Cerulean Cape Washed

intelligence in those alien eyes; so blue they may have sprung from the water besides them.

atoztli watches as he rises, a shiver rending his spine. she remains motionless as he reduces the yokel from his shoulders, rolling in the sand.

but then she watches him do the most curious thing: he scoops it upwards and rocks it back along his broad shoulders.

why?

she rises then, meeting his bow and howl with a flick of her ear and lowering of her head. she studies the strange fibers around his neck; plant? tree? some bloated hide of a hidden seabeast?

what are you?