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I'm writing this report for my own purposes. While investigating rumours of paranormal sightings in the town of Foxtree, I found something that fit the descriptions I'd heard. A large, tentacled mass swimming near the shore. It took a short stretch of time stalking to see the then unidentified creature breach the water. What I saw emerge, however, was not what I expected in the slightest. IN this line of work, I've come to expect creatures that are not the most sightly. I have long known that one's appearance does not denote their character, even monsters. What I saw that day though, shocked me in a different way. Attached to the eight writhing tentacles, was the torso of a fair young woman. At first, I had believed this was an illusion, akin to the sirens I had encountered not long ago. Something was off though; in my experience I had never seen even humanoid monsters wearing human clothing. After coming ashore, she donned a large blue hairbow, and a neat dress shirt with a flowing skirt. This seemed like very strange behavior, and when I looked way for a mere second to jot in my notes, she suddenly had the legs of a normal human girl. I watched as she casually walked toward town afterwards. I managed to keep a low profile and tail her, unquenchably curious of what she could be, or what she was doing. I attempted to casually grab her attention, she seemed startled, whether my approach was shocking or not. I began conversing with her; she was timid but sociable and softspoken. I usually struggle to communicate with monsters, but she was shockingly fluent, and if I hadn’t known otherwise, I would never have guessed she wasn’t human, save for her odd speech impediments. Something compelled me to talk to this girl in ways different from monsters before. The feelings was less akin to fascination, something more personal. Against my professional goals, I asked her if she’s like to talk some other time, perhaps at one of the local cafes. She was dumbstruck by the proposition, trying to find a way to politely let me down before leaving promptly. I don’t know what had come over me in that moment, her adverse reaction brought me back on track. An opportunity to naturally inquire about her was slipped, but I had another plan. I staked out near the bay where she had emerged from the water a few days prior, in an attempt to confront her in her unfiltered state. After many days and many hours of routinely stalking, there she was, tentacles and all. I came out from hiding to meet her. It wasn’t the most elegant way to do this, clear in how frightened she was. She didn’t flee, but shuddered in place, slinking backward into the water. Once I assured her I was of no threat, she eased up. While it was rude and confrontational to do it this way, she was surprisingly open to me, conversing with me about her life here. Winry is a cecaelian refugee from the deep ocean, living as a human here in Foxtree, free of pressures back at her home. It was a fascinating look into a world far, far from my own, and how it is to be separated from it. I have to admit, most of our conversation was not on professional terms. This is not something that happens often, but talking to her was infectious, like meeting up with an old friend you haven’t seen in a long while. In my years of searching many places far and wide, I never thought I’d find this, a friend, although part of me wishes it were more.

This document will remain classified, read only by me, Jack Kindle. For the protection of Winry and her secret.

Description

I'm writing this report for my own purposes. While investigating rumours of paranormal sightings in the town of Foxtree, I found something that fit the descriptions I'd heard. A large, tentacled mass swimming near the shore. It took a short stretch of time stalking to see the then unidentified creature breach the water. What I saw emerge, however, was not what I expected in the slightest. IN this line of work, I've come to expect creatures that are not the most sightly. I have long known that one's appearance does not denote their character, even monsters. What I saw that day though, shocked me in a different way. Attached to the eight writhing tentacles, was the torso of a fair young woman. At first, I had believed this was an illusion, akin to the sirens I had encountered not long ago. Something was off though; in my experience I had never seen even humanoid monsters wearing human clothing. After coming ashore, she donned a large blue hairbow, and a neat dress shirt with a flowing skirt. This seemed like very strange behavior, and when I looked way for a mere second to jot in my notes, she suddenly had the legs of a normal human girl. I watched as she casually walked toward town afterwards. I managed to keep a low profile and tail her, unquenchably curious of what she could be, or what she was doing. I attempted to casually grab her attention, she seemed startled, whether my approach was shocking or not. I began conversing with her; she was timid but sociable and softspoken. I usually struggle to communicate with monsters, but she was shockingly fluent, and if I hadn’t known otherwise, I would never have guessed she wasn’t human, save for her odd speech impediments. Something compelled me to talk to this girl in ways different from monsters before. The feelings was less akin to fascination, something more personal. Against my professional goals, I asked her if she’s like to talk some other time, perhaps at one of the local cafes. She was dumbstruck by the proposition, trying to find a way to politely let me down before leaving promptly. I don’t know what had come over me in that moment, her adverse reaction brought me back on track. An opportunity to naturally inquire about her was slipped, but I had another plan. I staked out near the bay where she had emerged from the water a few days prior, in an attempt to confront her in her unfiltered state. After many days and many hours of routinely stalking, there she was, tentacles and all. I came out from hiding to meet her. It wasn’t the most elegant way to do this, clear in how frightened she was. She didn’t flee, but shuddered in place, slinking backward into the water. Once I assured her I was of no threat, she eased up. While it was rude and confrontational to do it this way, she was surprisingly open to me, conversing with me about her life here. Winry is a cecaelian refugee from the deep ocean, living as a human here in Foxtree, free of pressures back at her home. It was a fascinating look into a world far, far from my own, and how it is to be separated from it. I have to admit, most of our conversation was not on professional terms. This is not something that happens often, but talking to her was infectious, like meeting up with an old friend you haven’t seen in a long while. In my years of searching many places far and wide, I never thought I’d find this, a friend, although part of me wishes it were more.

This document will remain classified, read only by me, Jack Kindle. For the protection of Winry and her secret.