i can't help it if i want to kiss you in the rain, so
Flora shakes her head slowly, curls tangled in the sea breeze as her gaze sweeps the darkening surf. "No," she says, and there's a thread of steel running through the word. "No, it’s not."
The ease she wears like armour slips away in an instant. One hand goes to her thigh, fingers curling around the familiar hilt of a dagger. She draws it in a single motion—feather-light and gleaming gold, though the poison that coats its edge glistens darker still. Beneath the bridge, the sea stirs like something exhaling. More shapes twist in the gloom, water foaming in their wake, and then—
"Look out!" One of the creatures surges upward, leaping high enough for its slick black skin to catch the light. For a moment it’s silhouetted against the sky, a thing of sleek malevolence with void-dark eyes and too many teeth. Laughter trails in its wake, warped and warbling, and the spray of water it sends crashing down smells like brine and blood.
Flora doesn’t hesitate. Her arm snaps back, then forward; the dagger flashes through the air and buries itself deep into the delphinid’s side mid-arc, where its slick skin parts like butter around the poisoned blade. The creature lets out a warbling, warped cry as it crashes back into the waves.
She doesn’t wait to see if it floats. Already she’s reaching for the next blade. "We need to get off the bridge," she mutters to Sohalia, voice low and tight. The sea is boiling now with motion. The others are circling. And if she’s not wrong, they're hunting.
The ease she wears like armour slips away in an instant. One hand goes to her thigh, fingers curling around the familiar hilt of a dagger. She draws it in a single motion—feather-light and gleaming gold, though the poison that coats its edge glistens darker still. Beneath the bridge, the sea stirs like something exhaling. More shapes twist in the gloom, water foaming in their wake, and then—
"Look out!" One of the creatures surges upward, leaping high enough for its slick black skin to catch the light. For a moment it’s silhouetted against the sky, a thing of sleek malevolence with void-dark eyes and too many teeth. Laughter trails in its wake, warped and warbling, and the spray of water it sends crashing down smells like brine and blood.
Flora doesn’t hesitate. Her arm snaps back, then forward; the dagger flashes through the air and buries itself deep into the delphinid’s side mid-arc, where its slick skin parts like butter around the poisoned blade. The creature lets out a warbling, warped cry as it crashes back into the waves.
She doesn’t wait to see if it floats. Already she’s reaching for the next blade. "We need to get off the bridge," she mutters to Sohalia, voice low and tight. The sea is boiling now with motion. The others are circling. And if she’s not wrong, they're hunting.
