Blob

He clasped his talons around the driftwood. “I enchant this wood to carve itself into the shape of a gentle little octopus.”
He set it down on the sand between them and watched with amazed elation as small curls began peeling off the edges of the wood, and then bigger wedges, and then slowly a perfect head emerged, followed by eight sculpted tentacles.
Several minutes later, it was done. The little white octopus was about the size of a full-grown dragon’s foot, with cheerfully flippy tentacles and a mischievous expression. Fathom picked it up and dusted off the sand.
It was the most perfect carving Fathom had ever seen; it matched exactly the vision he’d had in his head. That never happened when he tried to carve things with his claws.
“For you,” he said, handing it to Indigo.
“Wow.” She took it carefully. He could tell she was trying not to smile too much at it; that she loved it, but was still trying to look disapproving, which didn’t work at all on her.
“You could have just carved this yourself,” she pointed out.
“I know,” he said, “but then it wouldn’t have turned out so well.”
“I think your carvings are perfect. I still have the beluga.”
Fathom laughed, remembering his first gift to her. “Hello, that was supposed to be a graceful dolphin.”
She snorted. “Well, I like belugas better anyway. The point is, you didn’t need magic to make this.”
“Maybe not,” said Fathom, “but without magic, I couldn’t do this.” He rested one claw on the octopus’s head and whispered, “Now come to life, with the sweetest, most loyal, most agreeable personality of any pet in Pyrrhia.”
The octopus blinked its large, dark eyes at him, and then up at Indigo. She gasped softly, and the octopus wrapped its tentacles around her wrist as if it were hugging her.

Darkstalker C3