What's that fishy smell...(Dart)

Luna hummed happily as she walked down the beach, humming a tune that she had heard from walking past the music stores on her way there from Malan'tai's place where she now lived "California here we come~ Right back where we started from~" she sung softly, walking to her usual beach spot which was in a circle of rocks, suddenly her nose crinkled as a strong stench filled the air, walking to her usual spot she suddenly screamed, a fishing net had washed ashore, bringing with it some dead, rotting fish.

Being a mermaid the sight of a net induced fear in the poor girl, hiding behind the rocks as she waited to see if someone would come along...now how was she going to be her mermaid self in piece...

Scapegoat sat on a breakwater which jutted out into the sea. It was cemented together, and mostly consisted of aggregate to discourage people from venturing across. A relentless Summer sun baked the rocks so that they were scolding to touch. The ghoul listened to the soft swells of softly swishing sea; a particular tongue twister which he was practicing and failing at currently. A trio of gulls arched overhead disrupting his peace with shrill calls. Peering upwards, the ghoul slowly slinked back shoreward. Britain did beaches better.
 
In what he would henceforth refer to as 'his previous life', Vernon was born and bred an Englishman. He'd developed an acute understanding of sarcasm, as well as a fondness for moaning about weather. One of his stereotypical traits was the recognition that all beaches needed a promenade. It was useless watching the sea from where it was most shallow. People should be able to walk a good mile beyond the tide marker, and view its churning waters from there. These foolish Americans didn't even have a helter-skelter! What country ever truly prospered without corkscrew slides?
 
Sand burnt at his naked feet, but the ghoul did not register this discomfort. Instead he sniffed at the salt air and caught a fortuitous scent. Rotting flesh was somewhere nearby. Oh boy! Vernon always loved a scavenger hunt. Hopefully the treasure would be buried under a big 'X'. At once Scapegoat allowed his nose to lead. The trail lead him to a natural alcove. Both eyes were drawn directly to the meal, missing entirely any hidden bystanders.
 
Unable to refuse food, Scapegoat dived right in, selecting his first herring. A tune immediately came to mind as he dug in, "Thou shalt have a fishy, on a little dishy. Thou shalt have a fishy - when the tide comes in~" He was half finished before he realised his mistake. A combination of slurry-like sand and hash-netting had tangled his feet beyond easy extraction. In short - Scapegoat had become catch of the day.
 
"Oi! Geroff! Go pick on a dolphin!"

[OOC: Oh DD I love your Britishness lol.]

Luna had looked surprised when a sudden strange man had dove into the area and started eating up the fish, watching him from the rocks as he became entangled in the net "always look before you leap!" she said in her Scottish accent "you silly sausage, now you'll get dragged away with the tide" she added, trying to think of how to help the greedy...whatever he was...this it seemed this world still had wonders for her to learn about, raw fish she could deal with but rotting? That wasn't her cup of water.

Forget a cure for cancer, scientists the world over needed to first invent the intelligent net. A net that would identify its desired target and only then get clingy. In fact, Scapegoat was sure such a thing already existed. Just he was uncertain whether the 'Hug-in-a-Mug' could snorkel. Oh. And that would require entire schools of mackerel to start drinking Typhoo tea. Perhaps a little less than feasible then. Fish were Tetley drinkers.
 
As Vernon struggled to snap the durable fibres, someone behind him spoke. The ghoul dropped those entangled cords in surprise, twisting round to look in a sort of hopping movement. He was pleasantly surprised to hear a Scottish accent this far from the British Isles. The Scots were reluctant tourists. Their skin didn't tan, it screamed obscenities until it  was out of the reach of that mysterious orb of fire in the sky.
 
She chided him mildly for his one-mindedness. The ghoul nodded thoughtfully in response, “Oh good, I thought something bad would-” Scapegoat froze for a moment in a sudden derp face, “Haaalp!”

Luna chuckled "alright if you insist" she said as she climbed over the rocks and took out a scallop shell from out of her shirt, starting to cut the net with the sharp end of the shell in a sawing motion "next time you have to think of the consequences of doing such a silly thing" she said calmly, although seeming quite nervous around the net.

Once the girl got to work, Vernon nodded a thanks and returned to eating. He could never resist the smell of putrefaction for long, "Consequences are inconsequential. Did you know if it wasn't for consequences, people could do what they wanted? So I try to ignore them. If you hadn't been here I would have ignored my way out of this problem as well. It's a lifestyle choice just usually for a very short life." As a ghoul burdened with immortality, Scapegoat had an outlook which at times bordered on suicidal. Death wasn't a final conclusion to anything in his world. It was just one of those everyday things that made life difficult. Yet it was reversible. And that one factor made Scapegoat a trifle more careless than your typical layman. Even so far as to risk making powerful enemies he could not hope to defend himself against.

A fish skeleton was discarded with a burp. Or at least Scapegoat tried to throw it away, before discovering it had caught onto his finger. He shook his hand harder, succeeding it breaking off a few of the smaller bones but not the main spine, "Hmm. Is my eating bothering you? You seem a bit... how to put it... thingy. You know. Perturbed and apprehensive at the prospect of a perceived misfortunate transpiring." Scapegoat asked, having noticed Luna's skittishness, "Thingy."

Luna just continued to cut the netting with the shell as she listened to Scapegoat then looked up to him when he asked if his eating was bothering her "not at all, I've seen much stranger things" she said happily, trying to ignore the fact that she was basically holding something that she would usually be seen running away from, but the fact that someone else was with her made her more...calmer.

For a time the ghoul said nothing, not entirely sated by her given answer, judging its aftertaste. It was distinctly fruity. By which he meant it was fishy. By which he of course meant it hadn't rung true. Vernon was a dab hand at masking apprehension with positive overtones. Just about any fear could be washed away in a sea of swellarifics and gee wilikers. To summarise, he recognised a certain artificialness in her reassurances reminiscent of his own. Or perhaps it was just a result of her accent mangling the English language. He returned to eating.

The last strand of netting proved resistant to sawing. Whatever chemicals it'd soaked up from the surrounding salt-water were providing it a rock-like quality. Scapegoat looked down upon it with consideration, "That last chord's a toughie, huh." A lightbulb appeared above his head in what he hoped was the metaphorical sense. Else glass was about to smash down on him, "Give it some torsion to weaken it. Like wrapping it round something. Here. Try this."

The ghoul traded places with a tiny whelk before making his way over to a collection of larger rocks. He chose one not as well-rounded as its brethren and began dragging it across the beach to where the net now lay, "You see you tie it to this first. Then the rope will break and I can get free." It was an energy-saving lightbulb...

Luna smiled as she did what Scapegoat suggested, trying her best to get him free as she used the shell edge to cut the last fibers of the net, soon getting him free "alright, all done" she said happily as she looked to Scapegoat with her smile.

The stranger worked diligently until at last those fibres broke. Scapegoat stayed to watch this inevitable conclusion, mostly because it seemed polite. Plus there were still many decomposing fish to devour, "Great. That whelk could have drowned once the tide came in." Picking up the invertebrate in question, Vernon launched it into a cresting wave, "Whoops."

"Anyway. You saved my life. I must now grant you three wishes." It was always nice when people arrived in the nick of time. An experience Vernon hadn't witnessed much lately... Certainly never from the perspective of the savee. Albeit, his mortal peril was a tad exaggerated in this instance, "I'm Scapegoat, by the way. Wotcha."

Luna chuckled "what a strange being you are, my name is Luna, and you don't look like any magical wish granting being to me" she said as she walked up to Scapegoat happily "Scapegoat doesn't sound very magical either" she added as she folded her arms.

Was that an insult? Scapegoat felt it was an insult. Not a malicious one. Like when a store clerk asked you for identification to buy alcohol. Unintentional but so very real. Vernon defended his apparent unmagical visage and name, "I happen to think it sounds very magical. Both me and my brother, Mr Wingardium Leviosa." It was a challenge. Even though he suggested in jest, this Luna would refuse his offer of recourse only on a patronising basis. Scapegoat could too make wishes come true!

"C'mon! Take the wishes. If I can't deliver - what have you lost?" In the words of Top Gear - how hard could it be? He may not make it to the standard of a genie, but Scapegoat felt he could match whizziwig at least. You never knew until you challenged him.

Luna chuckled "alright Mr Scapegoat, I'll play your game, I wish to be able to see my kind, to see mermaids...as far as I'm aware I'm the only one of my kind left...I miss my kind..." she said softly "and I miss my friends, a fairy and a dragon" she said.