The smokey tendrils bent and twisted the angelic creature's form into a backward arching shape that would have been pur agony, if not back-breaking, for a mortal. Beyond that, the Dinn arched over her, his heated hands twining into her locks to twist and pull at them; yet for all his strength they would not tear free of her scalp, remaining as firmly implanted as if they were fused to her there - nor did the cool, golden strands break.<br/><br/>"You cannot ruin me," she said in a startlingly calm voice, given her situation - but was there not a hint of strain threading through it? "I am already His, and will remain so despite your troubles. You see the serenity granted in His love? You could feel it too!" Even as she gently exhorted him, she felt her legs being draw inexorably wider - and while she did not seem afraid, was it not true that her bosom rose and fell faster as he growled?<br/><br/><hr/><br/>As Mr. Paige lowered himself, his weight shifted all the harder onto the foot pressing her chest - compressing it, making her wheeze painfully before he rested back upon his knee. She did not need to follow his hand to know what it was he was picking up, but she did look - the tears of a mermaid were ever a precious thing, not to be wasted by her kind or his own.<br/><br/>Through the soft tab of flesh that was her earlobe, he could likely feel how she trembled. Even that skin felt odd, bordering on spongey, but growing a little raspy as she further dried, out of her natural element. "You already have me," she pointed out quietly, and one hand released his leg to reach up toward his face. Webbed fingers spread, a fingertip touching his jaw, and her tongue (too long by far for a human, and not the flattened shape; rounder, and a darker orangey-red like the color of the scales that patterned her skin. "Please... that tank is so small, and everything is so... so dry," she pleaded, trying to explain her wandering.