Unicorns can stab one another, though they are careful when dueling, often dancing around each other and tease with false starts to avoid breakage, as their horns are rather thin.
4K notes
·
View notes
Abaia
Imagine, if you will, that you’ve gone on a quiet vacation to the islands of Fiji. Feel the sand under your toes, the sun on your skin, the smell of saltwater. You take an excursion, and find a beautiful, deep lake, surrounded by lush greenery. It’s a sweltering day, and the lake looks so inviting.
You walk into the lake, the cool water stinging pleasantly as you go deeper. Eventually you’re floating, unable to feel the ground beneath you. It’s calm, soothing. The local birds sing, the breeze rustles the leaves… you’re relaxed enough to let your eyes close and just drift…
Your feet touch a slippery rock, slick with grime from centuries of being submerged. You pay it no mind… until you notice the layer of grime is thick enough to give, making the rock feel almost squishy. You open your eyes. The birds have stopped singing.
You realize that you aren’t touching the rocking. It’s touching you.
The Abaia. A massive eel of Melanesian mythology, said to live at the bottom of freshwater lakes. The legend comes from the Fiji, Vanuatu, and Solomon Islands, though the exact location varies. There’s not really a specific size given, but, for an idea of what we’re talking about, the average American Eel is 16-33 inches long and about 2.5 pounds. So… bigger than that. Much bigger.
The legend of the Abaia poses it as the guardian of the lake it dwells in, protecting the inhabitants from humans looking to harm them. If a fisherman were to try and get his daily catch from the lake, or if an ignorant tourist were to throw their trash in it, the Abaia will unleash its wrath. Thrashing and twisting, it causes impressive waves that will claim the life of the perpetrator, dragging them down to the depths to remain with the great eel.
There is another version of this legend that claims the Abaia holds control over the weather via magic. The story goes that a fisherman discovered a bountiful lake, full of critters and creatures to sate his village’s hunger. He led the village to this lake, and has them help plunder it of life. The Abaia, upon seeing this, causes a torrential rainstorm, wiping out the village and drowning everyone who had harmed the creatures. The Abaia is often depicted as a motherly being to the inhabitants that share its home.
As someone who knows the basics about various eels, I have to wonder if there is some electrical aspect to this creature. Perhaps its ability to cause storms is caused by a powerful electrical charge. According to the Smithsonian’s National Zoo and Conservation Biology Institute, the Electric Eel has three organs — the main organ, the Sach’s organ, and the Hunter’s organ — that produce electric impulses used for defense, communication, navigation, and hunting. At 6-8 feet long, this eel can generate up to 800 volts of electricity. Is the Abaia electric? Being so massive in size, could its electrical shock cause a storm? It’s unlikely, yes, but an interesting thought to consider.
785 notes
·
View notes
I feel like Capitano's the kind of person who sleeps in sometimes, and everybody is just too afraid of him to wake him up so he is genuinely late and just happens to be scary enough to make it work for him
Since he's so imposing and stuff his entrance is always dramatic to the rest (they think he’s fashionably late on purpose), meanwhile he’s like,, ‘uh oh’
Bonus points for Abyss Creature/Cosmic Horror!Capi who can't be bothered to give a shit about time in general and finds the concept useless at best, since he's ageless and all that
63 notes
·
View notes