A wicked cackle escapes Flotsam as he watches you cling to his slippery body desperately, a strain of boisterous profanity never ceasing to fill the air amidst questions that are phrased more like death threats than anything else. You choke on another mouthful of water when Flotsam picks up speed."Ursul couldn't turn you into something a little more useful? Like a big, fat whale?" You gripe. Beneath the surface you can feel your—a violent shudder—legs kicking about pathetically, though you strain to not even consider them. (It may have been your imagination combined with sheer panicking rage, but it seems like Flotsam just sent a subtle electrical current down his body. In other words, he shocked you in response to your comment. If he wasn't keeping you afloat, you'd heavily consider gutting him.)
"The master didn't have enough ingredients to fulfill such a request, I'm afraid," he coos, then looking at you from the golden eye, horrid smirk stretching his olive skin. "I'll gladly fetch a whale for you, if you so wish."
You scowl and cast your gaze elsewhere, preferring to remain silent. He cackles again. Luckily it's not much longer till land comes into view and he brings you to the sandy shore along a tall cliff. He slips from your grip as soon as you can crawl—or at least do something similar to it—and cling to a submerged boulder.
"Wait, where are you going?!" You bark once realizing he's slithering back into the ocean. "Are you seriously leaving me here?!"
"There's no need to panic, Captain," he grins, adding right before he disappears, "Help will be along shortly."
Huffing, you glance about at the isolated area, all the while your legs wobble and lungs burn. Every military instinct is screaming in protest at the situation: abandoned, handicapped, and lost in foreign territory with no clue how or why? Ursul couldn't have given you a shittier scenario if he wanted to.
There's no point wading around, you know, and so you return to crawling up to the shoreline. "I swear to God, if I get my hands on Ursul—" you grumble, and yet the rest is garbled having collapsed into the water. You let out a frustrated growl and turn over to glare heatedly at your new appendages. "These stupid things are completely useless! I can't even get around on them." The space where your legs meet your torso catches your attention. You slide a hand down in angry curiosity to find...a slit? No, a hole. "What the hell even is this?! Did he give me a damaged body or something?!"
"Acquainting yourself with your body so soon? My my, aren't we impatient," a sinuous voice hums.
You jolt to see a man watching you rather amusedly a few feet away. His skin is strikingly pale and stretches over his angular face that sings with a smirk, cynic arctic eyes regarding you with a familiarity that puts you further on edge. Lithe fingers run idly through snow white hair with a solid strip of gray that hardly abides to gravity, rather fanning off to the side like a plunging wave. The nautilus shell glimmers as it hangs comfortably against his chest that is clothed in fabrics of mauve, black, and white.
You can hardly believe it, but it's Ursul.
Not quite knowing how to handle this, you gawk soundlessly for a handful of seconds before he chuckles. It's a low, gruff sound. "As much as I adore the staring, I'm afraid we don't have much time," he says as he starts for you.
Something instinctual draws your legs towards your chest and shoots out a shaking hand. "No! I-it's okay, I don't need help," you stammer, and yet he's now sloshing through the ankle deep water. "Seriously! Stop, I'm in no need of your assistance!"
He rolls his eyes. "Quit yelling, (y/n). You have no reason to be so finicky."
You scoff amidst a incredulous laugh though you attempt to scoot away when he sits on his haunches beside you, eyes blatantly ogling his handiwork. "No reason?! I have every reason to be finicky!" you yell. "I know you're a conniving trickster who loves to take people off guard, but this is ridiculous—!"
With a drawn out groan, he abruptly grabs your face and pulls your neck to his mouth. The force behind it, how his tongue licks as if starving, the heat of him...it's silencing. Such sensations have been imprinted into your head, so much so that you find yourself responding naturally, emitting soft mewls and panting sighs till he breaks away.
"Quiet, child" he whispers, smirking. "You've just arrived and you're already exhausting yourself."
"You could've just told me..."
"Dramatics are what I live for," he dismisses and unites the cloak from around his neck. It's wrapped about you as he helps you stand, steadying you with a strong arm. Once on land, it's much easier to traverse the new terrain, which allows you to take in the fact Ursul is leading you towards a large, black box with some sort of four-legged creature attached to the front. He opens the door and guides you inside before speaking to the man sitting behind the creature. "We'll discuss the details soon. For now, try to relax." He crosses his legs and places an arm along the seat.
The box lurches and you reach out to him out of reflex, a hand landing on his upper thigh. You don't know why, but you yank it away hurriedly and fix your posture. He chuckles. "Oh, there's one more thing. You'll have to do your best not to call me Ursul here," he says.
You give him a confused expression. "What am I supposed to call you?"
Ursul lifts one of your hands to his lips where he kisses it languidly. Those arctic eyes flash up at you. "Please, call me Victor."* * *
Ten minutes later, the box you've learned is just a 'carriage' pulls up to a small building still seaside. The driver helps you out and bows to Victor—it's gonna take some getting used to—who promptly ushers you into the house. It's...gorgeous. It resembles Atlantica with its pillars and spiral staircases, with the highly detailed embossing and glittering chandeliers. Who knew human living quarters weren't so different? You peel your feet repeatedly off the wooden floor until a cough sounds.
Ursul stands at the bottom of the staircase, arms crossed over wide chest—interesting that didn't change in the transformation. "As much as it pains me to say it, we've got to get you dressed," he hums, eyeing the cloak. "Upstairs."
The command is followed by an outstretched hand that you take meekly. "Should I ask how you came by this place? I may not know how the human world functions, but I'm smart enough to know lodgings require money," you say, then finding yourself oddly entranced with his ass. He's never had one before, and now that it's directly in front of you, it's damn near memorizing. You faintly hear him speaking and 'mhm' intermittently though you're intently watching the rounded muscles tighten and crease the black pants he's wearing with each step. If his chest remains wide, you can only imagine what his V of pelvic muscles looks like...
"So, in short, I'm borrowing this place for the evening," he says.
You snap back. "Oh, right!"
The second landing is reached and he eyes you coyly. "Distracted?" The way he phrases it seems like an accusation.
"Not at all," you mumble and push past him into the room you vaguely recall is yours. The moment you cross the threshold, the cloak is abruptly yanked from your body.
