"I enjoy featherss..." A childish proclamation, but he knew the metaphor in a more literal sense. Those soft, airborne items that occasionally floated from the gulls-- and how he loved those creatures. Freedom incarnate. "You do not know how to handle hiss featherss yet, do you, Prince Amanti?" Jin-Wei's feathers were gaurded and sharpened, razors instead of soft, plush plumage-- Sindre had to wonder why such people acted as they did. Rose-tinted-rubies followed the summery prince, and even curiously piqued the inside of the wardrobe. Why did the people on land dress like that? Why did they dress at all, was it compulsory? Why, his very palms pressed against the glass, curious. "...Hm." Another thing to mentally note away. "You ssometimess find clothess in the ssea. Ussually in recent sshipping dissassterss, but very little look like they do." He had been to many a ship-wreck, and being primarily carniverous, he thought it best not to tell Prince Amanti why. 

It would only be all the more reason to keep him inside his fish-bowl, as it were.

"Why would you wissh relationss with Dragonss? They sseem sso..." He fished (aha) for the words, but he didn't know any that could relate to the reptiles. He... admitably, hadn't met any until these past few days, and that alone bowed his head some. "I ssupposse I sshouldn't judge." Perhapss it was just the tenacious crowned prince that made their species look bad-- after all, merfolk wern't all the same, either. He was sure the Fae wern't a hive species, too. 

...Hm. The Fae.

"I'm ssure you do misss your home, Prince Amanti. It musst feel sso sstrange, leaving behind everything you know, to appear in a place like this." True, Sindre himself had been through just that, but there was a difference in their predicaments, something that the merman seemingly longed for. "But it musst be wonderful. To travel and ssee the world. You will have sstoriess that only you could tell your family, that musst be worth the travelling?" To think of little one's around a fire, as they did on the beaches, and exchanging stories... how Sindre wished he could have been apart of that. Sharing banter and laughter, thrills and scares, there seemed nothing more wholesome than to listen to a traveller. To pretend to witness their tale, first hand. 

"Don't worry, I'll be fine here." He had his own little plan to throw into motion. What was Prince Amanti doing? He was ontop of that raised... thing, he wasn't sure what humanoid's beds were, but he seemed to be creating some form of mock shelter with it. Naturally, Sindre was trying to peer over to see WHAT exactly this Prince of Fae was trying to accomplish. Why did humanoids hide themselves when slipping out of garements? "Like a Prince." ...Was that the right compliment to use? Sindre didn't know. What was Prince Amanti supposed to look like? He had no judgement of it-- but if it came from this abode's wardrobes, it must have been fine to wear it-- Home. "..Ah, about that.." ...Did he want to go home? "We can conversse about it at a later date..." Truth be had, perhaps Sindre did not want to go home at all. "Take care, Prince Amanti."

= = = 

What a Grand Dining Hall indeed. Etched with coils of scales, gaping jaws and outstretched talons, light by what appeared to be a ball of swirling fire and blazing flames, almost akin to a chandelier. A table stretched, the same scheme as anywhere else in the kingdom, aligned with food fit for a large party's. Skewered... animals, who knew what THOSE were, with various, much less creature-killing soups and rice options, cubes of beef, slices of chicken, pork bao, noodles fried with vegetables of many shapes, colours and sizes, with small, ornamental teapots filled with a green, herbal smelling mixture. A tanned hand reached for the dumplings, but two sticks swiftly came down to slam against his palm. "Control yourself. Our guest has yet to arrive." Oh bother. Emperor was at the scolding again, but even he had to wonder where their guest had gone... was he weary from travelling? "You did inform him of where the dining hall was, Jin-Wei?" No, no he hadn't, he was too busy reaching for the dumplings again.

"Of course I did. What little faith you have in me, Baba."

Thwack! It wasn't wise to sit next to Emperor Yao Long at dinner time, evidently. 

"I won't have you causing our guest any trouble, Jin-Wei. You're to stay in your own quarters tonight-- and shut the door for once in your life. You startle the chambermaids." All that received was a shrug-- and all THAT received was a firm whack of the chop-sticks again, and a growl that was very much inhuman. It resonated and rumbled deeper than most voices, that of a Dragon's solitary warning to his young. "You will stay in your chambers, and should anyone find you outwith them, your punishment will be dire." That was THAT. Just wait until the old fuddy duddy Emperor found out about the black ink across the door. Someone was sure to report it, but then, the Prince would have known that when he was sprawling it over the doorway. It wasn't the first time priceless architecture had suffered a noir-make over. Nor the last Amanti would see Jin-Wei's disagreeable side.


= = =

SMASH!

Perhaps he hadn't anticipated the tank to turn into tiny, sharp shards quite as much as it had, but many of the shrapnel was washed away under the flood of water his tank had created. He was out now. The small pieces of glass did scrape against his skin, fewer bits still, stuck into his torso, but they were minor injuries. Nothing he couldn't pluck out with his sharpened nails. His breath suddenly felt elated and half-full, the tendon of his tail had, rather painfully, split into two and saw to it that he writhed and wriggled to bare it's transformation... but he'd done it. He was out now, and pale, blood dappled flesh already unsteadily fell towards the doors that contained clothing. He chose plainer attire, a pair of would be baggy trousers made of ochre silks-- perhaps they'd fit someone of a smaller stature, but in his legged form, Sindre stretched to six foot and four inches. A friendly, if somewhat lanky creature. None of the shirts seemed to fit all that well, not until he got to the last one, silken and white, it contended his skin colour.

...What was the deal with the buttons though? Frog clasps, which were their true name, but they seemed needlessly complicated. Sindre decided just to leave them at that-- what... what was that noise? It... dare he say it almost... sounded like... 

"I can't. I'm ssorry." No. He had decided how it was to be from now on-- and it didn't involve the ocean anymore. Bare-foot, the balcony felt dangerous when it was traversed with wet feet. Sindre awaited on the balcony, to see if his poorer-eye sight could pique anything interesting in dusk. "..." Maybe he should have said goodbye, instead.