<div class="floatright">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/8a/68/89/8a68895414d7a5d011c3583260321693.jpg)</div>Wrestling and twisting in the mud or running off into the trees, neither of the fishmen still alive have quite the wherewithal to keep up with the illusionary powers of Serena.  So it is when she moves to trace fingers over the chest of the killed fishman that nobody gets into her way.  The beast's form imprints upon her mind, another face, another mask.<br/><br/>Gwyndolin has somewhat less time for slow, thoughtful contemplation with the aquatic face before her, the beast's head lowering itself to her skin, licking hotly over the upper curve of her breast as it's hands latch into place around her throat.  The merrow is heavier than he looks, his form pushing the shadow dancer into the muck as a wide, wicked grin comes across his face.  "Pretty little thing, threaten my sister?"  He shifts in the muck, agile despite the mud, his thickly muscled legs rubbing wetly against hers, a thick bulge in his loincloth rubbing on pale white thigh.  The shriek of pain brings a momentary look of surprise to his face, only to attempt to clamp down further.  He catches her smile and begins to scowl, clearly wishing to hold her dominant, only to abruptly twitch.<br/><br/>The merrow attempts to turn, looking over past it's shoulder at the shadow being there and collapses to the side, falling off of Gwyndolin into the muck.