[ Acclimating. As if that's a normal thing to do, out in the middle of a deep river. Maybe it is, out here. Unease still floods him at the sight of that fin, at the immediate, unwelcome idea of being forced to acclimate, getting stuck in the water.
Not that he has a choice whether he does or doesn't. He'd prefer to backtrack toward land, over joining Danse in the water, but before he can even pretend to be optimistic about his chances, his leg finally collapses.
It's not exactly a painful sensation, though he reaches for his knee with a grimace, either way, as he drops in the shallows. But the slippery, melty unzippering of his limb is not what he'd describe as pleasant, either. Least of all when his hands plunge into the tangle of boneless, suckered arms that his leg has dissolved into. Arcade makes a horrified sound, reflexive, and lunges backward into another splash, but that mass of tentacles follows him, because it is him, cold and bizarre and writhing. He almost doesn't notice the current dragging him across the sand, pulling him toward deeper water. ]
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Not that he has a choice whether he does or doesn't. He'd prefer to backtrack toward land, over joining Danse in the water, but before he can even pretend to be optimistic about his chances, his leg finally collapses.
It's not exactly a painful sensation, though he reaches for his knee with a grimace, either way, as he drops in the shallows. But the slippery, melty unzippering of his limb is not what he'd describe as pleasant, either. Least of all when his hands plunge into the tangle of boneless, suckered arms that his leg has dissolved into. Arcade makes a horrified sound, reflexive, and lunges backward into another splash, but that mass of tentacles follows him, because it is him, cold and bizarre and writhing. He almost doesn't notice the current dragging him across the sand, pulling him toward deeper water. ]