(no subject)
There is a woman sitting in a chair near the fire. She's not terribly big, and has delicate bone structure. She's got curly black hair, and big blue eyes, and truly eye burning taste in colors for clothing.
Every fifteen seconds she shakes her ankle, causing the bells on it to ring cheerfully.
She's also knitting sweaters. Three of them, at the same time, using her hands and both inner sets of handling tentacles on her arms.
The tentacles have no slime, no suckers, are not weirdly colored, and do not look grafted on. They're a perfectly normal and natural part of her body, exactly the same color and texture as her skin.
Every fifteen seconds she shakes her ankle, causing the bells on it to ring cheerfully.
She's also knitting sweaters. Three of them, at the same time, using her hands and both inner sets of handling tentacles on her arms.
The tentacles have no slime, no suckers, are not weirdly colored, and do not look grafted on. They're a perfectly normal and natural part of her body, exactly the same color and texture as her skin.