Adventure after adventure, goodness gracious Kaimana was being run around quite a bit. She was off to the Isles now to fish, and also just to have some quiet time. All this time being lonely, followed up by all this time being spent in the company of others... it was strange, how she could now fathom actually wanting to be alone, even if temporarily. Well-- okay, was it wanting to be alone? Or was it wanting some sense of silence...

Silence...

The memories of the stones entered her mind. She had managed them then, but occasionally they came back. Those stones were crowding up the den still, she ought to start trading them... she ought to peer into the memories of the rest. Right? Right. That way she could at least give some kind of a description...

Was the silence here predatory? Or was it not silence at all? Kaimana looked around, suddenly weary of her surroundings. She wasn't feeling jumpy, per say. Just mildly more alert than, perhaps, what she had to be. It wasn't like many creatures lived out here.

When would it be broken? What? That question didn't even make any sense! When would what be-- oh, I see. Probably never, because how can it be broken when it never truly existed? Hush, fears. Leave.

The jaguar made a bit of an impulse decision. It was calculated in the sense that the end goal was getting her head to focus on something else. She moved towards the water and hopped in, looking for a fish.

@Miasma

Miasma

She sleeps among sand and sediment, her length curled against the underwater slope of an island, the water surrounding her calm. Unconsciously, one set of bone limbs digs into the sand to prevent her from slipping down from her spot into the warmer waters below as she rests, keeping her in her position—black smoke drifts lazily from her gills with every sleeping breath she takes, curling above her and hiding her form in the water.

Something leaps into the water, then—something big, something from the surface—and the ripples of its movement jolts Miasma from her sleep.

A curious trill rumbles in her chest, from her second mouth; bone limbs twitch and shake sand off of their extremities, and she breathes, rising with the tide.

What…?

What is moving so quickly in the water above? She can't feel it, yet, but she can feel its ripples, its echoes of movement within the tide surrounding her; it's somewhere nearby. She's never felt anything move in the water like that, before…

The cloud of smoke around her lifts, rising through the water, coalescing from a vague cloud into a dark plume. The ink-dark column rises with intent, twisting and searching for the source of that strange, strange movement—

—she feels it break the surface, water ebbing and flowing around the peak of the curling smoke, and, yet, feels nothing besides the ocean air.

Still, there's something in the water. She can feel it moving—where is it?

Speaking.
Thinking.

@Kaimana