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and here it was! armand stood upon the sandy coast and stared with unabashed awe at the sea. it lapped upon itself and washed across his paws; he smelled the rich fish odor of the brine and breathed its scathingness into his lungs. here was the drink upon which many sailed and where many had died. armand blinked slowly, for before him the sea was churning into odd wolfish shapes, and he laughed to see them.
they urged him to run with them, and the boy's stride lengthened until he was leaping the length of the cold wet beach, head turned to gaze upon the sea. it lashed him with exciting fervency, kissing salt into the tangles of his unkempt fur, and armand shouted at the shapes with an exultant voice. a rock caught his paw and threw the boy down into a flurry of sand. he cried out and was still, quite shaken and spent of all remaining energy; armand breathed alone where he lay as the world about him churned into blue galaxies that sprinkled down salt upon his face.[/tr][/td][/table]
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The great brute was tired. He could feel himself staggering against the bleakness of his own life and existence. The fire that had burned in his gut had faded to a quiet smolder, and though he knew that his purpose had been clearly laid out by the ancient spirits of the sea, he could not help but to feel distant from them and their hopes for him. It had all been so clear when he had resided on the Warsaw islands. He had known without a shadow of a doubt what his destiny was to be. In time, he had found himself realizing that fate was merely another means of saying that he did not have a choice. In this, Skellige resented his path and the empty promises of a powerful empire. The wraith had grown restless in his time on the shores of his sacred Blackrock. More so, he found himself disgusted by the idea that he did not have the strength to merely abandon it.
Pulling himself away from the sandy beaches of his home and the sweet aroma of the neighboring Donnelaith, the shadow trudged along the coast. His head was held low and his dark eyes scoured the beach for signs of hope and promise. Those lands had been teeming with potential when he had been founding his claim, but it had seemed that those with the greatest strengths had moved on to their own paths. Could he fault them for this? No… but he wished that he could.
The tossing of the waves drew his attention upright, and the titan paused in his steps to witness the joyous youth of a man as he plunged into the crashing waves and was tossed back to the shores. Narrowing his brows, the silver-ribbed leviathan whisked his tongue across his muzzle and held his ground with a quiet resolve to witness the strange lad. Had he once loved the thrill of the sea in a similar manner? Perhaps he had, but those memories had faded from his mind and his heart carried only a sickening heaviness to it.
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the salt -- it tasted of mysterious things, of places armand had never seen and would never visit. and still he lay there all the same, content in himself and his prone nature, the sound of the giddy surf in his ears. here would be a pleasant place to breathe his last — this was not the warm sea of his childhood, but oceans nevertheless reminded him of his time in the artistry-decked halls of that opulent place, of his fellows, their voices lifted in song. of -- his mind shied from the name.
armand felt a gaze upon him, and lifted himself gingerly to his paws. there came a violent breeze to cut through the pelt he had not known was wet from the surf. and so he gasped, and danced away in a contorted fashion from the waves, turning until his eyes came to rest on the large sable beast who stood farther down the beach in watchful repose. armand was curious, and perhaps stupid in hs madness — he let his strides bear him carefully toward the wolf, until the other grew in size and ferocity.
at length he held still, his eyes tracing the rib-markings of silver upon the other's coat, the fierce eyes, the proud stance. was this world so full of strong and savage men? armand wondered, but he did not speak. it was not his place to do so — was this stretch of sand the man's possession, for he stood as if he commanded the sea.[/tr][/td][/table]
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There was a degree of ragdoll charm about the character who stood before him on shaky limbs. Some form of innocence that had not been experienced by the hulking shadow of the waves. Perhaps it was the joy of the water that he felt radiating from the youthful young man. Once, Skellige had felt that joy too; he had longed for the touch of the water and the saline stench of the ocean winds. It was strange for him to think of that emotion and to realize that it had been replaced by something far more detrimental to his being. He was no longer overcome by joy when he found himself in the depths – that innate happiness had been removed and followed by a peculiar possession. It was this that the boy noted with his keen eye. Skellige stood as though he had claimed the entire stretch of water for his own. But for him, this was a reality.
Watching with a careful cock of his brow, the leviathan followed the movements of the wispy lad, though his expression did not change. There seemed to be a wariness about the other, but a sharp interest that had urged him forward. He was small in stature and composed of dusty browns and creams; all colors sat upon a ragged and tousled coat that pricked with the salt of the water. Of course, he was wetted by the touch of the waves, but Skellige found himself curious as to why the stranger sought to drown himself in the lapping of the sea.
“She’s tricky,” he remarked in a guttural growl, gesturing toward the tossing and churning waters with a motion of his muzzle.
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the seas of his memory had been warm swells that licked gently the feet of swimmers and bore them into sandy coves that glistened with coral-colours and the leap of exotic fish. armand had never known waters that could kill and freeze until now, and now he stood with his back unto it to face its king. the brine that lapped about the palazzo had been a kind sort — armand felt a sort of heady dread rising in him now as he glanced over one bony shoulder toward the dark horizon of saltwater. but why should he fear, when this wolven poseidon stood now upon the sands and commanded the drink to be calm?
"yes," armand agreed, and laughed boyishly. "but she is beautiful. i should like to court her," the ganymede jested nonsensically, but he meant each word, for it was still death he sought. his eyes danced with some misunderstood glint. "will you show me?" show him how to die, how to take himself beneath the surface, and part his jaws for her kiss, and feel her tongue trailing the depths of his throat, until she had drunk up his breath and armand was no more.[/tr][/td][/table]