Kiss a lover, dance a measure
Find your name, and buried treasure
Find your name, and buried treasure
It took an insultingly short amount of time before her vision filled with the guise of the mouthbreather impostor. Like a frenchman digging snails out of their shell, so Nysa was scooped from her hiding place by the suddenly traitorous current. Neatly, carefully, disregarding the pulse of her body from subtle gray surrepticiousness to near black indignation. While quite sizeable - actually among the largest of the subspecies of octopi - her shifted scale still diminished her compared to the mer-that-was-not and Nysadeia did not like that.
Like, really did not like it. Nope. No thank you.
Tentacles writhed as the fought the current. When that didn't work, she shifted back into the half-and-half that was more or less her true form, and propelled herself straight toward the orca-shifted tide-bender. Large crimson tentacles enveloped him, sensitive in the way they encircled his body without ever actually touching, and suddenly face to face Nysa stared into eyes nearly as blue as her own. Haughty, petulant and exquisite in her enchanted perfection, she pouted at the man as her golden hair drifted in the swaying current.
"You cheated!" she accused, so effortless in her communication that it seemed she might as well be using her true voice. Her emotions crossed far less elegantly; a jumbled tangle of annoyance and indignity blended with a degree of mischief that paired with curiosity had her lingering in place, eying the marks on the man's torso with perhaps more interest than was strictly polite.
Like, really did not like it. Nope. No thank you.
Tentacles writhed as the fought the current. When that didn't work, she shifted back into the half-and-half that was more or less her true form, and propelled herself straight toward the orca-shifted tide-bender. Large crimson tentacles enveloped him, sensitive in the way they encircled his body without ever actually touching, and suddenly face to face Nysa stared into eyes nearly as blue as her own. Haughty, petulant and exquisite in her enchanted perfection, she pouted at the man as her golden hair drifted in the swaying current.
"You cheated!" she accused, so effortless in her communication that it seemed she might as well be using her true voice. Her emotions crossed far less elegantly; a jumbled tangle of annoyance and indignity blended with a degree of mischief that paired with curiosity had her lingering in place, eying the marks on the man's torso with perhaps more interest than was strictly polite.
Face your life; its pain, its pleasure
Nysadeia
