Ferris swished air around in his mouth as he looked carefully at the closet. He could smell the polymers in the cloth. It was strange, but it tickled is nose and made it tickle. He looked curiously as Rus left to clothe himself. Clothes, in his opinion, were a strange concept? Why wear fake skin when the ocean gave you your own beautiful skin to walk around in? It made little sense to the merman. Shrugging, Ferris decided to do what the rokea asked. It made him stop and wonder to why he cared whether or not his prisoner was clothed. The grip on his towel slipped, and the male fingered the different fabrics. There were so many. Pouting slightly, grey eyes shone as they found a soft, lavender shirt and woolly boxers along with shorts. Curiously he slid them on. It felt a little heavy, but he didn't seem to mind it all that much. 

As Rus came back, Ferris' eyes darted towards him. Slowly, he sat down near a circular ship window. He placed a silky hand on the Plexiglas. He could see the surface of the ocean, tossing and turning with calming waves. He wanted nothing more than to jump in there, his scales ripping the cloth to shreds and freeing him. He sighed. Though he wasn't in a barred cage, he was still trapped. There was nothing he could do but comply to whatever Rus told him to do. If he was wounded too much, the ocean might not recognize him anymore. Then he wondered if the rokea would ever let him go. 

"You know?" He responded thoughtfully. This rokea wanted everything, he would try his best to meet the demands given. "Seahorses are really cute, aren't they? I mean, I used to talk to one once. He was really nice, even though he couldn't talk back. You know, you can see someone's eyes laughing? It was like that." Though Rus probably didn't understand, Ferris was giving him all he had. The seahorse that looked to be made of gold, that he followed up, up, up into the burning sunlight. How he was guided to a kingdom...