Ember awoke in a tangled mat of brown, slimy, and not pleasant to smell seaweed. It clung around and to him, in a mockery of the mermaid costume he had conjured up for his "Maiden voyage" send off.
Now, "Sent Off".
Groaning, and with aches in places he had no clue one could even ache in, he staggered to his knees, and reeled against the beating sun, as the waves lapped at his legs and feet. His skin was raw, and his pajamas were soaked, stained, and torn.
Feeling about himself, he found he still had his wand, though it too was completely enmeshed in the brown ball of gooey plantlife he found himself bound up in-- as if the ocean had heaved back, and coughed up a giant festering ball of snot, with him inside it.
He was still clutching the foot locker, but one would never have been able to tell. The weedy growth had nucleated around it, which is how he himself had become so entangled. Traces of the ice raft melted under the gentle lapping of the surf, as it swished the slimy mass this way and that around him.
Disgustedly, he retched, and heaved up a stomach of swallowed sea water.
He felt well and truly miserable.
Casting a dour expression out at the sea, he raised a fist at the now sublime and calm blue-green ocean, and raged at it.
"Blast you, you fickle, deep-trenched watery tart! Go and cough *ME* up in this ball of filth from your nethers, and not a single one of my babies! I'd tell you to go suck a whale, but you do it every day, you filthy whore! You've dragged more men down there than--"
He cut off, as he heard a strained, gurgling coughing sound coming from further up the beach.
"--DONT think I'm finished with you, you soggy strumpet! I'll have my vengeance yet!" he spat, then struggled to his feet, then up the shore, pausing only momentarily to summon the (still completely ensnared in seaweed) foot locker to follow behind him, illiciting an image of a demented seamonster slithering behind him, rather than a levitating trunk.
Wandering toward the coughing, ember lurched and staggered in the sand, with the undulating mass following in his wake.
Now, "Sent Off".
Groaning, and with aches in places he had no clue one could even ache in, he staggered to his knees, and reeled against the beating sun, as the waves lapped at his legs and feet. His skin was raw, and his pajamas were soaked, stained, and torn.
Feeling about himself, he found he still had his wand, though it too was completely enmeshed in the brown ball of gooey plantlife he found himself bound up in-- as if the ocean had heaved back, and coughed up a giant festering ball of snot, with him inside it.
He was still clutching the foot locker, but one would never have been able to tell. The weedy growth had nucleated around it, which is how he himself had become so entangled. Traces of the ice raft melted under the gentle lapping of the surf, as it swished the slimy mass this way and that around him.
Disgustedly, he retched, and heaved up a stomach of swallowed sea water.
He felt well and truly miserable.
Casting a dour expression out at the sea, he raised a fist at the now sublime and calm blue-green ocean, and raged at it.
"Blast you, you fickle, deep-trenched watery tart! Go and cough *ME* up in this ball of filth from your nethers, and not a single one of my babies! I'd tell you to go suck a whale, but you do it every day, you filthy whore! You've dragged more men down there than--"
He cut off, as he heard a strained, gurgling coughing sound coming from further up the beach.
"--DONT think I'm finished with you, you soggy strumpet! I'll have my vengeance yet!" he spat, then struggled to his feet, then up the shore, pausing only momentarily to summon the (still completely ensnared in seaweed) foot locker to follow behind him, illiciting an image of a demented seamonster slithering behind him, rather than a levitating trunk.
Wandering toward the coughing, ember lurched and staggered in the sand, with the undulating mass following in his wake.