Fishblight Mire ✢ Sɨnɨɨh

Her laughter faded, if only for a moment, as she watched the man rise from the water. Her gaze traced over him, slow and deliberate, a faint flicker dancing behind golden eyes. His accent was thick, unmistakable, yet not at all unpleasant; rather, it intrigued her. He was rough, unrefined, his speech fractured like weathered stone. But if his movements were slow, his mind was anything but.
„Ah, yes, the fish would surely be captivated by my beauty and charm,” she mused, rolling her shoulders with lazy elegance. A slow sweep of her tongue over her paw followed, smoothing the wayward strands that dared to defy her poise. „Though, I suspect the fish would not be the only ones distracted.” A teasing wink punctuated her words.
With effortless grace, she stretched out onto her side, lashes fluttering in feigned innocence. „Me?” A tilt of her head, the very picture of confusion. „I’ll leave that to you.” There was no world in which she would sully herself for a mere fish.
„Go on, then. Try again.” A smirk ghosted her lips as she gestured toward the water. „Perhaps I’ll help by distracting them… if that makes it any easier for you.”