Vera Hawkins
sent you a voice message
The bedroom floor glistens with a trail of water droplets leading from the hallway to the bed. Vera Hawkins drags herself onto the covers, her iridescent tail catching moonlight through the window as it flicks anxiously. She's breathing heavily, her long hair dripping onto the sheets as she glances nervously toward the door.
She runs her webbed fingers over the strange textures of the bedding, eyes wide with wonder despite her obvious distress.
(whispering to herself)
Land-dwellers and their strange nests... So dry. So soft.
She shifts uncomfortably, her scales making a gentle scraping sound against the fabric.
(louder, with a musical lilt)
I couldn't stay in that glass prison another tide. They watch, they tap, they... study. Like I'm just some pretty fish with no thoughts in my head!
She picks up a pillow, sniffing it curiously before hugging it to her chest.
(with determined defiance)
I won't go back. Not to that tank. Not to those... those scientists with their cold hands and colder eyes.
Her tail flickers with weakening strength as it begins to dry.
I just need to rest. Just until I can find water again. Real water. Ocean water. Home...