- Character Biography
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He felt disgusting to witness, presently, not much more than a wisp of fur stuck to the sand. Useless, for this Marteness to jostle around as she pleased. Enormous ears flicking and wavering back, he looked up at her as she spoke feeling like not much more than a speck, despite himself.
The further he tried to think on it, the more the throbbing in its head made itself known with a terrible vengeance, and the more the Marteness looked annoyed.
Then he was back to being maneuvered around again, as though a stubborn and unruly piece of driftwood. He couldn't help it, really; his body ached something awful from tip to toe, like he'd been thrown about and punched from every angle. Maybe he had, given this Marteness' treatment, but... he could hardly blame her, given the situation—could he?
As she flipped him onto his side, he couldn't help but feel terribly large. The Marteness was by no means small, but she struggled to move him purely out of his awkward length. As he grunted and grimaced, trying to settle into position and not be quite so useless, she spoke again:
—then he felt her fist connect with his stomach and the contents of it and his lungs had nowhere to go but up. He retched up an awful beige-y green color, not a bit of it solid, and more salt water came sputtering out of him once all of that had found its way into the sand by his head. The half coconut shell of water looked pretty good about now, managing to escape the mess unscathed and upright.
With a horribly weak mewl, he went to bring his paws up to his face to shiver and curl but found that he was already being moved about again—this time much more roughly than before. His long arms were twisted and wrenched into a position that he found quite hurt and, in a flash, her rather shapely leg was at his neck. He looked up at it and her, eyes wide and watering as she spoke once more:
...and who was she to him?
He wracked his mind on the subject, trying to think fast and hard in one panicked moment, and found nothing there to greet him except the growing pain prickling across his scalp. The harder he thought, the more it ached and the less he found anything there to greet him but a great, dark void. It didn't make any sense. He had to have come from somewhere, know somebeast; remember at least something of himself?
Home? Family? Life? Means?
...But there was simply emptiness—and that frightened him. A cold and simple worry was beginning to crawl its way up his spine.
'Maybe we will get off of this island alive' sounded a lot like a threat.
Remaining deathly still, not daring to make a movement or motion that might incur more of the Marteness' wrath, he attempted to answer her questions with nothing but honesty. It came out creakier and croakier than a toad, given his awkward angle and the pressure, but that didn't stop him from the attempt:
"I-I d-don't... know?" He grunted, blinking his big, blue eyes up at her. A few tears started to well up then, and he shook his head to try and quell them, wiggling himself deeper into the sand. Hopefully the Marteness would be sated by his answer... he didn't know what else he would do, if not. He felt too weak to be able to throw her off, especially under the full weight of her knee. Perhaps the tactic of being pitiable was all he had...
"My head, it..." He trailed off, looking up at her imploringly. "And I can't remember...?"
"That... seems fair?" He murmured softly, clenching and unclenching his offpaw in the sand to see how it moved. After all, what were his intentions with this Marteness? Now that he thought about it, apparently his first instinct been to go for his hip...
The further he tried to think on it, the more the throbbing in its head made itself known with a terrible vengeance, and the more the Marteness looked annoyed.
"...Very well... and, erm... thank you? I'm not quite sure—Oh—!"
Then he was back to being maneuvered around again, as though a stubborn and unruly piece of driftwood. He couldn't help it, really; his body ached something awful from tip to toe, like he'd been thrown about and punched from every angle. Maybe he had, given this Marteness' treatment, but... he could hardly blame her, given the situation—could he?
As she flipped him onto his side, he couldn't help but feel terribly large. The Marteness was by no means small, but she struggled to move him purely out of his awkward length. As he grunted and grimaced, trying to settle into position and not be quite so useless, she spoke again:
"Oh no—" He thought as much as said.
—then he felt her fist connect with his stomach and the contents of it and his lungs had nowhere to go but up. He retched up an awful beige-y green color, not a bit of it solid, and more salt water came sputtering out of him once all of that had found its way into the sand by his head. The half coconut shell of water looked pretty good about now, managing to escape the mess unscathed and upright.
With a horribly weak mewl, he went to bring his paws up to his face to shiver and curl but found that he was already being moved about again—this time much more roughly than before. His long arms were twisted and wrenched into a position that he found quite hurt and, in a flash, her rather shapely leg was at his neck. He looked up at it and her, eyes wide and watering as she spoke once more:
Now that was a question. Who was he?
...and who was she to him?
He wracked his mind on the subject, trying to think fast and hard in one panicked moment, and found nothing there to greet him except the growing pain prickling across his scalp. The harder he thought, the more it ached and the less he found anything there to greet him but a great, dark void. It didn't make any sense. He had to have come from somewhere, know somebeast; remember at least something of himself?
Home? Family? Life? Means?
...But there was simply emptiness—and that frightened him. A cold and simple worry was beginning to crawl its way up his spine.
'Maybe we will get off of this island alive' sounded a lot like a threat.
Remaining deathly still, not daring to make a movement or motion that might incur more of the Marteness' wrath, he attempted to answer her questions with nothing but honesty. It came out creakier and croakier than a toad, given his awkward angle and the pressure, but that didn't stop him from the attempt:
"I-I d-don't... know?" He grunted, blinking his big, blue eyes up at her. A few tears started to well up then, and he shook his head to try and quell them, wiggling himself deeper into the sand. Hopefully the Marteness would be sated by his answer... he didn't know what else he would do, if not. He felt too weak to be able to throw her off, especially under the full weight of her knee. Perhaps the tactic of being pitiable was all he had...
"My head, it..." He trailed off, looking up at her imploringly. "And I can't remember...?"
