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Cutie Mark: Clearwater
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Foxern
Foxern's Gallery (48)

Cutie Mark: Jeta

Cutie Mark: Hoarfrost

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by Foxern
Drew another one. This time, it’s Jeta’s Cutie Mark. I’ve drawn her quite a bit, but never without the armor as of yet, so yeah. Also wrote a story for this one, too:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jeta pried the board from the door very carefully, unsure of what was behind it. It never hurt to be too careful when working this deep. She hadn’t been able to get in through the little window beside the door, but there could be some other entrance into the ship that she didn’t know about. What she had seen through the window was lots of things that shined in her little sea-light. Shinies were what she was down here for.
She slowly cracked the door and gave a bubbled yelp as a skeleton pushed it open the rest of the way. She peeked over from the side of the ship, staring at it, and the dagger embedded in its ribcage. She gave a bit of cough and brushed some imaginary underwater-dirt from her arms and belly before making her way back to the door. The dagger was well rusted from the salt water, which was annoying. Daggers were worth a bit of trade to passing ships.

The work of a salvager was easy work, especially for a seapony. And it was even easier for a merpony such as herself. She absentmindedly brushed the skeleton out of the way with her large tail fin as she looked into the room. Her nose scrunched, not liking the sight of so many dead ponies. It was impossible to tell if they were merchants, or pirates, or some other sea fairer, but they were sure dead. Dead suited her just fine. These old ships were full of dead.

They were also full of shinies. She moved into the room slowly, lifting up her sea-light for a better look around. There on the table were the shinies. There was a bit of hesitation as she moved into the room, watching corners and looking for holes in the floor or behind overturned furniture that could let something big into the room. But the ship was intact, or at least this room was.

The sea-light floated softly beside her as she went over the desk. Coins, glass things, anything that wasn’t terribly rusted or looked valuable, she grabbed them all and stuffed them into her seabag. Then she started going through drawers; ruined papers, more glass things, rusted bits, more coins. After stuffing those into her bag she swam around the room slowly, looking behind furniture and under things.

The sea was already reclaiming the room, little fish, barnacles, crustaceans and anemones. She found a few more coins on some of the skeletons, as well as more rusted weapons. Had it been a mutiny? Why else would the board up the door? That was weird. She had seen that on a few ships she had scavenged but never knew why. The ponies she traded to never wanted to stay around too long to chat.

They were afraid of her. Something about seaponies stealing their souls with a kiss, or something. She was never quite sure. She also didn’t know if it was true. The other merponies avoided her…on good days. They would often tease and mock her, or worse, on the bad days. They didn’t like her for a multitude of reasons.

She paused as she came across a small box. She hesitated as she picked it up, it was warm; almost hot to the touch. She turned it over in her hooves before stuffing it into her bag as well. With a shudder she left the room, looking around as she rose above the ship. There was more to salvage, but it was getting late. Or at least it felt like it was getting late, she was bad at keeping track of time when she was underwater, but either way, the sun would be coming up soon and she wanted to be home before that.

It wasn’t that far to her home, the shallow sea cave beside a beach. It was rare for anypony to be on the beach, but she occasionally saw a fisherpony or some seaponies making their way down the coast. She wished that they weren’t so afraid of them. She missed the company of other seaponies. She missed being a seapony.

She flopped onto the mossy rock she called her bed and looked down at her tail fin. It had been eight years since she had had back legs. Eight years since she could walk, since she could run, or even sit properly. Who would have guessed that she would miss sitting? But they had been taken from her on that forsaken day of death and fire, and she had been given a tail fin and a new life. The heat of the box had reminded her again of that day. Of the heat. Of the pain. Of the loss. She dug the box from the bag and threw it into the water.

Keywords
pony 102,196, magic 23,414, little 10,338, my 6,476, friendship 4,923, is 3,149, cutie 1,537, mark 840, jeta 10
Details
Type: Picture/Pinup
Published: 7 years, 11 months ago
Rating: General

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