chomp chomp -- open

[roman]

[align=center][div style="max-width: 600px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial;"]What fish doesn't understand is why everyone is so bothered by her diet. Do they not hunt and kill mice? Fish? (She chuckles to herself, though no one would be able to tell why). How is an alligator different aside from being the most decadent meat to be found in the swamp? The swamp beast has resided in Tanglewood before it was Tanglewood. Before it was radioactive, before the humans came and left. She simply does what she's always done: play and eat, although she refrains from chomping on the kitties and the puppies because she's afraid of accidentally eating a friend. Too many rules for Fish, she thinks, bobbing her head in agreement to her thought. Pupil-less eyes reminiscent of a teal marble shift over to regard the first arrival: Vilo-kas. "Fish is hungry," remarks the creature with a shrug, a long pink tongue emerging from behind rows of razor sharp teeth to clean crimson blood from her oily black maw. "When Fish is hungry, Fish eats. And Fish likes eatin' gators." For a beast that is similar to a very large and very scaly wolf, her voice is soft and playful--like a child's.

Comically large ears twitch at the sound of Beck, and the water spirit seems to brighten upon spotting her fellow ghostie. Literally. A burst of white light seems to ripple across her color-changing scales, perhaps indicating her joy upon seeing her (unwilling) friend. "Hunted it and killed it, Fish did!" chirps the monster in reply, seeming to misinterpret his exasperation for praise. "Gators are easy-peasy once ya get the hang of it. They can bite real hard, but not open their mouths!" She laughs with glee. "Step on their mouthies and go 'chomp-chomp' on their skulls and then you have lunch and dinner!" Fish fails to grasp that most people don't want to hear a graphic description of how she hunts, but her instinct to please and makes friends urges her to continue, even if it clashes with her obvious lack of social graces. A massive paw bats the air, dismissing Beck's suggestion to eat pre-killed food. "Food tastes better fresh~" Silly, confused Beck.

Although she is a messy eater and non-discriminatory when it comes to dinner, Fish is, more or less, a benevolent creature; playful, friendly, kindhearted. Perhaps her manners would be less abrasive if she had died a little later in life before being reborn as the beast that she is. Unfortunately, her life was fleeting, so a child's soul is permanently locked within the terrifying bulk that is now Fish. What's worse is that she's been allowed to raise herself. A panicked voice draws the monstrous predator's attention from beck, to a tiny poofy kitty. "That is Fish. Fish is a water spirit," she answers, seemingly unfazed by the other's fear. She is used to those sorts of reactions, although she wishes people would be her friend instead of being afraid of her. The carcass has been cleared of edible flesh, and Fish casually begins digging a gator-sized hole in which to stash the remains for later chomping. She glances up from her work when Nayru speaks. She has a pet gator? How fun! "That's okay! Fish doesn't need to eat a lot, plus Fish only like big gators, not baby ones." It was intended to be reassuring, at least.

The last arrival does not win much of Fish's attention, as the girl is busy burying the body of poor Mr. Gator. In fact, it seems like the water dog is no longer paying any attention, but she is. "That's silly!" she chirps with an amused smile, but does not spare a glance towards Iota. "You say you aren't gonna comment but that was a comment! Ha!" she is easy to amuse.