[Firo is relatively adaptable to their physical situation—after frantically trying to swim the surface and resigning himself to drowning when he doesn’t make it, he eventually figures out that they can breathe here. For… some reason. He’s not going to think too hard about it, wary that if he does, the spell will break and he’ll drown for real.
If the crushing weight of the water above (don’t think about it) and the lack of air around him (don’t think about it) don’t disturb him for long, one thing does: where the hell is everybody? Information is sparse as he wanders the waters, and he eventually has to admit that this isn’t going to be a quick search. In the meantime, he finds himself roped into helping with the jellyfish. Maybe it’ll ingratiate him with their hosts, maybe it’ll get him money to bribe them, either way, it seems a good plan.
Now the only problem is the implementation. Fellow shepherds may notice that one of their own is having a spat with one his stubborn jellyfish charges:]
Hey, you—get over here—
[He’s been warned. But he reaches out to swat the jellyfish in the direction he wants it to go anyway.
And gets fried for his troubles.
When he regains his senses, he growls at the jellyfish, impotently angry. And very blue.]
You little—
[Point and laugh, y/n?]
B. Gambling, anywhere, any time
[Firo’s not not enjoying playing with the jellyfish, but he’s relieved to see that gambling is alive and well here too. He may be underwater but this is his element. At any point, you can catch him first observing to learn the games and then diving into the action himself—eventually amassing a pile of shells.
He studiously keeps his eyes on the objects of play and away from the mermaids themselves, using only his peripheral vision to pick up clues in body language. Maybe it’s strategy …maybe he’s just really shy, as the observant person may notice a faint pinkness to his cheeks. Underwater fashion is a lot for a 1930s guy to get used to.
In between games, he’ll give a nod of greeting to any Circle member who arrives on the scene.]
You played before?
C. At the far wall, a few days after they arrive
[Firo squints at the message, as if the longer he looks at it, the more it might reveal. Predictably, that’s not the case.
He’s talking to himself but, since he’s not bothering to modulate his volume at all, it might sound like he’s addressing someone.]
Guess we didn’t really help much in the end, huh?
D. Wildcard [ooc: Feel free to hit me up (pm, crowghostie, discord at crowghostie#2437, carrier pigeon, etc.) or just throw something out there if there’s something else you’d like to do!]
Group D
[Firo is relatively adaptable to their physical situation—after frantically trying to swim the surface and resigning himself to drowning when he doesn’t make it, he eventually figures out that they can breathe here. For… some reason. He’s not going to think too hard about it, wary that if he does, the spell will break and he’ll drown for real.
If the crushing weight of the water above (don’t think about it) and the lack of air around him (don’t think about it) don’t disturb him for long, one thing does: where the hell is everybody? Information is sparse as he wanders the waters, and he eventually has to admit that this isn’t going to be a quick search. In the meantime, he finds himself roped into helping with the jellyfish. Maybe it’ll ingratiate him with their hosts, maybe it’ll get him money to bribe them, either way, it seems a good plan.
Now the only problem is the implementation. Fellow shepherds may notice that one of their own is having a spat with one his stubborn jellyfish charges:]
Hey, you—get over here—
[He’s been warned. But he reaches out to swat the jellyfish in the direction he wants it to go anyway.
And gets fried for his troubles.
When he regains his senses, he growls at the jellyfish, impotently angry. And very blue.]
You little—
[Point and laugh, y/n?]
B. Gambling, anywhere, any time
[Firo’s not not enjoying playing with the jellyfish, but he’s relieved to see that gambling is alive and well here too. He may be underwater but this is his element. At any point, you can catch him first observing to learn the games and then diving into the action himself—eventually amassing a pile of shells.
He studiously keeps his eyes on the objects of play and away from the mermaids themselves, using only his peripheral vision to pick up clues in body language. Maybe it’s strategy …maybe he’s just really shy, as the observant person may notice a faint pinkness to his cheeks. Underwater fashion is a lot for a 1930s guy to get used to.
In between games, he’ll give a nod of greeting to any Circle member who arrives on the scene.]
You played before?
C. At the far wall, a few days after they arrive
[Firo squints at the message, as if the longer he looks at it, the more it might reveal. Predictably, that’s not the case.
He’s talking to himself but, since he’s not bothering to modulate his volume at all, it might sound like he’s addressing someone.]
Guess we didn’t really help much in the end, huh?
D. Wildcard
[ooc: Feel free to hit me up (pm,