Zèklè

Hey kid, guess what?

You're gonna be a Da.

You think it over and over. You think it when you're running, or swimming, or shitting, or sleeping. You think it as you look at the water and as you stare at the sky. Occasionally you'll forgot to think about it for a moment, and then the thought will come back, and you find yourself grinning a stupid, dopey, crooked, brilliant grin.

Iso's pregnant, and you're gonna be a dad.

You rise out of the water and shake, your large, black-and-blue scaled body shedding droplets of crystal sea onto the waiting sand. You'd love to continue your dive, but you have work to do - even if being under the water is basically the coolest thing ever. Though, you think, that grin spreading back across your fish-whiskered-feline-face, nearly - being a future Da has to take the cake. That's why you're here, after all, an undersea cat stretched out on the beach, your mouth full of salvaged bits of shell. On webbed paws you pad further up the beach, stopping when you reach your growing stash. The shell that drops from your teeth is opalescent, a large shard of mother-of-pearl you carefully salvaged from the floor of the sea; there's a lot of that in the pile, among other things, and with a satisfied nod you decide this might be enough.

Time to get to work!

As always, you lose track of the world as you work, your concentration wholly focused on channeling your magic into the collection of mineral and stone. You took the idea from your undersea adventures, thinking about the creatures of the deep, the great behemoths you've seen and spoken to. You hope your child will one day meet them, and Iso too; you secretly pray your offspring will be able to swim with you beneath the sea.

But if they can't, well, maybe you can take the sea to them.

The bulk of the pair are made of sandstone, collected from the shores of the Throat. You gathered some obsidian around the rim of the veins, and that becomes the smooth topped back, flicking out into fins and a tail on one, a shell on the other. Beneath is a lining of titanium carefully collected from your side: four stocky legs secure it to the ground, allowing effective, if slow, mobility. The first has eyes of lapis lazuli, horns of spiny coral, and finally, a splashing of star-like mother of pearl across its sharky back. The second has eyes of gold from the Throat, and a mother-of-pearl inlaid shell. One is a whale shark, the other a turtle; both bear the weight of your passion, your love.

Stepping back, you exhale sharply, looking with pride on your latest creation. You yawn widely and sit on your haunches, ready to curl up for a midday nap. You've come a long way since the birth of Squishy- a long way in a lot of ways, not all of them good.

But this? These golems and your panther form and Isopia and the swiftly approaching birth of your first child? This shit, it's good



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[ Zero made two golems! One is shaped roughly like this! The other is turtle shaped!
He's also in underwater panther form! He looks a lot like this!, but with his own coloring!
All are welcome :D]
"Talk."

And in the sea that's painted black,
Creatures lurk below the deck
But you're a queen and I'm a lionheart

Zèklè

What are you?

Well, there's a familiar question. Half-lying, half-sitting, you pull yourself into an awkward semi-standing position that somehow manages to encompass all three, brilliant sunbeam eyes blinking as you stare down the inquisitive stranger, anger flashing briefly through your recently peaceful mind. Offense is preparing to dominate your emotions. Is this because of the wing...? but, oh wait, you don't have wings right now. Not even one. Dolt.

That's right- you somehow managed to forget that you're not even a horse at the moment, but the minute you do your ire shifts to an easy amusement, and you laugh, grinning toothily at the incredibly spiky stranger. "What'm I? I'm a great adventurer, jus' back from explorin' the deepest parts of the ocean!" Your voice may be deeper, but the playful inflection is still that of a boy. You wink - less charming than intended, seeing as you're still a giant sea cat, but you can't win 'em all. "I fought off sharks n' demons t' get this treasure, y'know," you conclude almost-but-not-actually gravely.

"Whaddabout you?" you demand now of the stranger, bright eyes glittering as you invite her into the game. "What're you?" What do you want to be? You stretch easily, long tail tracing lazy patterns in the sand, trying desperately to appear friendly and approachable despite your chosen form. You don't want to shift back yet- don't want her to look and see the missing wing, the growing pool of metal, the lack of height, the flaws. In this form you're powerful and capable and cool, and you like that. You take a step toward the stranger, still smiling toothily amiably, still perfectly blissful in the knowledge of your impending fatherhood.

The golems shift and stretch their legs, as though testing the limits of their semi-life. They plod behind you, moving with surprising agility for such stub-limed things; the shark, unsurprisingly, is faster. They stop as you do, staring at the stranger with inquisitive (except not, because no matter what you believe they can't think) eyes - a mirror to your own sunbeam gaze.

And in the sea that's painted black,
Creatures lurk below the deck
But you're a queen and I'm a lionheart