Their earnest expression falters minutely. Well, that's not a statement brimming with ominous foreboding or anything, is it? Nevertheless, once Rutile turns to continue their descent beneath the waves, Antarcticite truthfully has only one path left available to them, and that is forward. The alternative would be far too embarrassing, after they've made such a show of tugging off their shirt and shoes.
They steel themselves and then wade forward into the surf, which rushes around them with somewhat alarming strength. If the temperature were colder, it would be easier for them to judge how well their structure might hold up to the impact of the waves against their limbs, but already the Dreaming has stripped them of their ability to gauge their limitations in this place. For just another moment Antarcticite looks back towards the beach, but--no. What was it Padparadscha had told them shortly after their arrival? If they spend so much of their time questioning this new lease on life given to them by the universe, they'll never truthfully be able to say that they have lived it. Gems of their unique composition--and Padparadscha's--shouldn't take such an opportunity for granted.
They summon up their courage and forge ahead, trusting themselves to push past their own limitations, and follow Rutile beneath the waves--and startle as soon as they are below the surface, and surrounded by more varied marine life than they've ever witnessed before in their lives. Fish as brightly scaled as the more lustrous of the gems of their home world shoal together in the sandy shallows, while others dart out of the path of the approaching gems as though unsure of what to make of them.
"I've--never seen anything like this," they say, awed, their earlier trepidation all but forgotten.
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Their earnest expression falters minutely. Well, that's not a statement brimming with ominous foreboding or anything, is it? Nevertheless, once Rutile turns to continue their descent beneath the waves, Antarcticite truthfully has only one path left available to them, and that is forward. The alternative would be far too embarrassing, after they've made such a show of tugging off their shirt and shoes.
They steel themselves and then wade forward into the surf, which rushes around them with somewhat alarming strength. If the temperature were colder, it would be easier for them to judge how well their structure might hold up to the impact of the waves against their limbs, but already the Dreaming has stripped them of their ability to gauge their limitations in this place. For just another moment Antarcticite looks back towards the beach, but--no. What was it Padparadscha had told them shortly after their arrival? If they spend so much of their time questioning this new lease on life given to them by the universe, they'll never truthfully be able to say that they have lived it. Gems of their unique composition--and Padparadscha's--shouldn't take such an opportunity for granted.
They summon up their courage and forge ahead, trusting themselves to push past their own limitations, and follow Rutile beneath the waves--and startle as soon as they are below the surface, and surrounded by more varied marine life than they've ever witnessed before in their lives. Fish as brightly scaled as the more lustrous of the gems of their home world shoal together in the sandy shallows, while others dart out of the path of the approaching gems as though unsure of what to make of them.
"I've--never seen anything like this," they say, awed, their earlier trepidation all but forgotten.