The Sentinels When the tequila runs out

Although the kiss comforted her on one level, the press of lips reminded Sharkbait of the earlier impact of her skull with the low bark ceiling. It ached tenderly but she ignored it, drawing comfort from Deirdre even if the storms both inside and outside her quivering golden body left her feeling wrung out and disoriented. She drew in a long, shuddering breath when instructed to do so, both the command itself and its execution soothing her somewhat. Slowly, she drew away to look into Deirdre's pale face, tears streaking her own fair cheeks.

"I don't..." she said yet again, then shook her head lightly. She stopped that almost immediately, as it gave her a headache. "I was on a beach," Sharkbait recollected the first thing she could remember, which was very little. "Daddy and Amayo helped me." Her bottom lip quivered. That title ("daddy") felt wronger every day, even if the Leviathan and Atoll took care of her. "But," she continued, tears wobbling on her eyelids before falling, "it's wrong. I don't want to bathe in blood. I don't want to feed the sharks."

Unaware of how insane that might sound, Sharkbait began crying harder again and this time mashed her face into the side of Deidre's swan-like neck. She clearly didn't know herself, yet this young woman did know her. Perhaps she could remind her of herself somehow. Best friend, the crying youth thought dimly in the back of her mind, a foreleg coming up to circle one of the other female's elbows as Sharkbait clung to Deirdre.

Yet another boom of thunder wracked the stormy air. This time, it not only caused the Benthos's stomach muscles to jump in alarm, it made her head suddenly start pounding fiercely. Or perhaps it was just the crying. Or the earlier bump. Whatever the cause, a small wail escaped her lips as more of Sharkbait's weight leaned into her companion.