[ "coming along" being the answer for everything isn't satisfactory; he's not half as interested in other experiments, performing solo as usual but anything like they'd given him for eichi left untouched; he won't even come out of the water, watching them from the depths until they're just taken away, or they starve, or whatever. no; eichi has an iron grip on his mind, the only angel he's met, while everyone else that arrives is a multiple of something or another.
he collects shells at the bottom of this tank, of other ones; he collects little trinkets from other biomes he's put into too, when it becomes obvious he has little desire to come out of the sea water of his own. there isn't very much they can do with him, given he can dry out, but fresh water is a painful exercise in breathing. he can live, but it hurts,
but no one interests him the same way.
besides, there's children on the way, if it all works out. he asks for a cave in his tank after a few weeks; one with a route into it through the water, so he can go in, but on the surface, so his playmate won't have to drown. he speaks with certainty where the scientists won't, not thinking that eichi wouldn't come back—misshapen and strange, he seemed perfectly wonderful, after all—and, as the days grow longer, as eichi doesn't appear, he begins to break things here and there. drains stuffed with seaweed, the door to his area somehow broken (the card key pad, filled with water and ink), entire swatches of the beach painstakingly pulled into the water with his tentacles when he's left unwatched for too long.
he wants eichi, he explains, whenever he's scolded. when's he coming back? it's already been too long, he has a lot of gifts for him. ]
no subject
he collects shells at the bottom of this tank, of other ones; he collects little trinkets from other biomes he's put into too, when it becomes obvious he has little desire to come out of the sea water of his own. there isn't very much they can do with him, given he can dry out, but fresh water is a painful exercise in breathing. he can live, but it hurts,
but no one interests him the same way.
besides, there's children on the way, if it all works out. he asks for a cave in his tank after a few weeks; one with a route into it through the water, so he can go in, but on the surface, so his playmate won't have to drown. he speaks with certainty where the scientists won't, not thinking that eichi wouldn't come back—misshapen and strange, he seemed perfectly wonderful, after all—and, as the days grow longer, as eichi doesn't appear, he begins to break things here and there. drains stuffed with seaweed, the door to his area somehow broken (the card key pad, filled with water and ink), entire swatches of the beach painstakingly pulled into the water with his tentacles when he's left unwatched for too long.
he wants eichi, he explains, whenever he's scolded. when's he coming back? it's already been too long, he has a lot of gifts for him. ]