"No, no, NO you stupid girl! You stir clockwise three times before reversing! And you mix in the seaweed while stirring - you don't pause! It's not that hard," sneered Ursula, her excessively plump figure swaying as she paced back and forth on large, squelching tentacles. As Ariel corrected her mistakes, the cauldron began emitting wisps of purple rather than grey. The muttering sea witch moved further away, eyeing Ariel with a mixture of displeasure and delight - true love it had not been, but why correct the girl when she had become so deliciously corrupt? 
Ariel's blue eyes flickered with anxiety as she peered into the potion once more, watching the swirling colors blend and separate with each tug of the large spoon. A touch of strangeness cooled the nape of her neck, drawing Ariel's attention downward to the seashell that lay pale between her breasts. It was nearly empty, meaning she'd have to surface soon lest she lose her utterly commonplace voice - a boon, perhaps, that the shell would make all voices a plain female sort rather than keeping a booming male baritone or a child's pure alto. A hint of rage flitted across the mermaid's face as she looked at Ursula, fruitlessly seeking the other seashell that had absorbed her true voice. What Ursula had done with it she never said, though Ariel had slowly decided it had not been lost or bartered away.

 The hours of training drained Ariel, all the faster because she didn't naturally [i]pop[/i] with magic. Her voice had been her siren's call and it in had been the magic of her people, though she had the secondary ability of appearing monstrous when feeling threatened or angry. Beyond that, she required the frustrating aid of a bracelet and dagger to steal voices and switch from tail to legs - a fact that Ursula assured her was a sign of magical ineptness, though later she'd grudgingly admitted it made it easier for multiple uses. Ariel soon found herself swimming for the shore, needing to seek out another unfortunate soul to steal. The knife was in its sheath, attached to a slightly loose belt that balanced on the tilt of her hips.

Fishing into a small pouch attached to her belt, Ariel pulled out a plain and old looking bracelet. As she felt the rough brush of sand against her tail, she locked it about her wrist and shuddered as a burst of pain engulfed her lower half. The transformation was the most painful part, as if a sword was being thrust through her, with the pins and needles afterwards to remain until she shifted back. Her mouth snapped shut as she lost the ability to breath underwater, pale legs shoving against the sandy floor to propel her head about the surface. Peering cautiously around her, the nude mermaid hurried to the shore and crept to her hiding spot. Shoving a couple rocks aside, she dragged out a rather hefty sack and began to dress in the clothing she'd stolen: fitted grey leggings under a gown of turquoise and silver . It wasn't something she'd have paid for, but it was nice for having been stolen. A plain, worn black cloak and weathered boots made her seem more rustic than the dress otherwise proclaimed.

Dressed, with knife hidden in the folds of her cloak, Ariel struck westward towards a nearby coastal town. It was a amusing, she couldn't help but think, that the knife selected tarnished souls for her to steal the voices from happened to have formed a strong correlation between tarnished souls and sailors. White teeth flashed in a smile that was cold, slightly bitter, and altogether unpleasant. She was sure she'd find equally blackened hearts beyond, but with her time limit exploring so far seemed too risky when there was no reason behind it. Touching the chain, Ariel wondered if she couldn't find that dark fellow and request another deal for something a little more long lasting. [i]But then I'd owe him more - not sure I care to be a slave to his whims any more than I am.[/i] 

Tossing her head as if to dispel all the troubling thoughts circling round and round her skull, Ariel approached the town who was yet unaware that a predator had been killing their sailors over the past year, due to the high traffic and tendency for many strangers and infrequent lingering. If there was pain lancing through her legs with every step until her stomach felt queasy and her skin swinging violently between fire and ice, the woman showed no outward signs except for a pleasantly curious expression.

[hider=The dress][IMG]http://i57.tinypic.com/np5iqe.jpg[/IMG][/hider]