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+--- Thread: Sea Lion Shores landscape tantrums (/showthread.php?tid=17343)
landscape tantrums - Meqet'iṉes - August 18, 2016
Tagging @Doe for visibility.
The heat of summer lingered upon the air despite the deep dark of the night, and the thickness of the salty air could be felt by anything that walked the earth. It was heavy. The humidity alone was surprisingly weighted, as if to clot the very breath within one's lungs. These were not issues for her — they never would be — for she, granddaughter, could watch from the safety of the endless space.
As she drifted against the currents, as her held breath began to expire, she ascended from the great pit and breached the surface, nose first. A brief exhalation told those of the coast that she was nearby. It did not matter to her that anyone knew; there was minimal light at this hour, and her hide was a sleek inkstain.
As the spray from her breath formed a mist above the seemingly endless creature, the beasts of the coast took notice, and with surprising agility they began to rouse one another and lurch further from her reach — a pity. These blubber-filled things would have made a filling breakfast.
RE: landscape tantrums - Murgash - August 26, 2016
despite the darkness, there was still a remnant of scorching sun, of thick and clouting humidity. murgash had suffered the day entire, languishing in the shade -- it was not until night was well upon him did he dare venture from the aegis of a bramblepatch. he had instinctively gone to the shore, thinking the coastal wind would have eked from the insufferable humidity a gentle and cool breeze.
alas, it was not so, and the shore was equally as oppressive. murgash was disappointed, though his spirits rallied as he saw the bumbling race of several sea lions not too far from the shallows he waded in.
he was delighted, actually, for they seemed to be running for him -- stupidly he stood right in front of the horde, snapping joyously at their lolling flanks as they thundered past him. dinner! lunch! breakfast forever! he would find a soft calf, or fat mother to fell -- and he would eat and eat and eat until even a glutton would feel desecrated.
yet his thrill was shortlived as he heard a familiar and unwanted sound -- a chill pressed his soul and instantly the heady oppressiveness of the humidity about him seemed false and insufficient. he knew that sound, that expulsion of air and water in a sharp burst -- and he wanted nothing to do with it.
quickly he stepped back, eyeing the barking sea-dogs that by now were on dry land. "smart bastards." he grumbled, scanning the water for any sign of the terror within.