He had split off with Lyr, exchanging a kiss and 'good luck' at the sight of the massive lake. It was clearly something suited towards his own nature, something that he could explore in way that Lyr simply could not. He was careful to stash away his clothes and sword, neatly hiding them away from prying eyes under some loose rubble before slipping into the cool water.
The change happened almost instantaneously, his legs fusing together, gills fluttering open between his ribs. He was strong, powerful and utterly at home in this environment and the water seemed to beckon to him; he hadn't had much time since his changes to really experience the water, and despite the danger bubbles burst last his lips with his delighted laughter and he shot forward like an arrow through the darkness exploring.
Perhaps since he hadn't experience the feeling of swimming in his merrow form that he conflated that feeling with the preternatural calm and enjoyment the water gave him. But then it was too late, even as he forced himself to surface, to get back to the edge.
He managed to get to the edge of the lake, and lay there, gasping, and shuddering. His form shifted back, but he barely even noticed the shift as he shuddered, his skin mottled with grey patches, the early sign of rot. It was agony on his gills, the corruption spreading to the delicate membranes, stiffening them, making it difficult to correctly seal them, now that he was on land. He struggled to breathe then, his body caught between two forms of breath unable to do either. Gooseflesh prickled over his skin, and his breath rasped through his lungs, and the dry air seared at his gills as he lay there, shuddering, teeth grinding together, trying to gather his strength enough to sit up.
For Waver
The change happened almost instantaneously, his legs fusing together, gills fluttering open between his ribs. He was strong, powerful and utterly at home in this environment and the water seemed to beckon to him; he hadn't had much time since his changes to really experience the water, and despite the danger bubbles burst last his lips with his delighted laughter and he shot forward like an arrow through the darkness exploring.
Perhaps since he hadn't experience the feeling of swimming in his merrow form that he conflated that feeling with the preternatural calm and enjoyment the water gave him. But then it was too late, even as he forced himself to surface, to get back to the edge.
He managed to get to the edge of the lake, and lay there, gasping, and shuddering. His form shifted back, but he barely even noticed the shift as he shuddered, his skin mottled with grey patches, the early sign of rot. It was agony on his gills, the corruption spreading to the delicate membranes, stiffening them, making it difficult to correctly seal them, now that he was on land. He struggled to breathe then, his body caught between two forms of breath unable to do either. Gooseflesh prickled over his skin, and his breath rasped through his lungs, and the dry air seared at his gills as he lay there, shuddering, teeth grinding together, trying to gather his strength enough to sit up.