Looks Can Deceive (Naiad)

Sokuuf'oren sighed as she wandered the park. Anniken had suggested the place to her, citing that it was beautiful despite being in Gotham. The Atlantean didn't see that at all, but then again she wasn't quite used to the 'beauty' of the surface. So she had put on a knee length white dress with black lacing up the sides, brushed her hair back and put on the unfortunate surface world foot covers known as sandals. They slowed her down and restrained her feet-how could she swim with them on-yet they were apparently commonplace on the surface. Anniken had wanted her to wear them, so she did and had left the house before her mother could convince her to wear anything else from the surface. Atlantean clothing was much more free.

Sokuuf had been about to turn around and return home, the park having make no impact on her, when she witnessed a group of men walking up to a well-dressed teenager. Sokuuf watched as they threatened the teen, who had replied by hitting one of them, and informing the others that he was a prince.

"Interesting," she thought, making note of the fact as the men ran from the teen, the injured one left behind on the ground. In Atlantis, royalty was met with a much warmer welcome, unless it was from Black Manta or the purists, of course. But even the purists held some respect for their king. These men had none it seemed, only fear. It was a shame, the Prince seemed like a nice individual.

Sokuuf'oren had planned on turning away, returning to her business and leaving the Prince to his. Yet she had stayed planted in her spot, watching as the man on the ground rose slowly, and pulled a gun on the Prince. Blue eyes widened at the sight, her mind running through her options. Her King wouldn't want her to do nothing, but she did not bring her waterskin or her trident with her. She just had her fists and feet, and that was what she was going to have to use.

"Mōrós!" She shouted in her native tongue as she ran at the man. His head snapped towards her in confusion, seconds before her foot collided with his wrist, causing him to drop the gun on the grass. Sokuuf glared at him, and followed her high kick with a side thrust kick to his gut. She watched him stumble backwards, grimacing at the pain in his wrist and stomach, before she turned her blue gaze on the Prince.

"Are you alright, sir?" She inquired softly, her voice gentle. She reached out a hand to place on his shoulder, before thinking better of it. He might not like being touched, especially by a peasant.