fandomtownies | The Beach; Saturday Evening [06/22].

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The Beach; Saturday Evening [06/22].

Strange things indeed were lurking far below the waves in the water surrounding Fandom. Horrible things, terrible things, frightening things...and one of those things was formerly a Zora prince.

Increased in size significantly more than usual, with muscles bulging in ways that made little logical sense, having become ever more the shark in nature than Zora, and...something else...something else, but never somethihng quite right, almost, but never quite right, the only thing that seemed vast enough to contain him anymore was the water, and the depths, and that something calling to him, deep below the waves, deep, deep, deep below, even further than Sidon himself could go, though he tried, oh how he tried, but it was never enough, he was never worthy, but he would be, he would prove it, and he was starting out by contending against these other creatures laying claim to the sea that should be his, his, all his, all to him, in the name of whatever it was deep, deep below...calling...calling....

...always calling...

He was unworthy, he couldn't go deep enough, and there were all these others. He fought with them, and, although he was smaller, he was faster, more viscious, with terrible claws and teeth and no lack of mercy. They got him good, but he got them better, and with mighty strength, he tossed them from the sea, onto the land, leaping effortlessly out of the water, where he could have the best of them, tearing in and feasting, master of sea and land, but he'd have to go back, because it kept calling to him. He had to go deeper...deeper...

...always deeper, into the black abyss of the sea.

But for now, he was tearing into the horrific creature of tentacles and fins and human faces nearly twice his size, another battle won, ripping in with teeth and claws to satiate the hunger for just a moment's respite, and then back again, to claim his power over another.

...calling...always calling...

[[ i guess my boyos needs to go bump in the night this weekend. Open beach is open! ]]

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Vette was not a creature of the water. Not by any stretch of the imagination, really. Even before the change, she'd been made for a world of harsh weather, rock and caves, a surface that was prone to storms of fire itself. The only things that could survive the surface of that world were creatures that, much like Vette herself now, were all strange angles and tentacles, teeth and hunger.

She'd fed already today, yes. Tore apart something that had at one point possibly been an alot of something, though after its own change it could hardly even be considered an alot of meat, mostly just height and desiccated, bony limbs. She'd gnawed on it until she'd tired of that and decided to move on.

Movement on the beach caught her eye and she peered out from the treeline to watch the Other One tearing into his own prey, considering, as much as she could consider anything, whether either would be worth her time.

Both seemed to have no small amount of meat.

Both would be a very satisfying prize.

Tentacles falling down over her body like some sort of living, slithering cloak, she fell down close to the ground and crept closer.

Edited 2019-06-23 00:15 (UTC)

Sidon pulled his head back, the flesh and muscle caught between his several rows of teeth stretching with it until it separated with a satisfying snap. Tilting his head back even further...and further...and further....he made it seem like a good question to ask what all those teeth were even for if he was just going to gulp the large morsel down like that without even bothering to chew.

Then he went to reach in further, to sort through the shell of the beast for all the best parts, but he stopped. He stiffened, blinking black eyes that hard trouble adjusting when out beyond the faint glow of the water's surface. He thought maybe...the spikes lining his elongated headtail before it split rose up in defense, as did the ones along his shoulders, his arms, as his back and shoulder muscles seemed to bulge and shift around in ways to make him a little bit bigger still.

If there was anything else out there...his teeth glistened in a sharp, eager grin. So many sacrifices he'd made from the sea to the land. Maybe it was time he made one from the land to the sea.

He would have to catch her, first, and if there was one thing Vette had demonstrated ~~thanks to EVERY RNG EVER~~ this week, it was that she had speed and agility on her side. She watched with interest from the biting, bladed grass as the living one's dark eyes searched for her, and then broke into a grin of her own to match his.

Oh, even if he didn't prove to be good meat, at least this one would be good sport.

She considered, momentarily, seeing just how close to him she could creep, but he'd already scented her, or at least realized that she was out there. There seemed to be little practical point. But if she could at least creep around to him, get close enough to reach out with one of her tentacles, to wrap around his leg...

Well. She did enjoy a challenge.

She crouched down a little lower, and then, still grinning with a mouth more razorblades than teeth, she crept closer, through the grass.

Slithered, really.

Sidon blinked again, something sliding over his eyes, blinked again, and it was enough. There. A ripple in the grass, like a ripple in wave, though it could have been the wind. Could have been the grass itself. He hoped not. He crouched down then, and moved, in a jittering, awkward scurry around the mountain of flesh and bone and scales, and then up it, for higher ground, for a better view, on all fours now and lengthening his body, lifting his haunches, as his strong and powerful tail whipped with anticipation behind him. His claws dug in deep to his makeshift mountain. It made a sound to suggest it might still be alive.

And there he waited. Watching. Trying to find just where the other one was and determine just when to pounce.

If it didn't pounce first. But spines and spikes and fins trembling, he was ready for that, as well.

Vette's own tail was still behind her as the rest of her froze in place, waited in silence for the other one's eyes to pass beyond her, then reached, ever so carefully, with one of the many tendrils trailing back from her head, winding through the grass off well to her right. Rustled it there, a stone's throw from her own body mass, eyes glinting in anticipation as she moved that tentacle around like a wounded animal.

Like easy prey.

Here, fishie fishie...

Fishie fishie's grin grew, jaw slowly jutting forward as if trying to let all those teeth to the forefront at once.

Fishie fishie totally fell for the bait, leaping off the mount of beast for something more thrilling, more exciting, more alive, for that rustle in the grass, all claws and teeth and spikes and too much muscle in all the wrong places.

Ever meet an anglerfish, Fishie fishie? Because you'd just fallen for this one's lure, and Vette would be happy to sacrifice the well-being of one tentacle in order to lure in large, meaty prey. She let fishie fishie tackle that tentacle, writhing around underneath him, and then gave a screech like a wildcat made of broken glass and lashed out with the rest of her tentacles at once, reaching for him, aiming to wrap around him until there wasn't any more of him to wrap.

Not technically possible, not given the sheer size difference between them, but Vette was nothing if not ambitious, even now.

The swell of disappointment that the rustle in the grass would turn out to be such a meager thing was significant, but Sidon intended to make the most out of destroying what he did find without mercy, with alacrity, and with the hope that it...was attached to something mo--

That was when the screech hit him, with just enough time to turn his head to the approaching surge of tentacles.

Now this was more like it! Sidon pushed up from the ground to lunge forward to meet those tentacles. He reached out with the intention to get his hand wrapped around at least one that might not wrap itself around him instead; he'd worry about those later. For now, it was a matter of the fact that a tentacle was more than likely attached to something and if he pulled that something closer, he could get to the source of this new skirmish.

She let him grab that tentacle, yes. There were plenty more to spare, and if he intended to pull her closer, Vette would hardly complain. Closer meant within range of her own claws and teeth, meant that she could coil herself around him like a spider wrapping web around her prey. Her tentacles all flared out at once, enough to show her face, her arms and legs splayed outward as she threw herself bodily into that pull, still screaming.

Was she going for the face?

You bet she was going for the face.

Oh, the face filled with teeth? Sidon opened his mouth, partly to roar back, a strange, deep, rumbling gurgle of a sound, and partly to introduce this tiny fiend to exactly what she'd be dealing with if the face was her target.

Because he was pretty sure he could practically bite that tiny head of her off in one snap.

He certainly intended to snap off whatever did come close to his face, though, and now that he got a good idea of her size (much smaller than nearly everything he'd been up against so far!), he didn't worry much about the tentacles for now. He coulld simply throw himself down and crush her under his very weight! Not as satisfying as biting, ripping, tearing into someting, but a good crunching of bone was never bad, either!

Hmm. Being crushed or bitten in two really didn't seem like the best of plans in hindsight, now, did it? Vette did get close enough to let herself hiss right back, and then pulled hard with the tentacles on her left side, the ones that had wrapped themselves around his shoulder, changing her trajectory just slightly, just enough that she got her feet planted on that shoulder and perched herself there with relative ease.

There was a lot of muscle there, and the thought of it made her mouth water a little, and claws dug in lightly to help her keep her grip.

Hello there, Fishie fishie. The look on her face now couldn't really be described as 'playful,' per se. But it was probably about as close to playful as a face like Vette's had become could get.

A lot of muscle, and it seemed to shift and move underneath his skin, like waves of ocean, even with the little tentacled bird perched there.

Hello, there, little tentacled bird. And... goodbye! Because those muscles were going to be flexing now, with a growl that built into a screeching roar, lifting his arms up to try and push off the tentacles. He turned his head sharply, flicking the long trendrils of his split head tail her way to try to knock her off...even if she did have her claws in pretty good.

The multiple bites and scratches, gouges and wounds scattered all over him made it fairly clear that it wouldn't be anything new, really...

That roar was met with a trilling sound, a chirp, really, as those tendrils came swinging her way. They succeeded in making her release her grip with her claws, but, not wanting to go for a tumble, her tentacles reached up and wrapped around those headtails, instead.

Some part of her deep down would have been vaguely amused by that split, might have made some comment about lekku, if only to mask her horror that it had happened at all.

That part of her was little more than a whisper. Vette, here and now, was trying to get a firm grip, heedless of the spines that she had to contend with along the way, so that she could attach herself to the back of Fishie fishie's head, twittering to herself all the while.

It would have sounded cheerful, if it didn't mostly sound like the dying screams of wounded bluebirds.

Persistent birdie, wasn't she? This had to have been what the larger beasts of the sea had felt like when they had to contend with Sidon darting around them and using their size to his advantage: irritated, enraged, but with the sharp heat of excitement racing through him. With the birdie still attached, clinging, twittering incessantly, Sidon threw his head back. He pitched it forward. Started whipping it from side to side among gnashing teeth and growls, trying to dislodge her with movements far faster and with more unnatural angles and sharpness than what entirely made sense.

One of the fishie fishie's spines pierced one of the birdie's legs, and she met it with a snarl. Another ripped into her ribs as she hunkered down closer, being tossed and buffeted about. She wrapped a tentacle around his face, aware that it was far too close to that mouth of his, but willing to risk it in order to keep her grip. She was scrabbling now, trying to get purchase on what once were Sidon's headfins, wrapping another tentacle still around his neck. Had to hold on. Had to. Being thrown would end badly for her unless she landed just right...

This fishie fishie was far, far more challenging than the alots had been. She appreciated that. Some part of her respected that.

The challenge would be surviving it.

That tentacle was rather close to that mouth of his, true, but it had wrapped itself there rather quickly and in a way that didn't afford many opportunities to really sink his teeth in the way Sidon would have liked. Though that didn't stop him from trying, making snarling little nips as he tried to turn his head to better effect...which naturally just lead to it being easier for that other tentacle to find its way around his neck.

Which was...not entirely an ideal situation to be in, no. And, if her grip on his head was any indication thus far, this new hold was not likely something he could simply scratch his way out of.

He would still try, of course, as well as squirming to try and reach back behind him to get a hold of this intrusion with the hopes to just throw her off, but the attempts didn't get too far before another thought struck him.

Perhaps the persistent little birdie wanted to go for a swim. There were far more interesting things awaiting in the deep than here on the land, anyway. Surely, she would want to see them for herself!

With that thought, he stopped the struggle; he hoped she would use the pause to tighten her grip. Because a second later, he was dropping down onto all fours, loping across the sand toward the shore as fast as his limbs, moving in ways they were never designed to move, could carry them both, with a new focus and determination and desire.

It was calling. It needed more.

Vette's victorious trilling sound at the opportunity to tighten her grip changed to a shriek of protest in short order. Wait, wait, they were headed toward the water? She heard the calling too, naturally, but she was not made for water! That shriek grew in intensity as they splashed into the water, and her grip grew even more tight, claws grabbing at whatever part of his head she could reach.

No no no no no No NO.

She wanted to follow the call, but drowning before ever getting there would be rather counter to the point. Desperately, she tried to pull his head to the side, wrapped a tentacle over his eyes. Could he find where they were going even without his sight?

So. Persistent little birdie didn't like the water so much, now, did she? A creaking, almost dolphin-like sound clicked from his throat, like a laugh, like a chuckle, but not quite there, edged with something...else, completely devoid of any real humor, a pale imitation of amusement.

And that shift in her chirping...delectable.

And while he certainly didn't need to see where he was going--Sidon could sense it, could feel it, always--deeper, deeper, deeeeeper still, never deep enough, never never never--the jerk of his head and the tentacle over his eyes all of a sudden was...discombobulating. The natural urge to surface took over, though he struggled as he fought with himself over it, wanting to go deeper, but he was ruled by a stronger instinct, and the two of them broke the glowing surface of the water.

And he couldn't see, but he could feel that the dive in had been no small jump, and his spines and spikes seemed to quiver and shudder with the simple satisfaction that, if anything, he'd effectively trapped her there, a good distance from the shore, with the only thing keeping her afloat was the very thing she sought to destroy.

Unless this little birdie decided to suddenly prove to have wings as well...

Sadly, there were no wings to be seen. Vette hadn't been that lucky. A tail, tentacles, teeth and claws seemed to be about the all of it. And as they broke the water's surface again, she coughed, gasped, tried desperately to find her breath again, shuddering and quivering and clinging desperately.

She wasn't going to let go for anything, but it left them at a bit of a stalemate, didn't it.

Frustrated and shuddering, she growled down at him, making very certain to keep that tentacle over his eyes. If that was all that was keeping them above the water's surface, she wasn't about to stop now, no.

Hardly a true stalemate, really, when all Sidon had to do was just dip right back under the water and focus on down, focus on deep, and he'd have the better of her. But what was the fun, where was the thrill in that? Especially when she'd proven to be so...feisty so far, that seemed like a...terrible waste.

Of course, that wasn't going to stop him from occasionally perhaps dipping down a little to remind her that that was all it took, even with his eyes, his mouth, his neck at the mercy of those tight tentacles. And when he wasn't doing that, he...well, in a way, he was pacing, irritably swimming back and forth, sometimes in little circles, tail and headtails and fins twitching, plotting the most interesting way to try and dislodge her while feeling incredibly restless, incredibly confined, with her wrapped around him like that.

And with her wrapped around him like that, he could hardly see the thing approaching from the distance, cutting through the water, drawn in to find out what all the sudden commotion in the ocean was all about...

Another dip, another snarl, and Vette had only just stopped sputtering when she noticed the thing approaching them.

She froze. Went shock-still and tightened her grip just that tiny bit more, tail the only part of her that dared move, thrashing behind her as though it belonged to an angry cat. She shifted her weight a little, hunkered down close to fishie fishie's head, and gave a low growl.

And then, with a soft hiss, she uncovered his eyes, so that he could see, too.

Like it or not, if he died out here, so did she.

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The Beach; Saturday Evening [06/22].

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