"Yes. Do you need help with something?" Play it off nice and friendly.

My money's on a splinter cell messenger; Prodigal or some other mastermind has their own messenger guild that does work like the official Messengers, but for a political side.

And may or may not pose as Messengers while killing people.

As for the scratched amulet, if it's genuine there are two possibilities: the messenger defected from the official group, or he got it... 'somewhere'.

>>758802

Hm. Former Messenger? Maybe they tried to become one, picked a queer form, and then flunked out somehow. Maybe they lost their Compact. They could be here to pick trouble, or they could just be trying to talk to us.

Get back in his face (try to see what form and shape he has). Stretch your tentacles to make yourself larger so you loom a little over him. Smile. He has no idea what you can do, or how little control you have of your new powers, so do not act threatened (just yet).

"Yuhs I am. Intere'ting brooch there."

NOPE

Throw your head at her face. Suffocate her unconscious. You're not letting an assassin through the door!

Gertrude!5tTWT1eydY 2016/11/15(Tue)15:42 No. 758834 ID: a606da
File 147925332044.png - (161.16KB , 800x600 , lotm63.png )

“Depend on who ih ahking.” I back away slowly, ready to run if I have to. I stretch my tentacles out as much as I can, making myself seem larger, but the figure is somehow still taller than I am.

“Ah… I did not mean to scare you. My apologies.” They shake off their hood. Long, wiry strands of hair tumble out. The person appears to be female, at least based on what I can see of their face. “Please, do forgive my lack of manners. I am a friend.”

“You are?” I point to her brooch. “Intere’ting brooh dere.”

“Hm? Oh, this…” She glances down at her broken amulet, sighing sadly. “It is rather indicative, no? To be honest, I am not a Messenger, per se; I was a Messenger, however, and I would love to be one again.”

“Huh. Can I help you?” I ask, relaxing a little. “Do you want me to deliver a mehhage?”

“No, nothing so complex. I simply require directions.” She smiles. She seems to be extremely exhausted; she’s pale, she sways slightly from side to side, her eyes are surrounded by very dark circles, and her voice is raspy and quiet. “I wish to meet with a Messenger named Lydiri. He is an old friend. Do you know where I might find him?”

>>758834
What is her hair made out of? ...I guess it doesn't matter, you'd have no way of recognizing Prodigal.

Ask for her name, and a meeting place. You'll let him know.

I'm sorry but he's in a different group then I am in today so I'm not sure where exactly he is. Would you like me to give him a message... Oh and a name so he knows who it's from?

And if you're worried about a price I think we can call it even if you tell me how you were a former massager? I honestly didn't know one could leave but you do look like you could blend into a crowd a little better then me.

what a minute, why does this sound like something seth told us. Something about some guy named Prodigal...
>Prodigal looked like a man made out of wires, with an attractive human head.

> but the youngest princess of Tycandora vanished at about the same time that Prodigal joined us

>While he was with us, I’d love to say that he was cruel, that he was a monster, but he wasn’t. He was kind, open-minded, good-humored, and very helpful.

>Prodigal had killed the entire ruling class of Tycandora in one night. Using Speech and his own metallic body, he killed somewhere in the range of eighty-thousand to a hundred-thousand people

>they call him the Wicker Prince nowadays, or Cord, or other names in that same vein.

...for the love of god keep that polite and cheerful look on your face and play the naive kid here who can barely tell their ass from their elbow.

>>758843
Oh, Prodigal was a dude. This isn't him, then. Unless he changed his shape again, but I'm not so sure that's possible, nor would he choose to become female again.

>>758844
Well, right now all we have is long hair and a feminine voice. Let's not discount that possibility.

>>758843
This seems the correct way to treat it. Be polite, offer a solution, but be unable to give her a location.

Maybe introduce yourself in an attempt to get her name in return.

>>758844
Prodigal's body was mostly wire. If he's skilled in shaping it, you could craft false-hair from wire, and wear a mask / overlay his face with extra wire material to fake a female image, probably.

Could also just be some kind of illusion. Prodigal was really skilled in Word-magic, and we already know that can alter perceptions (our paper that was invisible to certain people but not others, for example).

>>758834
Even if it's not Prodigal, this is still sketchy AF. Reveal nothing.

Gertrude!5tTWT1eydY 2016/11/15(Tue)17:41 No. 758888 ID: a606da
File 147926046226.png - (210.75KB , 800x600 , lotm64.png )

“How are you a former Mehhenger? I didn’t know one could leave.”

“Ah. It is not a pleasant story.” She winces. “It involved two philosophies: the first was that of the Messengers, while the second was my own. I betrayed both. I would rather not bore you with any further details.”

“Lydiri ih in a different group dan I am today. I don’t know where he ih, ehactly.” I shake my head. “If you tell me your name, I might be able to work out a time and playe for a meeting.”

I wait for an answer, but she’s silent.

“Do you not want dat?”

“Oh, no, it is a very generous offer. Thank you. I do not mean to be rude, only…” She trails off, looking uncomfortable. “Well, I am sorry to impose conditions when you are being so kind, but… after I tell you my name, will you promise not to be scared of me?”

>What is her hair made out of?

It looks like metallic wire.

As I examine her hair, I notice the strands shifting and bending in odd, snakelike ways.

Talk some more, get one of your octopi to sneak behind her, and SUFFOCATE HER UNTIL SHE STOPS MOVING. I don't care if that's Prodigal or his daughter, just neutralize her before she can talk her way into your house and butcher your new family! You can talk it out when she's in a warded titanium prison cell.

>after I tell you my name, will you promise not to be scared of me?
If you don't do anything scary, I won't be scared, okay?

I think I might have guessed already, though. I don't think there are a lot of ex-messengers.

If she (or he) gives you your name, respond in kind.

Might as well be honest if it's really Prodigal: you don't know if they're ready to forgive. You don't know everything yet, by a lot, by they still seem pretty upset about what happened.

(Assuming of course that Prodigal is being sincere, and this is not a ploy, of course. But we lose nothing by giving him the benefit of the doubt right now, and we lack the means to resist, fight, detail or escape from him anyways if we force a confrontation).

Oh, sweet, merciful lord, it's him.
Her.
Whatever.
Get ready to bolt.

>>758888
uh... ok. As long as you don't do anything to scare me that should be pretty easy

>>758888
Prodigal, right? Tell him you were given a different description. Did he trade it for the power he needed to get his revenge? He must know by now the Messengers want him dead. Does he think it's such a good idea to try to meet with Lydiri?

Well, we can't really control how scared we are, but we can promise to stay and hear them out.

>>758888
Well, not really, because we already know who you are and are already terrified, so that precludes both conditions.
Can we use Words? 'Run' is a word.

Am I allowed to be scared if I just guess, without you telling me? I mean, there aren't very many ex-Messengers made of metal.

That matter of conflicting philosophies seems less boring than you're trying to make it out to be. Maybe you should explain why you're not going to kill me and everyone I care about? Just to keep things balanced, my own reasons for not killing you include, but are not limited to, never having done such a thing before, clumsiness due to inexperience with my mew body, and your comparative invulnerability.

>>758888

The name seems unnecessary at this point. You have some idea of who this might be. And in that case, what have you got to actually be afraid of? If they wanted to harm you, they could have already. They seem to be here to get back in the Messengers' good graces (or at least, get to or at Lydiri).

Whether they're genuinely repentant or they're planning something else is, frankly, not your problem or judgement call to make, and they're not going to hurt you as long as they want to use you. So, you're probably safe, for now. Just carry on as if this was situation normal.

Squish/rub your squid head with an arm tentacle, look a little thoughtful.

"I -am- 'uppohed tuh be neutral... look, we don't have tuh make thih hard. If yuh want tuh talk tuh Lydiri, I promihe I will take a mehhage and make no judgement on tuh being giving tuh mehhage. Lydiri would probably approve of thuh approach. Lehh truhbul fuh everyone involved."

"If you're Prodigal, that's difficult to promise, but I'm willing to hear your side of this or whatever else you'd like to talk about."

Gertrude!5tTWT1eydY 2016/11/26(Sat)09:19 No. 761596 ID: a606da
File 148018078035.png - (325.79KB , 800x600 , lotm65.png )

“What if I’ve already figured out who you are?”

“Have you?” She(?) considers this with a forlorn expression. “In that case, I suppose your response would be up to you. I couldn’t force you to control your reaction, anyway. Well, I suppose I could, technically - but Emotion is a fickle force, and I prefer to avoid dealing with it. That being said, forget my conditions. My name is Prodigal.”

“I’m Gertrude.” I nod cautiously, taking care not to lose my head. “If you don’t do anyting ‘cary, I won’t be ‘cared.”

“Your reaction is refreshing. My introduction usually provokes either fleeing or attempts on my life.” Prodigal exhales with relief. “You are a kind person, Gertrude, and I am pleased to meet you.”

“Tank you.” I look him over. He still seems extremely androgynous, if not explicitly feminine. “I wuh given a different dehcryptun of you, Prodigal.”

“Ah, so you have noticed the partial regression in my appearance? I theorize that it is due to my recent death, which is a mildly complicated topic. This face ironically works well as a disguise, though it is by no means ideal.”

“Um… can you maybe ekplain why you’re not going to kill me and everyone I care about?”

“What?! I would never hurt you!” Prodigal looks scandalized. “I am a pacifist, and I have always been one. Except for a single night.”

“It wuh a big night.”

“It happened. I do not regret my actions, nor do I consider them entirely logical. But that disgusting business is complete. If I am to be free of my past, I must devote myself to creating a better future.” Prodigal wheezes sadly. “I am responsible for much suffering, yes, but I will cause no more. I am not a monster.”

“I don’t know if tuh Mehhengerh are ready to forgive you.” I frown. “Dey don’t ‘eem happy about what happened.”

“Oh.” Prodigal wavers, looking at the floor. “I… I assumed as much, but it is still painful to be rejected by family.” He sounds like he might start crying. “I am grateful for your honesty, Gertrude. Stay honest, please, and tell me: Do you hate me?”

“I am ‘uppohed to be neutral…” I think it over. “It ih difficult, but I’m willing to hear your ‘ide of dih, or whatever you’d like to talk about.”

“You will? Th - Thank you! Goodness, no one has ever offered to listen to me. I am honored. I believe it is better to listen elsewhere, however.” Prodigal’s cloak throws itself open, and dozens of wires slither out like animals, grasping at the air. Several of them split into smaller wires which hang purposefully in the air. Space, be a dear, would you? You still owe me quite a few lifetimes, so please be silent about the price.”

A symbol flashes in the emptiness between Prodigal’s outstretched wires. For some reason, it reminds me of the Messengers’ ankh.

Gertrude!5tTWT1eydY 2016/11/26(Sat)09:25 No. 761602 ID: a606da
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The street around us bends into a circle, and then it uncurls into somewhere else entirely. I feel a dreadful vertigo.

“Was that your first time? I apologize.” Prodigal’s regretful voice drifts into my focus. “If it helps, the second traversal is usually much easier on the system.”

“Where - ?” I barely manage to get a word out before I fall to pieces.

“Ah!” Prodigal’s wires fly out from under his robe and instantly weave themselves into a net to catch me. “We are under the sea. I chose the location to better accommodate you. You can go for a swim, if you would like; I made sure that the water will be comfortable for you. More importantly, are you alright?”

“I tink?” I slowly put myself back together. “Yeah, I am.”

“That is good.” Prodigal smiles. I jump back as his wires shove a small cup of steaming liquid into my face. “Would you like some tea? It is my own blend. It always perks me right up after a nasty traversal. I can have Space spirit up any other refreshments you might want, too. Just say the word.”

“Um…” I gaze out into the ocean, distracted.

“Again, I apologize.” Prodigal laughs nervously. “I am very excited, so I may be speaking overly fast. I am doubtless awkward in many ways; I have been alone for a long time. Oh, sorry, perhaps I should have kept that to myself… so, um, moving on! What do you want to talk about? Are you curious about anything in particular?”

One nagging question: why?
Why abuse the Messenger's power?
Why kill so many people?
Why wait so long to seek out the Messenger's again?
Why does he think that anyone will ever forgive him?
Why come to Gertrude? She has no reason to trust him, and even less reason to help him.

>My introduction usually provokes either fleeing or attempts on my life.
Honestly, I'm not equipped to succeed at either. I haven't learned how to run in my new form yet, and you chose one that would take some creativity for anyone to harm.

>We are under the sea.
How far under? I'm not sure what depth my new form is rated to. If my octopi are comfortable in atmosphere at sea level, they can't be deep water critters.

>I made sure that the water will be comfortable for you
Oh nevermind, they and/or space cheater to make sure it was right.

>What do you want to talk about? Are you curious about anything in particular?
Well, I suppose I should first allow you to give your story in your own words. No one has heard your side of things.

After he or she tells her tale:

The principle problem the messengers, as a whole, have with you is they view your actions as a betrayal of everything they are. From their perspective, it appears premeditated, too. That you mastered Speaking and chose a form specifically suited for the massacre you were planning. And... *look around at the spacial distortion around you* I expect they would find complaint if your current Speaker was paid for in advance by that night.

Frankly, your biggest problem would be convincing them you're being honest, now. They believe you lied to them the entire time you were a messenger. Trust will not be easy.

I'm not trying to be cruel. I'm just warning you what you have stacked up against you. If you really want to be a messenger again, it will not be an easy path.

>Are you curious about anything in particular?
That business of his or her recent death might be worth asking about.

>>761602
Guys, why are we listening to this actual mass-murderer?
Why are we in his creepy, undersea lair?
What are we hoping to accomplish?

>>761615
Beats me!
One minute we're delivering someone's booty call, the next we're having tea with a wireframe Hannibal Lecter!

>>761615
Not getting murdered?

We have no means to harm something made out of metal, or that possess archwizard tier Speaking. We can barely walk, we don't have the means to flee (even before we get into Space shenanigans).

When Cthulhu comes up to you and offers to have tea beneath the waves you do it, because there are no better options. When evil offers to be affable, you let it, because it beats the alternative.

The goal is to obtain information that may be useful to us, and try to get the crazy murderer positively disposed towards us. And to survive. While acknowledging, inwardly, that they may be lying about everything they tell us, and may be trying to build a rapport simply to use us. (Redeeming or recruiting Prodigal is arguably a goal, but I'd say that's laughably unlikely for now).

If Prodigal's so all knowing, ask them why the quest's called Last of the Messengers. You counted at least, like, three Messengers. Probably more.

>>761627
If there aren't any more made after us then this group would still be the last.

>>761621
>a well written, thoughtful, logical response
Thank you very much.

>We are under the sea.
"I haven't seen the sea since I ran to join the messengers"

>>Would you like some tea?
sure, take some tea. I mean I don't see her trying to harm you with it seeing how she has much simpler, easier, and quicker ways of dealing with you if she wanted to hurt you. Might as well be polite.


Well, uh... do you want to talk business right off the bat or would you prefer we start with some small talk?

If you want to start with business what exactly do you want me to say to the other messengers. After you, uh, left the rest of the world saw what a messenger could do and people actually started to attack the messengers out of fear. Even if that wasn't much of a problem the messengers themselves where kinda crippled by the sudden distrust placed upon them. I mean I was told they use to be delegates between kings and countries but lately they talk whatever job people will hire them for just to make ends meat. I'm only telling you this because I think it is only fair to let you know what to expect.

As for small talk... so how did you know where to find the perfect spot in the ocean for me? I mean I haven't had this body for to long so I'm still trying to figure things out.

I could attempt to explain the myriad ways Princess Murder8!+(# could convince you of her cause, use poisons to mess with your mind, rewrite your memory as she talks her way into your core and shatters it from the outside.

But the simple fact is, she's a higher level than you. You cannot fight back with words, it's her strongest talent. You cannot harm her, you do not have the initiative against a walking bundle of wires that has learned to strangle hundreds of babies while shooting their mothers with pinpoint accuracy. You cannot run or use the environment, she's smart enough to immunize herself against electrical shocks, rust, and depth pressure, and she will likely use them against YOU. You need to defend your body and mind.

STAY PARANOID. There's a difference between looking at the enemy's perspective and @#$%ing Stockholm Syndrome.

At least send PART of yourself out there to swim!

>>761615

There's also the weird thing about them being an all-around nice guy, then being a mass murderer and apparent tyrant, and then... suddenly being an awkward, tired and lonely-sounding dude partway regressed from their Messenger form.

They denied having killed anyone after the 'one night', which seems at odds with the stories of them putting themselves up as a tyrant called the Wicker Prince/Cord. Having been alone for a long time also seems a little odd; a tyrant is not, per se, alone when they are busy tyrannizing. Did they mean alone as in 'kindred spirits/friends' alone, perhaps? Or were they not actually the Wicker Prince, after all, and have been elsewhere?

It seems important for Gertrude to remain as friendly and unbiased as able, which means to accept the tea (it's polite) and listen to their story for however long it takes. We can ask incisive questions as needed and look for contradictions in their tale (but we should perhaps not press those contradictions too hard, for obvious reasons).

I'm also mildly worried/intrigued about the 'price' mentioned to Space. Why would Space be owing 'lifetimes' to Prodigal ('still', even, indicating more has been owed in the past), and what -is- the actual cost of what Prodigal just casually asked Space to perform for Gertrude's apparent comfort and benefit?

>and listen to their story for however long it takes
Well, actually, no. We do have someone waiting for us to return and deliver a reply message ("Yes") and if this takes too long, we may have to ask for a recess so we can deliver that message before it gets rude, or the person waiting for a reply assumes the worst or gets upset.

Although I wouldn't be surprised if Prodigal is on good terms with Time, too, and would be perfectly willing to bend great cosmic power to ensure our undersea tea party can run long without us being late.

>>761675
>STAY PARANOID
Absolutely not. Paranoia is for people who have some hope of defending themselves. Prodigal is the legendary unsurpassed master of a magic system you learned the existence of less than a week ago. Assume good faith until proven otherwise, and pursue a diplomatic resolution, or you're already dead a thousand times over.

>>761596
>owe me quite a few lifetimes
So, am I correct in thinking that, on "that one night," you ritually sacrificed all (or most of) those people to various aspects of reality in exchange for future favors?

Why did you officially leave the Messengers, and, because surely any such issue would involve some sort of internal politicking, what do you think the real reason was? How much do you know about the Messengers' internal story of your career with them, and activities afterward? Justification and interpretation aside, what in-principle independently-verifiable facts vary between your version and theirs?

Gertrude!5tTWT1eydY 2018/03/29(Thu)21:36 No. 875949 ID: a606da
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“I haven’t heen tuh eea - not hinh I ran to join tuh Mehhengerh.” I gaze out into the ocean, distorted and blurry through the odd glass(?) sphere we seem to be occupying. “How far under? I don’t know what depuh my new form ih rated to. If I’m comfortable in atmopeer at eea level, my octopuheh can’t be deep water critterh.”

“I am not sure what unit of measurement to use.” Prodigal bites his lip. “Not too deep, I think? There is not much pressure here. I think I have the right area for your sort of species. Still, if I am wrong, I will protect you, Gertrude. I promise.”

“Well, uh…” I glance down at the tea Prodigal gave me, not sure whether to drink it or not. I dare to take a sip. It’s wonderful, actually! “Do you want to talk buhineh right off the bat, or would you prefer we tart wih ‘mall talk?”

“Whichever you are comfortable with, I suppose!” Prodigal smiles, anxiously backing away from me in an apparent attempt to give me more personal space. “I - I would like to be friends with you. I have never been very good at that, though. Making friends, I mean. Speaking is my strength, not, uh, not social matters; I find that excelling at one has meant little regarding the other, oddly enough.” Prodigal sighs, quietly gazing at the shattered ankh hanging from his neck. “I miss the Messengers. I loved them. They were the only friends I ever knew, and my better family.”

“Why did you leave?” I quietly ask him. “How muh do you know about what dey tink about your career wih dem, and what you did afterward? Dey believe you lied to dem tuh entire time. Dey view your actunh ah a betrayal of everyting dey are. It appeauh premeditated, too.”

“I did not leave, nor betray, nor lie! I would never, if I had any choice at all. I am a Messenger if I am anything!” For a moment, Prodigal puffs himself up, indignant - but a moment later, he wilts, and the bravado ceases. “Which means I am nothing. Oh, what is the use? I do not know the specifics of what you have heard, but it is doubtless true, for I know my friends would never lie. I know they must hate me.”

“Why kill dat many people?” A thought occurs to me as I glance into the ocean around us, and the glass orb we’re inside of. “…Am I correct in tinking dat, on ‘dat one night’, you ritooally ‘akrified all of dem to variuh apect of reality for favor?”

“I - I sort of did. Accidentally.” Prodigal mumbles with surprising eloquence. He looks away. “But… excuse me, I…”

Gertrude!5tTWT1eydY 2018/03/29(Thu)21:36 No. 875950 ID: a606da
File 152238461315.png - (235.19KB , 800x600 , lotm68.png )

To my surprise, Prodigal bursts into tears.

“I beg you, Gertrude, try to understand!” Prodigal shudders and sobs, yet his words are as collected as ever. It doesn’t strike me as deceptive - I can hear the misery and desperation in his voice - but more as though he can’t help but speak clearly. “I cannot say that I wanted to do anything I have done, but also I cannot say that any of it was a mistake. I offer no excuses. Rather, it is simply a shame that my life is what it is, and that events conspired to rule me as they have done. A terrible shame!”

“I’m not trying to be cruel.” I lightly try to comfort him. Cautiously. From a distance. “I’m jut warning you what you have ‘tacked up againt you. It will not be an eahee road.”

“I know. You have been both honest and kind. May Word favor you.” Prodigal continues to weep. “Are you scared of me? Please, do not be.”

“I…” I hesitate.

“Oh. I see.” Prodigal whimpers, taking my silence for an answer. “I am sorry. I was not trying to frighten you. I never try. It just happens, now. Everyone is scared of me. I am, too. I am scared all the time, and I do not think anyone can help me, and that scares me even more.” Prodigal gazes miserably into my eyes, his face wet with tears. “Help me.” He pleads. “I do not know what to do. Please.”

I feel like I’ve been given the final exam on my first day of class.

Gertrude!5tTWT1eydY 2018/03/29(Thu)21:38 No. 875951 ID: a606da
File 152238472204.png - (591.35KB , 800x600 , lotm69.png )

“I apologize.” Prodigal quickly fights back his tears, wiping his face on his robe. “I have been rude.” He forces a smile, quivering with nervousness. “Ignore my indiscretion. You are a guest. You are not here to solve my problems, you are here because - because I invited you.” Prodigal winces on the word ‘invited’, apparently realizing that he never actually asked for my permission. “Shall we go swimming?”

I tentatively nod.

Instantly, Prodigal throws off his robe. Underneath is nothing but a wild mass of wires constituting his body, with the only flesh being around his face and head. With a whisper, he does away with the glass around us, and we tumble down into the water.

Almost immediately, I come to pieces. I flail wildly, trying to collect myself, but one of my hand-selves slips away from me. I’m struck by a familiar vertigo as I see the world through two perspectives, and I meet my own gaze to find it full of panic.

I realize, to my horror, that I don’t know how to swim anymore! Not as I am now, anyway. Not in this form. I helplessly look over at Prodigal, but his eyes are closed as he drifts happily along in the current.

I don’t know what to do!

you can breath right? Octopi should be able to breath underwater. Just focus on keeping yourself together then once you're sure you won't drift apart try splitting a single octopus off of yourself and have it focus on swimming around your main cluster. then once you get comfortable with that add a few more until you can get to the point where all of you can swim... might take awhile though but hey, got to start somewhere.

You can't drown down here. Take all the time you need to move a single tentacle on a single body.

Of course, the lack of oxygen in your lungs means your brain is going into low-power mode, so try to think up a plan of some sort before you go stupid.

>>875951
You've seen octopi swim before right? Let your parts separate a little, but stay close together. Mimic the movements you saw. It's like paddling but with every tentacle instead of just two arms.
Or just let one octopus go and control it specifically to experiment with tentacle swimming technique.

>>875951
Calm down and focus on getting your parts under control. You should be able to breathe underwater, though now would be a really crummy time to discover that your relationship to actual octopi is purely cosmetic. What you don't want is to sink any deeper. Octopi propel themselves in the water by using their siphons. Do you have a siphon? Now's a good time to experiment.

Octopuses swim, it is normal for them, gestalts are untested. Go to the most distant octopus and swim with just one, back to your collective, you can catch it if it is out of control. Once you know what one moving feels like, you can work on spreading that feeling to all of yourself.

Just don't panic, ink would be terrible right now.

>Rather, it is simply a shame that my life is what it is, and that events conspired to rule me as they have done. A terrible shame!
I'm not sure blaming his actions on circumstances will tread much water with the others. It feels too much like a denial of responsibility.

>I don’t know what to do!
Maybe it's not so important to hold your parts together under water. Your bits don't have to be touching to control them, right? So you just need each octopus to stay near the others. A school, or a cloud moving together.

Once you've got the hang of moving octopi in the water, you can worry about trying to swim in a human-shaped formation.

Hmm. Hopefully Word's piece of paper will be fine under water?

Relax. You are safe. Breath through your gills.
Then, start trying to move with one body at a time. Remember: You are built for this.

Focus on staying perfectly still and move one piece at a time, beginning with moving your handtopus back into reach of your armtopus.