Cerulean Cape thunderclap

Overnight a fierce and blustery winter wind had whipped the seas into an angry swell that savagely snapped and gnawed at the shoreline and drowned any gull stupid enough to try to hang five on the bitchin' curls, dude. Raptor sheltered in the crook of the bay, slavering at the thought of what the dawn might bring when the storm broke. He emerged as soon as the roar of the winds died to a pussy cat hiss, and started to prowl the coast in search of all the edible things the ocean was bound to have belched onto the sands.

He snatched up a few dead crabs before he latched on to the tattered wing of an idiot surfer bird and dragged it down the beach. He did so with a haste that was almost panicky — he did not want any of the sea's spoils to be snatched before his gluttonous hide got to them and his eyes worked overtime trying to scan every inch of the cape. Raptor rounded a point on the shore, and gasped — dropping the dude — as he spied the main course. There, all plump and bloated and salty and oozing and just astoundingly beautiful, was the shark-bitten corpse of a fat ass seal.

"THE STORM PROVIDES!" He bellowed as he flung the feathered imbecile into the beachgrass and slithered to the stinking carrion, whistling a high piercing note for his crewmates in case they were in ear shot.

JUST FOR YOU @Lycaon and tagging @Smokestep @Sandpiper for reference and @Wylla because LOOK WHAT HELLAWES CAUSED ME TO DO.