Elaera slowly started to regret draping her wet shirt over her - the water was now soaking into her silk vest she wore underneath, and it'd make the fabric stiff and uncomfortable against her skin. Sighing, she let the worry flow out of her.
Comfortable clothes are the least of my concern on a deserted island, she thought. The worry that stuck with her, though, was: How am I going to get out of here? Though she'd gotten by quite well these past few months - she had her own shack built in the forest, and scavenging the seashore had found her some quite useful tools - she was getting
sick of crab. When it came to seafood, she preferred fish, squid, and octopus, and only the coconuts were stopping her from going insane. It even got to the point where she stopped thinking about baked goods as much - something she
loved as much as her father loved the sound of his own voice - and instead was obsessed with meat. Oh, she'd kill for a pig roast.
Elaera felt the sun cease its barrage of heat against her face, meaning only one thing - shade. The shade couldn't have been from a tree, no, they were too far back and trees didn't move.
Living things moved, and living meant
meat. Perhaps a brave boar had followed her out of the jungle? Her muscles tensed for a second, then she sprung to her feet, as quick as a cat, mallet already clenched in her fist, raised high, ready to swoop down on --
A man.
Her arm stiffened, hovering in the air. She didn't eat
men. Or women. Elaera inspected the figure before her. A
human, she realised. She hadn't seen one of those in ages. Her spirits soared when she realised this meant the return of social interaction, then plummeted when she realised this meant the return of
social interaction. With a start, Elaera realised she was still holding the mallet threateningly above the man's head, and lowered it sheepishly to her side, yet still held her hammer's hilt with an iron grip. Her shirt on the sand jumped to the forefront of her mind, and she quickly ducked down and dusted it off, slipping it over her head, the shirt now mostly-dry and mostly-white. Elaera observed the stranger. He was so...
white. His hair, his eyes, his skin. To her, it looked like he'd been sucked of all colour. She was about a head taller than him, and quite a bit wider. Such was the case with most non-Orcs. Elaera, only being a Half-Orc, was actually shorter than most Orcs, but she was hardly with Orcs, so to everybody, she was
tall. She wished she weren't though; it made her stand out too much.
She stood in silence for an awkward moment before realising that she was probably meant to say something at this point. Her long, pointed ears, adopted a dark green hue.
"Elaera!" she shouted, her name slipping out too loudly as her voice stumbled to make herself known as quickly as possible. Trying to appear less threatening, the woman forced a smile, but this came across as a snarl, exposing her tusks more fully.
"Me no--" she started, then corrected her language.
"I won't do you harm," she said in a strained voice, deep and gravelly.
Tulik