Medium to large bird, grey or white in feather color, with black markings in its head or wings. Harsh wailings, long beaks. Carnivorous diets, predatory and or opportunistic feeders. Almost four pounds in mass, thirty inches in wingspan, sixty inches in length. A delicious meal, flying up in the sky, tracing circles and patterns, squawking as it repeated the same cycle, the same loop over and over again.
Kovic watched it through the night, and now that a new sun lighted the day, he kept watching. It was a lonesome journey what he currently experienced, a creature incapable of swimming, trapped in a rowboat with no oars. The current of the ocean drug his boat away, the waves rocking his bed as his blue eyes longed for the shore. The hunger had grown intense, as intense as the sunlight that beamed upon his stark naked flesh. His ability had been triggered long ago, the mutations having spawned in his mouth and arms. What were once his limbs had now split into a sort of tentacles, thumping at the wooden surface by themselves as Kovic had almost no control over them. Once his tongue, it had mutated into a tentacle by itself, lacking the suction cups just as much as his newfound limbs did, but compensating in a strong musculature and a slimy secretion. It was this new tongue what lashed out into the sky like a whip, only to meet its end and fall upon Kovic’s lethargic face.
By itself, the tentacle that sprouted from his mouth moved to the surface of the water and suckled on the liquid, only for Kovic to gag on it for the thirty-second time since his aimless sojourn began. It was still salty, no matter how far his boat was dragged. Was this gigantic mass of water so full of salt? It was like licking a sweaty armpit, kink Kovic had satiated for the many peers he had latched on to. He missed a peer, its company, the act he had to perform to satisfy it. He could eat a peer, now that he was as hungry as he was. How much longer could he go on? The morning had barely come – would he make it to the evening? Would eating his foot be enough to satisfy him? Perhaps he should try, at least to satiate the furious growls coming from his stomach.
Large bird, white in feather color, black markings on its head and wings. Harsh wailings. Carnivorous, opportunistic feeders. Its meat, tender. Its bones, fragile. Four pounds of delicious meat. Tracing circles, drawing a secret alphabet in the sky, mocking him, teasing him. The hunger and inactivity had set him into a lethargy, a sort of procrastination Kovic had never experienced before, his eyes blinking as slow as his rowboat rocked with the waves, the day stretching into weeks, seasons, cycles, arcs. An endless torture, an eternal torment.
He felt it, in that moment. The whisper, the hint, the clue, the idea. An intent, an emotion, drilling through his skull, even present in his stomach as it was twisted and pointed towards the sea. Head barely able to turn to its side, the seat serving as his pillow, elevating his head enough to spot the never-ending undulating surface of the blue mass of water. Below its surface is when he saw it, those wide open eyes, bright in hue, staring with utmost devotion. Humanoid, female, dark hair, exotic features, bizarre. Heavy mutations below the waist, golden patterns on approximately sixteen tentacles. Abnormal, uncommon. Extraordinary length, colossal mass, perhaps an optical illusion produced by a liquid barrier. A large creature, a good meal.
Kovic’s heavily mutated tongue lashed out towards the creature, as if its length would be enough to capture it, strangle it and consume it – it failed. However, a response was seen, a lone tentacle from the creature trying to reach out towards Kovic. A greeting, an addressing, a salute, perhaps coincidence. Kovic repeated his previous action, and the creature replied once again the same way. Not a coincidence – contact, interaction, communication. It stared still, and Kovic stared back, any of his knowledge being insufficient to assess the situation.
Be it fortune or misfortune, Kovic’s boat gained speed suddenly before it crashed against a lonesome rock in the middle of nowhere. Being shot out of his death bed, body clashing against stone, Kovic’s adrenaline kicked in as he felt his waist dipping into water. The mutated tentacles he had for arms grasped to the surface, the limbs mutating rabidly, developing bone parts that created traction, hanging to the rock by pure instinct and managing to climb on top with many grunts and pants. The pain from the crash was minimal now that he was certain of his immediate survival, although the boat had been reduced to debris that floated with the currents. His long term survival had just been drastically diminished, and the extinction of his race was likely to occur here, in this curiously flat piece of rock in the middle of an ocean he couldn’t traverse.
The longing stare into the remains of the boat was interrupted, as instead Kovic’s eyes captured something far more interesting. Frames, figures, and tentacles in the water, watching, staring. Three of them, watching with bright eyes, waiting for something. Kovic waited too, and soon he received it all at once – a collaborative ovation, telepathically delivered by whatever magic they were using, forcing his mind to accept their devotion, their adoration, their respect. And as he watched, his mutations grew stronger, more virulent, and their ovations grew at par with them.
Creature of hunger, a monster of vileness, adored like a Leviathan by a small tribe of Mer.