Thalor's gills gave a quick flutter, and a faint, dusky lavender hue crept up his neck and across his cheekbones. He looked away for a split second, his webbed fingers nervously tracing the surface of the lake.
"Usually... we mark closer to the gills," he murmured, his voice dropping into a shy, melodic hum. "On the shoulder or the base of the throat. It is the most common way."
"Then why my ankle?" I asked, drifting closer until my soaked top brushed against his.
He looked back at me, his blush deepening until his face was nearly the color of the sunset.
"I... I like your legs, Arinya. They are strong, and they have carried you across the world to find me. I think they are very pretty."
I blinked twice and then laughed, the sound echoing softly around the lake. The solemnity of the moment broke just enough for a bit of my old self to peek through.
"You're impossible," I murmured, feeling the heat rise to my own cheeks.
