Twisted Slough You've never seen a bastard orphan [m]ore in need of a break

While she seemed to be enjoying the escapade, Tryphon was unaware it was even occurring. He knew that he felt warm, that there was a body next to him that smelled distinctly female and held the alluring scent he'd first noticed on Saghani, but that was all. He became aware, gradually, of the intense beating of his heart and his own ragged breathing; next came the intimate understanding that he was connected to her and no matter how much he struggled to move away, pull back, or push against her with his broad paws, it only hurt. They'd both be stuck together like this for some time following the coupling — and Tryphon began to panic from the lack of mobility. He was more forceful as he pushed at the ghost woman, the claws on his hind feet making staccato beats as he adjusted his weight over and over, trying not to fall or to twist, but wanting to be far from this situation. 

When finally he could remove himself, he did so as inelegantly as one might expect; the boy (for he was hardly a man in this moment, having reverted back into a childish, frightened shell) disconnected from Potema and pulled away from her, landing on all fours and stumbling back like a zombie. The same wide-eyed expression from before dominated Tryphon's features, and he stared with his mouth hanging ajar at the stranger before him. Had he been coherent enough he might have accused her of something — witchcraft maybe? A spell? Had he been a spiritual being, perhaps he would've blamed the sea itself, for the stranger resembled the white of seafoam, and it was the only power that he knew of. But instead he just.. Stared, feeling adrenaline and anxiety coursing through his skin.