"I don't--" He's spluttering objections the instant he's plucked from under the water. "Need to-- breathe."
Never you mind that he's panting for air while hanging like a sack of mud in her arms, twisting his face to keep it above the lap of water. That's irrelevant after the effort he'd spent floundering his way back out of the depths. Griffons, as it turns out, aren't meant for swimming. They're awfully dense. Sink like stones.
And somehow the moment after a change is always the most difficult one. Already the effort takes all his concentration, all his intent, but the moment after sparks some flash of confusion and alien panic. It's a bit like wrestling with himself knowing that the next second he'll be duking it out with the shard's demands. And while he'd never say that a few millennia of easy shapechanging have left him flabby (it does take skill, you know), the added difficulty certainly raises the stakes. Makes things like not making a fool out of yourself a little tricky.
Under the water, he kicks his feathered and furred legs until they sort themselves out. It takes a few seconds but eventually Kitty should find herself with an armful of sea lion, its down-soft pelt oil slippery in the sea. Sure, he might feel more like a giant sturgeon fish or a shark right about now, but the proximity of the rift shard in any guise without a sizable limb to keep it contained makes him a little queasy. Flippers might not be very dignified, but they get the job of dredging the pair of them toward the city's walled banks just fine.
no subject
Never you mind that he's panting for air while hanging like a sack of mud in her arms, twisting his face to keep it above the lap of water. That's irrelevant after the effort he'd spent floundering his way back out of the depths. Griffons, as it turns out, aren't meant for swimming. They're awfully dense. Sink like stones.
And somehow the moment after a change is always the most difficult one. Already the effort takes all his concentration, all his intent, but the moment after sparks some flash of confusion and alien panic. It's a bit like wrestling with himself knowing that the next second he'll be duking it out with the shard's demands. And while he'd never say that a few millennia of easy shapechanging have left him flabby (it does take skill, you know), the added difficulty certainly raises the stakes. Makes things like not making a fool out of yourself a little tricky.
Under the water, he kicks his feathered and furred legs until they sort themselves out. It takes a few seconds but eventually Kitty should find herself with an armful of sea lion, its down-soft pelt oil slippery in the sea. Sure, he might feel more like a giant sturgeon fish or a shark right about now, but the proximity of the rift shard in any guise without a sizable limb to keep it contained makes him a little queasy. Flippers might not be very dignified, but they get the job of dredging the pair of them toward the city's walled banks just fine.