Chryseis laughs and Yidhra smiles, in her own way, the beak beneath the mass chattering and chirping: the sound of the chitinous plates muffled by the tendrils on the end of her face. Still she watches her step back, and notices the way the girl sways and moves: how graceful she is even in sickness. Yet Yidhra feels it too, she is not absent the effects and while hairless: her skin is laden with heat and feverish shuddering at times, and while she watches Chryseis’ nose spattered in blood-the jettison of her sneeze… the Kraken tastes her blood on the radula of her tongue.
“Reall? I could tell you a story,” she comments in the aftermath: waiting a moment before slowly drawing her arm-tentacles back and folding them across her chest. “It is something very familiar to me, something that many are aware of; but little know about truly.” shrugging at the notion of it, Yidhra clears her throat.
“Beneath the surface of the water, you can often find the glittering shallows where sunlight brightens the great coral gardens and beds of anemone and fish. The stretch for a time and here and there you’ll see silvery dolphins, and shoals of all different colored life: perhaps even catch a glimpse the tiny insect-like creatures wandering to and fro: the stars that move and are alive.”
Pausing and idle, she drifts and fades: feels the world around her rippling and tangible it ways it should not be; but Chryseis demands her attention and she focuses on the girl: watches and takes note of her- idly studying and contemplating the reality of this child. “Beyond this is a great ridge, where the water becomes black and impossible thick: so cold that only a few creatures can travel these depths. There slumber giant beasts whose teeth are sharp and dangerous- whose tentacles, like my own, reach out and grasp things that swim. Leviathans and krakens, and great sharks: strange songs they all sing, and there is something more.”
Looking to the side she reaches a tentacle out and grasps a flower: bending and plying it from the brush before placing it on Chryseis’ mane: twining it in. “Tentacles and hairless flesh, bodies impossible to imagine: shapes you have never seen nor dreamed of; but it was one of these creatures who slept for quite a long time and then awoke one day to find that all around them the world had changed. It sighed and longed for company, but found nothing: and so it slithered about in search of others; but the Kraken would not befriend it- nor the Leviathan, or the shark. All ran and fled from it, afraid that it would eat them.”
Crossing her tentacles once more she shook her head slowly and tenderly. “So it came to the shallows, hoping to find a friend: and all the beasts fled too… and in despair it brought itself onto the beach and cried out: will no one be my friend? There it met a girl- fearless and mighty, and she answered- she would be its friend. They played, and played- and when night came the creature watched the girl leave to go slumber. It begged the moon to give it a shape to be better suited for the world- it begged every star and every rock, and every tree: it cried and wailed.”
She pauses to breathe.
“And then from the darkness the shadows between the stars answered: it would give her shape, and she became like the girl- thus they were unite again, playing and free. Not a very good story, I know.” she’d have grinned by she cannot, and instead she lingers- thinking of the end: of the tale, and the truth.
Yidhra
@[Chryseis]