01-12-2017, 12:08 AM
The fish that gather and dart around him are small and little more than brief flickers of color in his peripheral vision, fleeting and swift as the shafts of sunlight that breach the surf. Long strands of aquatic plants stream from in between his teeth, crisp and slimy and no good for anything but chewing up and spitting out again. Besides, they make his tongue green.
(Green is too sharp, too bitter. Eugch.)
A faintly ridged slope of darkness rises up on one side of the deep underwater valley he is swimming through snout-first, streaming hazily along its craggy edge. Lines of reddish-black and tarnished bronze occasionally shimmer in quirky rivulets, worm-like coils of soft pink grasping against the rocks like the appendages of a young squid, minus the rubbery suckers.
Lately, he has been finding large fish with their heads ripped clean off in odd places, as if someone is leaving them there for him to find. He does not mind— if some silly creature wants to leave their kill half-finished and bleeding out, he will be more than happy to dine on the scraps.
But, today he isn’t going to. While he has passed several dead, bland fish stricken with a curious stillness that signals an easy meal, they aren’t flavorful enough to make up for the loss of the kill. There is something different about chomping down on something that thrashes and struggles, something like the rollicking glory of battle as the splintering crack of bone registers along the spiny grips of his jaws.
(Mmm. He likes the fat fish that carry yellow-sweet eggs the best.)
Most of the larger fish are active during low light and dark hours, though it would not be too strange to spot a few dozen of sardine size slipping between sheer waves nearer to the surface. The ones that follow him, some worming idly along the undersides of his pebble-speckled and clawed toes this very minute, scarcely weigh more than a pound each and would only make for a nice snack if he could convince them to all crowd into his mouth at once.
(He has tried. The silvery-slim fish are unfortunately not that stupid.)
Nearer to the reef, he knows that he will have a greater chance of finding something to eat. There are droplets of inky indigo blue seeping into the water, reminding him of the sun just barely sloping into the evening across some distant plane high above, and so he turns leisurely over onto his side before pressing off towards it. His long tail grazes along the sea floor as he goes, ribbons of icy paleness creeping out from the disturbed muck.
The bottom of the ocean is cool and dark and gives way much easier than the stubbornly dry land. It is liquid silk, soft and slimy where his claws tread the underneath. Travel is fast, accomplished in a few unhurried jolts of his spine and limbs, the wide, lazy sweeps of his alligator-like tail. An amphitheater of bronze-colored rocks and coral frills opens on either side of his body as he curls back around, his legs and arms flattened briefly against his immense body to avoid scraping in uncomfortable bumps against the rocks.
Glittering and dazzling diadems of color and life jitter and swell up ahead, just above where the shallows drop off into the deep. Stones and fish scales shine as sunlight filters across them, and it does not take long for one great eye to find the broad, elliptical shape of a tuna circling about.
It darts this way and that, body as rigid as a length of driftwood the nearer it ventures toward the edge of the coral reef. The massive reptile stills, watching with a careful and ruthless precision as the unknowing fish drifts closer… closer…
Chomp! The tuna is his; coppery blood curls up around his snout and temporarily blinds him as its head squishes agreeably inside of his mouth. A sappy pop and an articulated, purely skeletal rhythm runs along the inside of his teeth, stirring his piebald tongue as he makes to swallow it whole in a few jerky gulps.
He drifts lazily in the dim light once his meal is finished, measly longfish poking nosily at his face as they seek out any scraps of the unlucky fish. They will find very little.
(Green is too sharp, too bitter. Eugch.)
A faintly ridged slope of darkness rises up on one side of the deep underwater valley he is swimming through snout-first, streaming hazily along its craggy edge. Lines of reddish-black and tarnished bronze occasionally shimmer in quirky rivulets, worm-like coils of soft pink grasping against the rocks like the appendages of a young squid, minus the rubbery suckers.
Lately, he has been finding large fish with their heads ripped clean off in odd places, as if someone is leaving them there for him to find. He does not mind— if some silly creature wants to leave their kill half-finished and bleeding out, he will be more than happy to dine on the scraps.
But, today he isn’t going to. While he has passed several dead, bland fish stricken with a curious stillness that signals an easy meal, they aren’t flavorful enough to make up for the loss of the kill. There is something different about chomping down on something that thrashes and struggles, something like the rollicking glory of battle as the splintering crack of bone registers along the spiny grips of his jaws.
(Mmm. He likes the fat fish that carry yellow-sweet eggs the best.)
Most of the larger fish are active during low light and dark hours, though it would not be too strange to spot a few dozen of sardine size slipping between sheer waves nearer to the surface. The ones that follow him, some worming idly along the undersides of his pebble-speckled and clawed toes this very minute, scarcely weigh more than a pound each and would only make for a nice snack if he could convince them to all crowd into his mouth at once.
(He has tried. The silvery-slim fish are unfortunately not that stupid.)
Nearer to the reef, he knows that he will have a greater chance of finding something to eat. There are droplets of inky indigo blue seeping into the water, reminding him of the sun just barely sloping into the evening across some distant plane high above, and so he turns leisurely over onto his side before pressing off towards it. His long tail grazes along the sea floor as he goes, ribbons of icy paleness creeping out from the disturbed muck.
The bottom of the ocean is cool and dark and gives way much easier than the stubbornly dry land. It is liquid silk, soft and slimy where his claws tread the underneath. Travel is fast, accomplished in a few unhurried jolts of his spine and limbs, the wide, lazy sweeps of his alligator-like tail. An amphitheater of bronze-colored rocks and coral frills opens on either side of his body as he curls back around, his legs and arms flattened briefly against his immense body to avoid scraping in uncomfortable bumps against the rocks.
Glittering and dazzling diadems of color and life jitter and swell up ahead, just above where the shallows drop off into the deep. Stones and fish scales shine as sunlight filters across them, and it does not take long for one great eye to find the broad, elliptical shape of a tuna circling about.
It darts this way and that, body as rigid as a length of driftwood the nearer it ventures toward the edge of the coral reef. The massive reptile stills, watching with a careful and ruthless precision as the unknowing fish drifts closer… closer…
Chomp! The tuna is his; coppery blood curls up around his snout and temporarily blinds him as its head squishes agreeably inside of his mouth. A sappy pop and an articulated, purely skeletal rhythm runs along the inside of his teeth, stirring his piebald tongue as he makes to swallow it whole in a few jerky gulps.
He drifts lazily in the dim light once his meal is finished, measly longfish poking nosily at his face as they seek out any scraps of the unlucky fish. They will find very little.
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Gamzee Makara Wrote:S’aight. After all, dogs have a tendency to motherfuckin’ bite.