who we are and all that we're trying to be
Her curiosity was an understandable thing, and perhaps his too as he watched her swim around in circles along this form. Perhaps. I am not certain. How or why he’d acquired the shift was beyond realms of pragmatic thought, often times it was much like his magic: conjured from somewhere unknown. Maybe like her current configuration – though no fear coincided along his veins from the shark movements and motions. It was something easily evaded or fended off; quick, efficient motions from long limbs, or a hastening of flight.
Or, like in the case of his history with landsharks, a swift death.
But she bore no threat, so he listened, calmly, quietly, a stoic thing on the canal edges. Brand new notions designed by Safrin herself, which made the slightest quirking of a brow, before he returned to his residual, indifferent stance. Since the Merfolk couldn’t possibly mean the buildings in Hollowed Grounds, the one ruined and dilapidated, half-painted, falling in, or newly resurrected and reborn (the Temple came to mind), he presumed she meant Torchline’s reaches. Not something he could take credit for, the monolith shrugged. Do you gain the ability to walk on land? At some point, like everyone else surged in power, in prestige?
Then, glancing along the rest of the structure, surveying what some had left behind, he maneuvered away from the fringes and boundaries of the water. Snagging several bags of sand in his mouth, jawline taut, he returned to place them along the sides, and start reinforcing.
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
