Tib The Terrible

"He was tall. Ironically enough, he wore a mask himself, though it was made of metal. Most of his body seemed to be reinforced somehow." Raising her sleeve to her lips, she pursed her lips a moment before continuing. 

Tib filed away as much as he could understand. His mother was tall -- hell, he was tall -- so he knew what that was. His whole head was a mask (though he was sure the quincy's didn't look like his own). And he had tripped over, gnawed on, and ran into metal too many times not to know what it was.

As his form began to glow, she took a step back, giving plenty of room for the transformation that left her tilting her head back to meet his gaze. Though his speech was somewhat broken, he got the point across well enough. 

On reflex she took a step back, grasping her skirt with her free hand after he bumped into her leg. Sung-Sun expected him to bounce up, to run around as he usually did, but the way he fixed her with such a fierce gaze left her shifting uncertainly. 

He would stare a while longer.

The movements, though small, manage to catch her eye. With a quick glance to the side, the fifty-sixth watched as Tib attempted to creep out unseen. It was dangerous for him to being wandering around on his own like that, and she was sure Harribel hadn’t been the one to let him outside. A soft sigh was heard from below her sleeve.

Tib didn't really see her, his nose planted and sifting through the sand. The small, it was getting stronger, and the sharklet lashed his tail in territorial irritation.

After all the fuss yesterday, she was pleased to see things looked relatively peaceful. There was never any way of knowing just how long a calm would last here, of course, but still—

Tib grunted, the smell of Quincy lingering in the air. He wasn't too far from her, just a tiny little shark who'd weedled his way outside while the tres wasn't looking.

                                                            You’re gone

HEAVY.

Silence.