A sea of sisters; he grumbled in annoyance as the trio left him once more to do whatever it was that sisters did without their brothers. He could have gone with them, he supposed, but he was not like them or his parents.His father might have looked menacing, but the acha was also elegant. His mother was sleek, someone others stared at in reverence. And then there were his sisters that were bright and colorful and interesting, jellyfish that one wanted to cuddle with until the stings reminded them to think better of such foolishness. He, well, he looked menacing and he was, sometimes. He had been screamed at and cursed at and probably outright cursed at some point or another. It was hard to keep track. Usually, it was amusing. Usually, anyway.
With more effort than it should have been, The Scream Stricken heaved himself out of the mud that had sunk under his weight. A splash of water enveloped him as he fell into the lake. The black and green curls of his hair floated on the surface as he sunk low in the water, much like a caiman or a crocodile. But even those which kin feared most had mates and children. Did that make him worse? Was he some sort of villain? He looked the part with his horns arching out of the water like fangs and bright yellow eyes that pierced into one's soul. But looking the part was not the same as feeling it or even being it.
The gaggle of sisters should have been a clue, probably. He could be fierce and terrifying, but maybe he didn't always want to be. It'd be nice to be invited along. It'd be nice to be looked at, seen. Liked.
He sunk beneath the water, let the world of sunlight blur as the murk of silt danced before settling back to the bottom. To be liked; he was a dreamer.
