[The apparently friendly aura the dragon had given off hadn't done anything to change the fact that his yellow-eyed gaze was a reminder of Ferran's mortality—of the fate he pictured himself facing when he returned home. It was only a matter of time, really, at this rate. So why wait? He'd thrown himself into a suicidal mission before, only that one was entirely selfish. At least like this, he could do something helpful.
Witch assistance isn't hard to come by, and his lack of fins doesn't mean he's unable to swim. With some practice, he manages to get his wings to pull their own weight, so to speak, instead of being more of a nuisance. And as reckless as he might be to throw himself into the effort, he's at least gotten himself a proper wetsuit made before he heads out, leaving little exposed to the open water.]
II.a [When he reaches an eel nest, he pauses for a moment at a distance, net in one hand. If there happens to be anyone else nearby, he gestures for them to approach, promising a plan with his gaze. How are they supposed to escape you when they can't see you, after all? Not that it will prevent them from zapping anyone if they simply lash out, but it's better than nothing, surely.]
II.b [Whales may be enormous and intimidating because of their size, but they're not sharks—and Ferran hardly thinks gathering a few hangers-on from their undersides is the same as trying to outmaneuver a shark head on, especially once you get out of the range of those overeager tails. Not that he thinks sharks are particularly worrisome, either, if you don't look like a seal or a fish, which he's definitely certain he doesn't. Plus, he'd rather not hurt anything if he doesn't have to, and punching a shark in the face or ripping a sucker off an octopus just sounds like an unpleasant time for everything involved.
That doesn't mean there's not a shark nearby and possibly approaching, though. And Ferran may have entirely missed the "dangerous, man-eating" label, simply thinking he knows better than the typical paranoid mindset he knows from back home...]
IV. [Ferran thinks it might be bullshit that the dragon can't come down with them, but he's stopped caring enough to call Aindrias out. He's asking the Mirrorbound, as always, to risk their own lives instead of stepping forward and doing the work himself... just like everyone else in this world.
But it's not like the Fae can deny this thing needs to be destroyed, so after the breathing enchantments have been sorted, he heads into the whirlpool without a word.
All he has in the way of protection are illusions to conceal his presence, and failing that, a knife. When they finally settle at the ocean floor, he doesn't head out immediately, regarding the infected forest with the look of someone who knows exactly what he's gotten himself into and how little he's prepared for it.]
IV.a [Dark spots already stand out on his white and gold wings by the time they reach the heart, and the sight of it nearly makes him sick by itself—he has to turn his head and close his eyes, holding the back of his hand over his mouth.
He's already infected, so there's no more "risk." It's just a matter of finishing the work. After shaking his head to snap himself out of it, he pulls out his own sack of now-magical components and surges forward to enter the twisted whale fall, whether the others have made their decision or not.]
IV.b [Now... run!
Ferran does not run.
He watches solemnly instead as the light builds, shoulders sagging. Although there's still a strong part of him that's terrified by the prospect, the rest of him is tired, and aching, and miserable in a way he can't see changing. So it's easier to simply float there as their efforts come to fruition.
Perhaps someone will see this and try to drag him along with them—or maybe they'll simply wait by his side with a similar mindset, thinking their job is over.]
Wildcard
[OOC: If there's something else specific you'd like to plot with me, hit me up via PM or at lumieresdedragon!]
Ferran Gallagher | Fae | OTA
Witch assistance isn't hard to come by, and his lack of fins doesn't mean he's unable to swim. With some practice, he manages to get his wings to pull their own weight, so to speak, instead of being more of a nuisance. And as reckless as he might be to throw himself into the effort, he's at least gotten himself a proper wetsuit made before he heads out, leaving little exposed to the open water.]
II.a
[When he reaches an eel nest, he pauses for a moment at a distance, net in one hand. If there happens to be anyone else nearby, he gestures for them to approach, promising a plan with his gaze. How are they supposed to escape you when they can't see you, after all? Not that it will prevent them from zapping anyone if they simply lash out, but it's better than nothing, surely.]
II.b
[Whales may be enormous and intimidating because of their size, but they're not sharks—and Ferran hardly thinks gathering a few hangers-on from their undersides is the same as trying to outmaneuver a shark head on, especially once you get out of the range of those overeager tails. Not that he thinks sharks are particularly worrisome, either, if you don't look like a seal or a fish, which he's definitely certain he doesn't. Plus, he'd rather not hurt anything if he doesn't have to, and punching a shark in the face or ripping a sucker off an octopus just sounds like an unpleasant time for everything involved.
That doesn't mean there's not a shark nearby and possibly approaching, though. And Ferran may have entirely missed the "dangerous, man-eating" label, simply thinking he knows better than the typical paranoid mindset he knows from back home...]
IV.
[Ferran thinks it might be bullshit that the dragon can't come down with them, but he's stopped caring enough to call Aindrias out. He's asking the Mirrorbound, as always, to risk their own lives instead of stepping forward and doing the work himself... just like everyone else in this world.
But it's not like the Fae can deny this thing needs to be destroyed, so after the breathing enchantments have been sorted, he heads into the whirlpool without a word.
All he has in the way of protection are illusions to conceal his presence, and failing that, a knife. When they finally settle at the ocean floor, he doesn't head out immediately, regarding the infected forest with the look of someone who knows exactly what he's gotten himself into and how little he's prepared for it.]
IV.a
[Dark spots already stand out on his white and gold wings by the time they reach the heart, and the sight of it nearly makes him sick by itself—he has to turn his head and close his eyes, holding the back of his hand over his mouth.
He's already infected, so there's no more "risk." It's just a matter of finishing the work. After shaking his head to snap himself out of it, he pulls out his own sack of now-magical components and surges forward to enter the twisted whale fall, whether the others have made their decision or not.]
IV.b
[Now... run!
Ferran does not run.
He watches solemnly instead as the light builds, shoulders sagging. Although there's still a strong part of him that's terrified by the prospect, the rest of him is tired, and aching, and miserable in a way he can't see changing. So it's easier to simply float there as their efforts come to fruition.
Perhaps someone will see this and try to drag him along with them—or maybe they'll simply wait by his side with a similar mindset, thinking their job is over.]
Wildcard
[OOC: If there's something else specific you'd like to plot with me, hit me up via PM or at