who we are and all that we're trying to be
She seemed to lack full control of her shifts; whether this was from a youthful standpoint or power figments, and he wasn’t about to ask. Working and maneuvering along as he’d seen others do, he only glanced up when she indicated the empty containers. In the midst of silence, he dropped the bag he’d already claimed, and hastened towards the hollowed contortions, bringing them back and along the edge, so she could continue in her own renderings.
Returning to previous actions, the beast merely listened at first – since his view, knowledge, and wisdom on merfolk were poor at best, he intended to meander along the curious, scholarly route. They could walk on land, but not during the current moment? Was it a seasonal flux? A lack of composure? It sounded somewhat familiar with the way they’d all grown since coming from their own worlds – hastening to change and prosper, caught along thralls of weakness in between. More than once they’d stumbled, incapable or ineffective, laden in misfortune or lack of strength. Perhaps, with time, then. A shrug, uncertain, how they altered and morphed, when even the humans had little explanation for their new shifts, incantations, or herald summonings.
His eyes glanced briefly back to her – corresponding the name to the face for memory’s sake – before answering her question. Deimos.
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
