[Commentary by the universal counsel]
Little Elliot in this moment, I would say was weak. Elliot should have collected of the flesh and remain of that horned-whale. Made some use of the sorry thing, the fact that he did not makes a man such as myself a bit peeved. For having the title of an abomination, a hunter, a monster. Elliot failed to live up to that here. It's a shame, a darn shame that he didn't make use of an animal that fused so well him, a Magickal creature now fused with him. It could have been very nutritional and good for him. I'm going to say it, Little Elliot must be some kind of masochist for not making use of the remains. It could only have helped him, aided him, years of development he could have skipped. Nope. Little Elliot was going to be like Elliot. If he learns to be ruthless and cutthroat seeing everything and one as a stepping stone for his genetic development he might get somewhere. Mercy is lost on a corpse; it should be earned by a worthwhile opponent.
Elliot felt as though his body contained a second labored heartbeat. A new life blood that coursed through him, refreshing and revitalizing his cells. He has guesses of what it could be but worried about the explosives deaths he had just experienced, he was concerned. He had kept a log of all of the happening of his body and now he continued to edit it and add new data. But the beat soon ended painfully as he crumpled clutching his chest. It was an ultra-grade journal, bound in carbon fiber sheets and papers that had every resistance you could hope for. One of those situations where millions of dollars were placed in an item whose job could be more easily accomplished by technology. But a place without the possibility of peering eyes was just what he wanted. The cold helped reduce his fever, and shakes, but as time would go on Elliot would not eat and would only be awake for a few hours of the day.
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"You understand right", Elliot asked a scurrying crustation. That scuttled by, leaving little bums in the sand with its tail. He had sequestered himself in a small cavern that over looked the sand plain the horned-whale had fallen into. Elliot had not gotten used to living under water, it did not seem that he had the ability to breath water. He was not a fish, rather it was as though his need for air was facilitated by other means. This second heart, this new life blood provided him what he needed as long as he siphoned it, and breathed it like one would oxygen. He could not help himself but try and see what else he could do. The problem is he did not know what he was doing. So, Elliot moved on to other questions he had. Why did the horned-whale come here? To die? To breed? Was it in a mad dash to escape something? Did it simply feel sick so it went one direction until she died here?
As he pondered this, he looked down at the now clean skeleton of the horned-whale, the epicenter of a majestically intricate, intriguing Zen Garden. The stalks of small corals dotted parts of the pattern. He watches for a while, getting closer looking of all the different corals. Noticing those closer to that skeleton seemed larger with a heavier presence to them.