08-12-2020, 12:25 PM
She comes without intent, drifting across Beqanna like a bit of spiderweb caught on the wind. There is little more to her than that, little more than skin stretched tight across bones, but Crackjaw never dies, she simply starves and strays and doesn't grow. The bones that carry her are as brittle as they are evident, and so it is lucky that when she clambered over the rocky foot of the volcano and stepped blindly into the sea that the tide was low, the sandbar just covered by an inch of sparkling blue water, or she might have simply washed away.
The tide is coming in, now, though and the thin girl cannot cross again - she does not know how to swim - but her attention is elsewhere. Here, even more than the jungles of Tephra with their grid of magma that burns her feet, fragrant, delicate flowers perfume the warm air, and, when she investigates them, she finds the soft tropical fruits growing there without season.The trees here do not know winter, they bloom and bear fruit year-round. Crackjaw, though she has been, up until now, a rather empty vessel wandering the world yet retaining none of it like a cracked vase, knows that this is a Good Place, and she settles to remain at least until being driven away.
The smell of mangos is bright and rich, and their skin is so soft that when she laps one up from the dirt like a dog and presses it against the jagged edges of her upper teeth, the flesh splits easily. Juice runs like a river from her jawless maw as she extracts what she can, until all that is remains is the pithy husk, too fibrous for her. She lets in fall with a soft noise back into the sand and moves on to the next, and the next, until her belly grumbles with the sound of too much sugar, and then she grows still, almost unnaturally still, and stares blankly out at the water, her alabaster ears twisting like antennae.
It's almost as if she's paying attention.
Crackjaw
@[Aedan] have this weird creature.