If her nose is sharp enough, she might make out another scent. This one smells like coffee and dirt and not quite what you'd get if you combined "wet dog" with shoving an old habenero pepper up your nose.
It's not often Stitch ventures this close to the water but if the turtleducklings want to amass around the pier, than that's their perogative. Every few moments one dive for a piece of PB&J as it hits the surface.
Which is fortunate for him really. It's not like it'd take much effort to drown him. Two over sized ears fan forward, nostrils snuffling the air as the wake of something large cuts its way across the water.
The ducklings, posessing a sense of self preservation, promptly turn and make a bee-line for the shore at a truly impressive speed given their size.
Answers first. Hunting maybe later. One doesn't preclude the other.
Tamara swims to where the boy is sitting. Just the right age for a young sailor to be on his second or third voyage, to have heard old tales but not yet be cautious, just curious.
She swims closer. Oh, the boy is reading. It's a learned boy -- maybe an ensign, rather than a little common sailor.
He probably doesn't even believe in mermaids.
Tamara drifts among the rocks now. On one of the rocks, a bit away from the boy, there's one of these creatures humans keep for fun, sprawling as they do, padded paws stretched out in front. If the boy gets away, or catching him seems inadvisable, she could try her luck with that tame predator.
She leans on a rock near the boy, and sweetly says, "Hello! You're quite the learned sailor lad, aren't you?"
Elrond is walking slowly along the water's edge, listening to the sound of the water moving.
He is thinking of nothing in particular, remembering this episode and that from his childhood and youth, living close to the sea.
He is dressed in a flowing robe and his hair is trailing down his back, thick and dark. His boots are soft and make little sound. His eyes are ancient.
It's been a long time since Milliways has seen the Man in Black, although it seems only a few days to him. Still, he cannot remember ever having visited the Carribean inlet before, so he is walking along its soft white sands, enjoying the beat of the sunlight on what little skin is left uncovered by black leather or fabric.
When he sees the form cutting through the water, the wrong shape for a fish, too fast and smooth to be human, he takes a few curious steps closer, shielding his eyes with his hand against the glare of sunlight off the water. His other hand does not stray far from his sword - the Dread Pirate Roberts is always on his guard.
Somebody might, should she chance to ask the right questions.
Ah, of course. A mermaid. He has heard all the legends, but he has never seen one - she is even more beautiful than the legends say, though. He gives her a little bow - such beauty deserves courtesy, after all - and makes sure to stay a body-length away from the very edge of the water.
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It's not often Stitch ventures this close to the water but if the turtleducklings want to amass around the pier, than that's their perogative. Every few moments one dive for a piece of PB&J as it hits the surface.
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So she swims closer.
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The ducklings, posessing a sense of self preservation, promptly turn and make a bee-line for the shore at a truly impressive speed given their size.
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It was feeding the ducks. So it's no animal itself. Whatever it is.
Tamara smiles.
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Of course, it isn't wise for most redheads to stay in the sun. The sun tends to make a meal of their pale skins.
This one doesn't seem to care/to be bothered.
She's paying attention to the shape that just popped out of the water. Maybe it's the dolphin she saw earlier? No, dolphins don't have necks...
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Dolphins don't have arms.
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The arms point to human. Well, the top half of one anyway.
She stands up and shields her eyes to get a better look.
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He's done most of his chores and is reading some Jules Verne and enjoying being near so much water.
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Tamara swims to where the boy is sitting. Just the right age for a young sailor to be on his second or third voyage, to have heard old tales but not yet be cautious, just curious.
Just the right age.
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He probably doesn't even believe in mermaids.
Tamara drifts among the rocks now. On one of the rocks, a bit away from the boy, there's one of these creatures humans keep for fun, sprawling as they do, padded paws stretched out in front. If the boy gets away, or catching him seems inadvisable, she could try her luck with that tame predator.
She leans on a rock near the boy, and sweetly says, "Hello! You're quite the learned sailor lad, aren't you?"
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He is thinking of nothing in particular, remembering this episode and that from his childhood and youth, living close to the sea.
He is dressed in a flowing robe and his hair is trailing down his back, thick and dark. His boots are soft and make little sound. His eyes are ancient.
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It looks - like a young woman. Very beautiful. And naked.
He bows his head slightly in her direction. Politely.
She doesn't move the way Men do in water.
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Coming towards him.
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When he sees the form cutting through the water, the wrong shape for a fish, too fast and smooth to be human, he takes a few curious steps closer, shielding his eyes with his hand against the glare of sunlight off the water. His other hand does not stray far from his sword - the Dread Pirate Roberts is always on his guard.
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Somebody might finally provide answers instead of things going plaice-shaped.
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Ah, of course. A mermaid. He has heard all the legends, but he has never seen one - she is even more beautiful than the legends say, though. He gives her a little bow - such beauty deserves courtesy, after all - and makes sure to stay a body-length away from the very edge of the water.
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