[ s ] Breakthrough (Fierce Warrior)
Posted: Tue Jun 11, 2024 1:32 pm
When he fell asleep, he didn't realize it.
His home in the Crescent Bay tribe was not quite on the beach, nestled amongst a cluster of palm trees and overshadowed by the heavy fronds that provided shelter in the rain and coolness from the blistering heat of summer. It was here that Fierce Warrior spent his evenings (the ones where he was not patrolling) and it was here that he had first met Breakwater (an unfortunate, disastrous meeting, to say the least). Here, too, he had met Fisheye and had their children, and here, too, he had raised his children.
The scent of saltwater was all around him. When he opened his eyes, he found himself below the surface, and the old panic rose, clawing at his throat, expanding inside of him so that for a few blackened seconds it was all that he knew. The heavy weight of the water over his head, the taste of sand in his mouth, the rush of the tide carrying him backwards and forwards and then backwards again; his vision blinked in and out, air constricting in his lungs so that he couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't think -
And then the panic was gone, and he was himself again.
Himself, except not. His body felt lighter than usual, without the heavy drag of his spiked tail behind him; a familiar weight, a reassuring one, but a weight nonetheless. He was so used to it that when he moved experimentally in the water, he surged forward unexpectedly fast, without anything holding him back. It took him a few seconds to realize what was happening, and even then he couldn't quite wrap his mind around it. He twisted around in looping circles that made him a little dizzy, trying to see himself, and caught a glimpse of a sleek, stunted body with short legs and a flashing tail.
A shuppy, Fierce thought, and then, have I turned into Breakwater? Motherfather, help me if I have.
He moved again, the feel of the water against his newfound body a relaxing, joyous thing that had him leaping upwards above the surface in a splash of waves that crested over him. Droplets spattered the blue-green surface and then he was below again, paddling furiously to learn how to move, still getting used to this new thing, this new place, this new body.
He felt like he could fly. Swimming was another sort of flying, except it was in the water instead of the skies, but he could move with a speed he wasn't used to, slide in and out of the waves like it was second nature. He wanted to laugh, the happiness bubbling up inside of him even as the feeling that perhaps he'd been a little too hard on Breakwater also rose, clattering in his thoughts.
Fierce pushed those notions aside with some exasperation. The last he'd seen his shuppy had been from the bottom of another hole, because the little wretch had been digging around in the sand again and leaving traps for poor, unsuspecting victims to fall prey to - namely Fierce himself, and at least two of his children. There had been a great deal of yelling, some ungraceful flailing, a few indignant squawks, and then it had all culminated in a chase across the beach, much to the annoyance of all of the members of the Crescent Bay tribe who were just trying to relax and not deal with a chaotic family ensemble.
For now, though...for now he didn't have to think about that. Fierce glided on his back, broke the surface once more, and then dived below, spiraling down as far as he could go before he twisted upwards in a graceful little arc that sent him careening over a coral bed and through a startled school of fish that scattered hastily away in case they were run over.
This was the kind of life he could get used to, perhaps.
His home in the Crescent Bay tribe was not quite on the beach, nestled amongst a cluster of palm trees and overshadowed by the heavy fronds that provided shelter in the rain and coolness from the blistering heat of summer. It was here that Fierce Warrior spent his evenings (the ones where he was not patrolling) and it was here that he had first met Breakwater (an unfortunate, disastrous meeting, to say the least). Here, too, he had met Fisheye and had their children, and here, too, he had raised his children.
The scent of saltwater was all around him. When he opened his eyes, he found himself below the surface, and the old panic rose, clawing at his throat, expanding inside of him so that for a few blackened seconds it was all that he knew. The heavy weight of the water over his head, the taste of sand in his mouth, the rush of the tide carrying him backwards and forwards and then backwards again; his vision blinked in and out, air constricting in his lungs so that he couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't think -
And then the panic was gone, and he was himself again.
Himself, except not. His body felt lighter than usual, without the heavy drag of his spiked tail behind him; a familiar weight, a reassuring one, but a weight nonetheless. He was so used to it that when he moved experimentally in the water, he surged forward unexpectedly fast, without anything holding him back. It took him a few seconds to realize what was happening, and even then he couldn't quite wrap his mind around it. He twisted around in looping circles that made him a little dizzy, trying to see himself, and caught a glimpse of a sleek, stunted body with short legs and a flashing tail.
A shuppy, Fierce thought, and then, have I turned into Breakwater? Motherfather, help me if I have.
He moved again, the feel of the water against his newfound body a relaxing, joyous thing that had him leaping upwards above the surface in a splash of waves that crested over him. Droplets spattered the blue-green surface and then he was below again, paddling furiously to learn how to move, still getting used to this new thing, this new place, this new body.
He felt like he could fly. Swimming was another sort of flying, except it was in the water instead of the skies, but he could move with a speed he wasn't used to, slide in and out of the waves like it was second nature. He wanted to laugh, the happiness bubbling up inside of him even as the feeling that perhaps he'd been a little too hard on Breakwater also rose, clattering in his thoughts.
Fierce pushed those notions aside with some exasperation. The last he'd seen his shuppy had been from the bottom of another hole, because the little wretch had been digging around in the sand again and leaving traps for poor, unsuspecting victims to fall prey to - namely Fierce himself, and at least two of his children. There had been a great deal of yelling, some ungraceful flailing, a few indignant squawks, and then it had all culminated in a chase across the beach, much to the annoyance of all of the members of the Crescent Bay tribe who were just trying to relax and not deal with a chaotic family ensemble.
For now, though...for now he didn't have to think about that. Fierce glided on his back, broke the surface once more, and then dived below, spiraling down as far as he could go before he twisted upwards in a graceful little arc that sent him careening over a coral bed and through a startled school of fish that scattered hastily away in case they were run over.
This was the kind of life he could get used to, perhaps.