Prompt 022: Tactile
“Well,” said Waterlog, “don’t that be a queer sight.”
The Sea Team crouched at the edge of the pier and studied the molten ripples beneath them. Oceanglide knew, technically, it was perfectly safe, but even so he felt misgivings at the sight. It was instinctive. Seas didn’t look like that. He looked up, and repressed a shiver at the brilliant shimmers flashing out to the horizon. When both suns rose, it was going to be blinding.
“I still don’t get where it all came from.” Stormcloud sounded critical, as if it was a tactical choice he disapproved of. “We supposed to go out in that?”
“One may assume so.” Oceanglide glanced at him. Stormcloud was edging backwards a bit. “Is that some cause for concern?”
“No. I dunno. I mean… you sure this ain’t gonna lock solid on our hulls? What if we wind up cased in this slag?”
Oceanglide was fairly certain that couldn’t happen. But he knew his brother’s fears even better. He turned back and knelt forward. He dipped his hands into the rippling metal, felt it part and envelop him, soft but pulsing smoothly. When he lifted them again it parted and rolled off his gauntlets in blobby quicksilver drops. He was aware of Stormcloud peering by his side, a hand on his shoulder as if to pull him back. Loyalty went more than one way.
“In this climate it will remain molten, you see,” he remarked casually. “It is not so unlike water, in f-”
Waterlog had his own approach. There was a whumphing splash of brown and silver before their faceplates. Both went sprawling backward in shock, mercury spattering down onto their armour. Oceanglide sighed. Stormcloud glowered at the hovercraft sitting comfortably on the tiny waves.
“To the high seas, me hearties,” Waterlog said cheerily. “The sea o’slag’s just fine.”