"Fish monsters, yeah. They attack us relentlessly, but...I don't know if that makes them monsters. Sometimes I think we might just be in their way."
It's something Eight's always wrestled with. Sure they swarm and devour, but they also use tools, and build complicated transportation, and...maybe they like music too? They never change course when they see squads of Inkfish with weapons on the horizon, even when they have the whole ocean to do it. Is it mindless instinct that drives them on strict paths or do they like scrapping with squids and octopus enough to seek it out?
...That might be a little too philosophical for Jack, actually. Best to let him lead the questions. Speaking of...
Eight shouldn't have left his brush tied to the back of his bike. It'd be so much easier to demonstrate. Instead, he reaches behind him, feeling for the little gland under his clothes. When he pulls his hand back around, His fingers are covered in a bright, thick substance, which he holds up to show Jack.
"My body produces this ink that I can drain into a tank and use as ammo or to swim through. Every Inkfish can do it back home, but here...I think I'm the only one. I think...normal is relative here. Or maybe...nonexistent? I don't really know."
no subject
It's something Eight's always wrestled with. Sure they swarm and devour, but they also use tools, and build complicated transportation, and...maybe they like music too? They never change course when they see squads of Inkfish with weapons on the horizon, even when they have the whole ocean to do it. Is it mindless instinct that drives them on strict paths or do they like scrapping with squids and octopus enough to seek it out?
...That might be a little too philosophical for Jack, actually. Best to let him lead the questions. Speaking of...
Eight shouldn't have left his brush tied to the back of his bike. It'd be so much easier to demonstrate. Instead, he reaches behind him, feeling for the little gland under his clothes. When he pulls his hand back around, His fingers are covered in a bright, thick substance, which he holds up to show Jack.
"My body produces this ink that I can drain into a tank and use as ammo or to swim through. Every Inkfish can do it back home, but here...I think I'm the only one. I think...normal is relative here. Or maybe...nonexistent? I don't really know."