K O A
and they will shake their heads
and wag their bony fingers
and wag their bony fingers
So this is different.
Koa has never been one to turn down a challenge - but he's also never faced a challenge quite like this. His first stint to the Underwater City is as wonderful and startling as he may have expected, the young Dragoon struggling mightily to avoid being distracted by the endless array of colors and sights. It's dizzying, navigation made even more difficult by the fact that he cannot actually speak to Hadama. All of the questions the soldier would love to ask remain cramped inside him, occasionally erupting in inaudible exclamations of bubbles and frantic pointing.
He also looks ridiculous in his mask and makeshift wetsuit, dark hair flowing in defiance of gravity as the currents tousle it around. Flippers finish off the ensemble: impractical for walking in, perhaps, but there's no way he could keep up without them. And even so, it's hard.
At last Hadama stops, and while the King cannot use words to explain their destination, they really aren't needed. As a soldier, Koa lives and breathes training grounds: even underwater he can easily recognize such a place. He raises his eyes to the mermanta's, eyebrows rising behind his mask. Briefly he ponders the available weaponry, settling ultimately on a pair of steel knuckles and a length of rope, which he wraps loosely around his wrist, one end clamped in his right hand.
Swimming back to Hadama, the young man waits for a signal of readiness before launching into an incredibly awkward attack. Kicking off the ocean's floor, Koa glides toward Hadama in somewhat slow motion, the length of rope extended between his hands. He's planning to try and capture the trident with it, but given that he's moving at the speed of a tortoise stuck in molasses it's really anyone's guess as to how well this will go.
Koa has never been one to turn down a challenge - but he's also never faced a challenge quite like this. His first stint to the Underwater City is as wonderful and startling as he may have expected, the young Dragoon struggling mightily to avoid being distracted by the endless array of colors and sights. It's dizzying, navigation made even more difficult by the fact that he cannot actually speak to Hadama. All of the questions the soldier would love to ask remain cramped inside him, occasionally erupting in inaudible exclamations of bubbles and frantic pointing.
He also looks ridiculous in his mask and makeshift wetsuit, dark hair flowing in defiance of gravity as the currents tousle it around. Flippers finish off the ensemble: impractical for walking in, perhaps, but there's no way he could keep up without them. And even so, it's hard.
At last Hadama stops, and while the King cannot use words to explain their destination, they really aren't needed. As a soldier, Koa lives and breathes training grounds: even underwater he can easily recognize such a place. He raises his eyes to the mermanta's, eyebrows rising behind his mask. Briefly he ponders the available weaponry, settling ultimately on a pair of steel knuckles and a length of rope, which he wraps loosely around his wrist, one end clamped in his right hand.
Swimming back to Hadama, the young man waits for a signal of readiness before launching into an incredibly awkward attack. Kicking off the ocean's floor, Koa glides toward Hadama in somewhat slow motion, the length of rope extended between his hands. He's planning to try and capture the trident with it, but given that he's moving at the speed of a tortoise stuck in molasses it's really anyone's guess as to how well this will go.
in all the wrong directions—
and by daybreak we'll be gone
and by daybreak we'll be gone
