@ifyouwaltzwiththewildthings :: continued from HERE.
lips curled upward, revealing dangerously perfect fangs that sparkled as if carved from akoya pearls. smallfolk were, in his mind, simple and inconsequential creatures. while each possessed their own artillery of trickery—otherworldly abilities inherited only through fae-blood—even they could fall victim to a siren’s song. beauty was a formidable yet easily underestimated power. aside from his own cleverness, it was the only thing marlowe could dare claim to rival his fellow merfolk.
“ my skin has grown dull and my bones brittle as i waste away from the inside out. “ he moaned, trailing a hand along the lackluster shine of his sea-green tail ( which had mournfully begun to grey from malnutrition ). if fletcher were not such a loyal servant to his beck and call, he’d have simply reached out and crushed their microscopic bones in a greedy fist before inhaling them whole. “ you’re such a sweet thing, little bug. won’t you bring me a treat ? something fresh and bloody to warm this growling beast in my stomach. in return i’ll grant you a singular request : a treasure from some sunken ship, or shells and bones off the seafloor ? anything you’d like in return for a hearty, meaty meal. the bigger—the fresher—my dinner, the mightier your reward. “