C'leel couldn't deny that he was afraid. And as much as he tried to keep up the front of bravado, he suspected the human Captain knew it to. He seemed a more intelligent sort than the rest of his crew, which he supposed he had to be. He wasn't big enough to intimidate by size and strength alone, or- from what C'leel had seen- vicious enough to command through sheer terror. Not that that did a great deal to calm him. An intelligent captor would be that much harder to escape from, assuming it was even possible.
Some small part of him felt bad for disabusing the humans of any notion that his blood held some miraculous cures. There were those among his people who could have, perhaps, helped those the Captain mentioned, but healing magic was a craft that required many years of study and practice. And who even knew whether techniques meant for healing mers would be equally effective on humans? Still, if he'd had such abilities, and the opportunity to use them to help an innocent arose, he wouldn't have needed to be forced.
But that small part was, at present, a very small part. He was still a prisoner, however, bound for an uncertain fate, one that grew more uncertain by the moment. At present, he could only clutch his pouch and wait as he was discussed, though he could see that they were even eyeing that. Unsurprising, he supposed; as their prisoner, the would likely claim anything on his person as part of their catch. The pouch itself was on the large side, designed to evoke an upturned snail shell, and made of sturdy turtle-skin leather. It hung over his shoulder on a long strap of the same, though the strap was more flexible than the stiffened leather of pouch. He suspected that they would be far mor interested in its contents than its craftsmanship, however.
He was forced to still for a movement as the captain cut him free of the net- he had no interest in having more than the ropes cut after all- but once the captain had put away his knife, he resumed his struggles with renewed vigor. Not that he suspected that they would be especially effective as despite them he was hauled steadily away from the side of the ship and the freedom that lay in the sea, but he was determined to make his transition to true captivity as difficult as possible for his captor.
Eventually though he was deposited with a splash into a metal tub of seawater, glaring up at the captain from the awkward position. He took a certain amount of grim satisfaction in how disheveled he now looked. Served him right! But continuing to glare at him wouldn't accomplish anything at this point, and after a long moment, he allowed himself to shift into a slightly more comfortable position in the tub, pulling in the tips of his fins from where they'd trailed over the edge, and glanced around the room. Though it was in a similarly disheveled state to its owner as a result of his thrashing, it was still more intact that any human room he'd ever been able to examine; even just at a glance, he could spot a number of things he recognized but even more that he didn't, made all the more fascinating by their novelty. And it was out of the sun, which he had to admit was a marked improvement from being on deck.
But still, he was well and truly caught now. Which led to a single question in his mind. "Well, you have me," he said, bitter and wary. "What now?" He wasn't to be dinner, but that still left a great many possibilities, most of them unpleasant.
no subject
Some small part of him felt bad for disabusing the humans of any notion that his blood held some miraculous cures. There were those among his people who could have, perhaps, helped those the Captain mentioned, but healing magic was a craft that required many years of study and practice. And who even knew whether techniques meant for healing mers would be equally effective on humans? Still, if he'd had such abilities, and the opportunity to use them to help an innocent arose, he wouldn't have needed to be forced.
But that small part was, at present, a very small part. He was still a prisoner, however, bound for an uncertain fate, one that grew more uncertain by the moment. At present, he could only clutch his pouch and wait as he was discussed, though he could see that they were even eyeing that. Unsurprising, he supposed; as their prisoner, the would likely claim anything on his person as part of their catch. The pouch itself was on the large side, designed to evoke an upturned snail shell, and made of sturdy turtle-skin leather. It hung over his shoulder on a long strap of the same, though the strap was more flexible than the stiffened leather of pouch. He suspected that they would be far mor interested in its contents than its craftsmanship, however.
He was forced to still for a movement as the captain cut him free of the net- he had no interest in having more than the ropes cut after all- but once the captain had put away his knife, he resumed his struggles with renewed vigor. Not that he suspected that they would be especially effective as despite them he was hauled steadily away from the side of the ship and the freedom that lay in the sea, but he was determined to make his transition to true captivity as difficult as possible for his captor.
Eventually though he was deposited with a splash into a metal tub of seawater, glaring up at the captain from the awkward position. He took a certain amount of grim satisfaction in how disheveled he now looked. Served him right! But continuing to glare at him wouldn't accomplish anything at this point, and after a long moment, he allowed himself to shift into a slightly more comfortable position in the tub, pulling in the tips of his fins from where they'd trailed over the edge, and glanced around the room. Though it was in a similarly disheveled state to its owner as a result of his thrashing, it was still more intact that any human room he'd ever been able to examine; even just at a glance, he could spot a number of things he recognized but even more that he didn't, made all the more fascinating by their novelty. And it was out of the sun, which he had to admit was a marked improvement from being on deck.
But still, he was well and truly caught now. Which led to a single question in his mind. "Well, you have me," he said, bitter and wary. "What now?" He wasn't to be dinner, but that still left a great many possibilities, most of them unpleasant.