Lake Rodney Sailor Song

Machi recoiled as the water splashed over him, a single eye squeezed shut while a dark rivulet carved a path through his fur, leaving a glistening trail of dove-pearl in its wake. He exhaled sharply, more from surprise than displeasure, the faintest quirk of amusement tugging at his lips.

And here I thought we were sharing a moment, he drawled, exasperated, rolling his eyes with exaggerated sarcasm as he sniffed away the last of the prickling sensation in them. The teasing edge in his tone was soft, playful—a rare glimpse of levity that perhaps thus far had gone unseen by Eset.

He rose then, his movements steady, as though testing the strength of the moment before it slipped away. Pulling himself the rest of the way to the water's edge, fully intending to mirror her poise—only to falter at the bite of the cold. For an instant, he lingered, caught between hesitation and determination, before he gave a low chuckle, a flash of mischief igniting his gaze.

Without warning, he plunged into the lake, shattering its still surface in an exuberant cascade, surfacing moments later in a dramatic burst. Water streamed from his mouth before he paddled closer, his fur now luminous under the soft sheen of rising starlight, each strand shimmering with renewed brilliance.

And who, pray tell, might that be? he asked at last, voice sly, smooth, yet trembling faintly as he adjusted to the sudden change in temperature. A crooked smile curved his lips, one brow arched. Someone dazzlingly beautiful, I trust? Surely nothing less would catch your fancy.