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She's the color of the ocean in midwinter, all fathomless depths and dark, wavering shadows; no shallows, here, and no sun-dappled waves. Seaweed-like, the spikes of her neckridges are uneven and yet still graceful, their sloping lines a map of their own making towards the anchor-like weight of her tail. Her wings are darker still, a murky green-black that, if she holds them just right, catches the light as if to reveal long-hidden secrets; a nightmare lost far beneath the briny waves.