is this the one?”
Mera froze for half a second, caught off guard, but before she could correct the woman, Arthur gave an exaggerated double thumbs-up.
…
Outside, with their shopping bags in hand, Mera slipped on a pair of green-tinted sunglasses. In a mocking British accent, she repeated, “So what do you say, boyfriend, is this the one?” bopping her head from side to side.
“She was flirting with you,” Mera added flatly, her eyes hidden behind the shades but her tone sharp enough to make the accusation clear.
Arthur, now sporting his own pair of blue-tinted sunglasses, rolled his eyes. “No, she wasn’t. She was just trying to sell us more stuff. That’s literally her job.”
“Her job was to sell us products, not be all touchy.” Mera dropped her bags against her forearms and began running her hands all over Arthur in an overly dramatic reenactment, mimicking the saleslady’s voice. “‘Wow! That looks so good on you! You fit into it perfectly! I know the perfect pair of slacks to match that shirt!’”
Arthur burst out laughing, unable to help himself. She was too animated, too cute, for him to take the act seriously. Tilting his head toward her with a roguish grin, he teased, “You know, Mera, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were experiencing something called… jealousy~.”
“Pfft! Me? Jealous? Surely you jest,” Mera scoffed, turning her head away as though the idea itself was beneath her. “You are the future King of Atlantis. We can’t just have some common surface-dweller act all… friendly with you. You’re above her status.”
“Mmhmm,” Arthur hummed noncommittally.
“It’s true!” Mera insisted, hearing the amusement in his voice and catching the smirk tugging at his lips.
“I believe you,” Arthur said, with a smirk. The glint in his eyes, however, betrayed him.
“You clearly do not,” Mera grumbled, folding her arms and sulking just enough for Arthur’s laughter to follow them all the way down the street.
