Stavanger Bay pain is a ritual we are required to conduct in

She clarified that she wants to know whatever he is willing to tell her and offers him a few examples to go off of. It’s almost ironic because he’s never had secrets …never had anything he had to hide until recently; but the truth is he only keeps it secret because he knows it’s not socially acceptable to eat your own species and because he’s ashamed even in his reluctant acceptance that it’s not apart of his life. “I’ve been here before. Many, many years ago. I ran with packs that are ghosts. Echoes. I am probably the only one left here that remembers them.” He doesn’t know if that’s true or not but it’s how he feels and thus it is his truth. He’s middle aged now. Not old per say — there’s still a chance he might live to be ten years of age which would pit him at exactly mid-life — but still. His youth is behind him and he knows this. “I do not know,” He answers with sincerity to both her last questions. He does not know what he seeks or if he will stay here long. “It is an enigma to me, yet.” Kerberos lives his life one day at a time now. He has to for there is no telling what the next day will bring him and beyond being terrifying it’s dangerous.

“I would enjoy your delightful company,” He responds to her next question, picking up on her flirtation and offers his own. “It’s been a while since I’ve had company.” He admits. Company that did not end up his meal, that was. Kerberos watches as she lingers in a pose that it is part restful and part playful: allowing him the choice. Kerberos contemplates, tempted to cater to her playful whims but he’s a bit too tired for that. “The bay houses a shallow pool that is wonderful for relaxing.” He invites with a subtle gesture in the direction: a happenstance discovery on Kerberos' part. That’d been where he had intended to head when she called out to him and he looked to relax in it and forget the nightmares that plague him.

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