The one in front of me turns back, older than me, hair in a braid slipped over the shoulder. I'd later attempt to imitate this hair style, but that was not now, for now, merely a ponytail. Long hair on men was the trend I had never grown out of, but one cannot underestimate the danger of such in battle and work. He asks if I've done this before, and of course, I haven't, and then I'm wished the best. And even those minor words frighten me. I knew what I had signed up for, and by now, I'd die for this city, because anything was better than the worse places I was. Quickly brought into patriotism, that would soon bloom into mania, my eyes seemed to sparkle with the excitement of first-battle, to be able to take part in the growth and protection of Sugarteara...
And by the time I stopped pondering such a question as dying for one's homeland, we were already under the shadow of what brought us here. A claw over one eye, and while still running towards, I took note of those features bewitten us. A flat fuck that poor thing was, tall, wideish, staring down, of white and a medium blue, with cloudy eyes. And what a glorious top fin! It reached towards the heavens, as if to welcome a hand towards Sea Fairy herself.
And to be noted, all of us had some form of weaponry, usually a sword or a similar blade, and we would've invested if guns if the technology for such underwater feats was at cheap yet. And of course, that one beefcake got the harpoon.
Ah. Being the absolute ditz I always am and always will be, I had forgotten that blade, wider than the head, in such anticipation for being able to fight. And then looking down to notice that forgetfulness, as the others took heed and sliced, jumped, yelled whenever the back fin would twirl (getting hit by something that big would leave such a bruise!), looking down at the claws that should've held something, anything.
I didn't need a weapon, perhaps.