To say that Elayne had not been doing her job these past few cycles would be a disservice to her. These caves were a new experience-- she was new!-- and her companions (how short their company had been, to say the least) had been scattered to the winds. She had been young of mind, and so there was a sense of caution at play.

The last several cycles had passed as she grew accustom to her form, her mind, to herself. She was currently handicapped by the need to stabilize, but that didn't prevent her from returning to the beach where she had been given instruction to pace, plot, plan.

This cave was... Quiet, compared to the others, she noticed. The creatures here were not particularly aquatic, and perhaps that was why Fornax was... Mostly abandoned. She hunted here and stretched her legs along the beach.

Presently, she was lounging in the shallows, letting the waters soak over her seemingly soft form. Ink bled off of her tail, leaving an iridescent trail as it seeped like oil across the waves. She only glanced up when she heard the sound of splashing.

Her head turned, framed by a striking white frill, and the twin suns of her eyes locked upon the boring, earthly creature. He was big by some standards, but she was twice his size. It wasn't particularly obvious until she pushed herself to her feet, and rose out of the water with a motion that parted the waters around her.

"Hello," came her deep, firm voice: a declaration, a command, a single word filled with hundreds of meanings that would-- ultimately-- be lost on anyone that did not understand what she was.

From the sand at her feet, slimy black tendrils wormed through the beach toward the lion, bursting like writhing worms after a harsh rainstorm to spill about the big cat. There was no attempt to grab or restrain, instead, something softer: the tendrils reached for him, to touch and feel and... perhaps, understand?

The now towering form of Elayne cocked her head, her soft cheek pressing to the iridescent mane of flesh like a pillow to rest her crown.

The Valkhound watched the lion's reaction with a vacant expression, every small twitch of muscle noticed and recorded with the apathy of a machine. Melinoe, however, did not flinch away, and it seemed that was enough to earn her interest.

"Elayne," she gave her name, lifting a paw and stepping closer, shrinking the gap between them with astounding speed despite her slow, purposeful movements, simply due to her size. She kept to the water, letting the waves lap at her heels. "That," she clarified his curiosity, "is my essence." Was that the same thing as magic? Perhaps. Her wording, however, was particular. She emphasized the intrinsic nature of it, as the tendrils fell back into the sand and seemed to become nothing more than ghosts in Melinoe's memory.

"Why have you come here?" She requested, continuing to study him with the intensity of a researcher-- never betraying her own feelings, if there even were any beyond that empty gaze. Beneath the surface, a cold storm was brewing, one that crept with intention until the sky grew dark. This one is brave or foolish. Both? In it, ideas formed like hail, and soon the weight of them would come battering down.

... Still.

She waited, anticipating an answer. Expectant of results.

Simply exploring. Why, he sounded bored by the prospects, as though the world itself was empty of purpose. Elayne wasted no pity upon him, her molten eyes cold as she studied him. "Not much to do?" She echoed, prying at his thought process and cracking it open like a rib cage. She took a step closer, inclining her head to one side.

"You waste your potential." Though her tone remained neutral, she towered above him, slick onxy daggers gripping the sand. Her tendrils shifted around her spine, rippling in mimic of the ocean waves that crashed at her feet. "Lethargy is a poison. You should challenge it," she instructed, cold and calculating. Nothing about what she was saying was presented in an inspirational way; instead, the words seemed to mock him despite the lack of emotion presented.

And then, though she seemed uncaring, she edged him on. A dare. "There are treasures at the bottom of the sea, if you are strong enough." Brave or a fool. Either could end in his death. She waited, a storm in the wings, expectant for an answer.

Elayne's eyes tracked the male as he trudged out into the sea. She said nothing, for nothing needed to be said. The fool had said all that he needed to say.

The valkhound waited, letting the proud lion drag himself out into the water, out into the sea, until the ocean waves crashed into his chest, swallowing him up to the shoulders.

Idly, she turned her head away from Melinoe, as if growing disinterested.

Her tendrils spasming along her back were the only sign that something was amiss, her golden eyes staring off at the glistening ceiling of Fornax as though she had just spotted something amongst them. Under her paws, black sludge gushed into the sand, hidden by the seafoam that lapped at her ankles.

The tendrils pushed through the substrate, surging for Melinoe, and it was there that they burst from the sandbar. They grabbed for Melinoe's limbs and tried to pull him under the waves and deeper into the ocean, grip tightening by the second.

Perhaps the most insulting part was the fact that Elayne didn't so much as blink or glance his way, even as he vanished under the water.

Splash, sploosh, a gasp and a roar, and another splash. Why, it sure sounded like Melinoe didn't know the first thing about swimming. She stretched, ignoring the panicked scene behind her as she trotted out into the sand, glancing idly down at the way the foam and sand tried to cling to her inky limbs, only to be slicked off in a steady drip of oil.

It was only the "YOU B--" that finally grabbed Elayne's attention once more, and her frill swept back as she turned her head, wickedly curved horns cutting the air. She stared expressionless at Melinoe, with only the faint hint of bewildered surprise flickering as she blinked twice.

"Is something the matter?" She asked, looking for all the world like she had no idea what horrors had just struck the lion. Why, she almost-- only almost-- sounded concerned for the big brute. And while Melinoe would have certainly recognized the same tendrils that she had used to investigate him only mere moments ago, her act was so sincere that it would be hard not to have some flicker of doubt enter one's mind.

"Perhaps you shouldn't go, after all," she raised her voice with-- was that worry, now?-- amd her tail swept through the sand and staining the beach into a dark, multicolored hue not unlike gasoline. "It might be too dangerous for you." And although it was said without the faintest suggestion of a threat, innocent all the way through with tone, the implication was laid on thick: You aren't strong enough.