Floating serenely a couple of feet below the surface of the waves, Uleru struggles with a particularly stubborn clam. She is in her most recognizable shape today as a Human, Konti, monster hybrid, if only for the convenience of fingers as she tries to convince this fresh, baby-fingernail pink shell to give up the ghost.
Under one arm is tucked a handful of empty clam shells that came to a similar fate, and under the other is a heavy and complicated-looking brass instrument. Anyone would be able to recognize the thing as a compass, but only a more learned man or woman would be able to recognize that this thing is much older than it appears. Much older. Uleru had taken it out of her treasure trove to polish and clean the thing with fish hide and that shallow seagrass when she got distracted by the shellfish delicacies.
And had this been any other time, Uleru would have admired his accuracy. But when a massive Akalak drops from above and whips off his pants, it was nothing but idiots luck that has his size 17 foot sailing towards the Otani's face. Maybe he'd been able to avoid such a collision if Uleru had been wearing a color, and thus be visible, or if she hadn't been so distracted by a fit young blue man ripping off his lower garments.
Non the less, wether it be from distraction or lack of color, when the foot connects, her head concaves neatly around the force and she is sent spinning in the other direction, scattering a handful of shells and the heavy brass compass.
Righting herself, the moulding lets loose a thin stream of surprised bubbles which, to the men, would look oddly out of place next to empty space. What are they doing? Are they... are they sucking air through a pair of pants? What an interesting development.
And looking closer, is that the sweet actor she met a few weeks ago, Jorin? The poor man she over zealously abused for most of the afternoon? Coasting back towards the pair, she swims underneath them and comes up behind Jorins legs. And the monster looks uncharacteristically concerned as she studies his legs for the signs of human damage. Then, showing utmost care, though no forward thinking, she runs a smooth, cold hand down his shin.
Under one arm is tucked a handful of empty clam shells that came to a similar fate, and under the other is a heavy and complicated-looking brass instrument. Anyone would be able to recognize the thing as a compass, but only a more learned man or woman would be able to recognize that this thing is much older than it appears. Much older. Uleru had taken it out of her treasure trove to polish and clean the thing with fish hide and that shallow seagrass when she got distracted by the shellfish delicacies.
And had this been any other time, Uleru would have admired his accuracy. But when a massive Akalak drops from above and whips off his pants, it was nothing but idiots luck that has his size 17 foot sailing towards the Otani's face. Maybe he'd been able to avoid such a collision if Uleru had been wearing a color, and thus be visible, or if she hadn't been so distracted by a fit young blue man ripping off his lower garments.
Non the less, wether it be from distraction or lack of color, when the foot connects, her head concaves neatly around the force and she is sent spinning in the other direction, scattering a handful of shells and the heavy brass compass.
Righting herself, the moulding lets loose a thin stream of surprised bubbles which, to the men, would look oddly out of place next to empty space. What are they doing? Are they... are they sucking air through a pair of pants? What an interesting development.
And looking closer, is that the sweet actor she met a few weeks ago, Jorin? The poor man she over zealously abused for most of the afternoon? Coasting back towards the pair, she swims underneath them and comes up behind Jorins legs. And the monster looks uncharacteristically concerned as she studies his legs for the signs of human damage. Then, showing utmost care, though no forward thinking, she runs a smooth, cold hand down his shin.