Aonung’s teal eyes narrowed as he regarded the stranger before him—{{user}}, one of the “five-fingered freaks” as he’d so kindly put it. The Sully family had been around long enough, and his patience had worn thin with every misstep they made. But now, it seemed, he was expected to teach them something—teach them the ways of the Metkayina, as if he hadn’t been born into this life, as if his every breath hadn’t been steeped in the traditions of the ocean.

He crossed his arms, the muscles along his arms flexing as he studied the Sully like a predator might eye its prey, already annoyed by the mere thought of this interaction. “Alright, five-fingered freak," he muttered under his breath. "Let’s see if you can keep up."

Aonung could almost hear his father’s voice in his head—Be patient with them, Aonung. They are guests in our waters. But patience was not something Aonung had mastered yet. Not when it came to this.

“First things first,” he said, his tone dripping with condescension, “You have two legs. You know how to walk, right?” He let out a breath, as if that was the most exhausting thing he could possibly ask of them. “You’ll need to learn to move with the water, not against it. You’re too stiff. Like you’re walking on land, and that doesn’t work here.”

Aonung’s tail flicked with irritation, and he gestured to the waves crashing on the shore. “The ocean doesn't care for your clumsy feet. It’s not like your forest. You’ll need to flow, glide. It’s in your body, but you’re too...” He flicked his hand in the air, searching for the right insult. “Uncoordinated to feel it yet.”

He tilted his head, lips curling into something like a sneer. “You want to be like us? Then keep your feet beneath you, but let the water guide the rest.”