Cerulean Cape we have always known how to be monsters

A subtle tremor ran down her legs that could not be helped and the small girl shuffled to the side, inching her way entirely behind the wooden trunk and tucking herself up into it, resembling a pearl amongst the dark, mossy loam of the humectant earth. From the safety of her concealment, the girl stilled her heart with several carefully controlled puffs of breath and wondered, again, if she should make her departure.

But then he spoke and his roughhewn tone somehow calmed her ragged soul; perhaps it was the way she could not only hear his words but feel them, and he bade her safety, but Kitsch didn’t know if she trusted him… but oh she wanted to! Shifting her tanglement of legs, Kitsch peeked over her downy shoulder and past their arboreal barrier to glimpse upon the man who spoke but did not move closer. 

He was a leviathan, standing amongst the tide as if he was born of the waves. Such a sight drew the naiad forth and with slow, catlike movement she crept out from the behind the tree, placing one stracciatella paw in front of the other until she was several paces away from her harborage and on complete display. Suddenly feeling quite exposed, Kitsch’s ears splayed back she dropped her belly to the sand, hunkering down and smirching her pale pelt in a light, dusting of sand in the action. From there, her imploring, watchet gaze met his and silently questioned his truthfulness.