Blackbeak Bluff i brought my body to the altar

@Astaroth

Renard's understanding of what the ocean was was more theory than practice. A lot of stories. A lot of (bad) description. As it was turning out, theory had not been helpful. "Like a lake but bigger" didn't mean much when it came to putting a picture together in your head, which could at least justify the way they'd scoffed at the idea. No substitute for experience, and Renard knew that. Theoretically.

Somehow they were still surprised. None of that had done it justice. They gave a low whistle between their teeth, looking out over the edge of the cliff as the wind whipped back at them like it wasn't sure whether to push them over or away. They weren't bothered by heights but if anything was going to challenge that, it would be this view -- rolling grass all the way up to a sheer drop and the waves down below. Short stretches of sandy beach framed by jagged spikes of rock like teeth. And the water.

The lake thing hadn't been incorrect, persay, just grossly inadequate. It was much more than "bigger". From a vantage like this, it seemed endless.

in all his time near the sea, the inky ghoul had never once imagined what lie beyond the endless blue. he simply believed the ocean was there to mark the end of the world, at least for him anyway. for the birds and the sea-dwellers the world just kept on going, and he couldn't help but wonder if one day it just came to a stop.

but no matter how high he climbed up or how far he tried to see, the ocean was always there. today was no exception, except this time he wasn't left alone to admire the beauty. "quite the view don't you think?", he called out once close enough to the other, fur a tangled mess as he made his way toward the eerie ledge.

The flaw of such a vast expanse of water and cliff, after the initial surprise and interest wore off and salt started to cake on their fur instead, was that it made it very difficult to actually hear or scent anything. Nose and ears were not so useful when the wind wouldn't stop howling and the air smelled of very little other than fish and salt. Maybe it wasn't like this all the time? But even if, it would be a trick to manage when you were half-blind based entirely on weather--

The voice that came, very suddenly, from behind them, did nothing to disprove that point.

When they turned around it was, at least, unhurried. If the someone in question had any hostile intent, there was no point in speaking. Not when Renard was so conveniently perched on what felt like the edge of the world. No getting up from a plunge like that.

"Not what I was expecting." Only a handful of minutes and Renard could already feel their fur tangling up, whether that was salt or wind or both. This one seemed to have it worse -- clearly he'd been around the sea for longer than they had. Had more practice. They clicked their tongue. "I've heard it described as a big lake. It seems more like the end of the world."

the gap between the two of them continued to close until eventually, astaroth pulled himself up along the cliff's edge and sneaked a glance over to the rocks waiting below. any fear of falling or being pushed hadn't even crossed his mind. if he'd been afraid of dying, either by his own stupidity or this stranger's will, he wouldn't have approached in the first place.

"so you think it's the end of the world too huh?", he asked aloud, though didn't necessarily expect a response back. golden gaze trailed slowly upward until his eyes landed upon the horizon. it was here that warm rays bounced off the ocean surface and illuminated a soft glow that was otherwise believed to mark the end of their world. "it's only the end until someone brave or stupid enough decides to prove otherwise."

Renard kept an eye out as the man approached. Just for safety, certainly understandable. Well, they wouldn't be offended if someone was a little antsy standing on a cliff; it was just good sense. This one didn't seem to mind -- pulled himself right up to the cliff's edge, peered over to the white water and rocks below. Whether that was brave or just foolish...

The stranger's words so perfectly followed that line that Renard laughed. "Strange how frequently those two things seem the same."

They gave the scene another long look. So far out nobody could hope to measure the distance, the line between sea and sky was barely visible at all. Whether that was truly an end or not, like the water dropped off the edge of the world into empty space...well, it didn't matter. Maybe someone someday would swim it, but they wouldn't be coming along. Might as well be.

"Don't know what stories you were told as a kid, but I remember plenty of mine. Everything needs an end, some shit like that. The world can't just go on forever, right?" The wolfdog shrugged. "If I had to pick, this end seems as good as any."

he was only half-listening, though did catch the bit about stories and how the world couldn't go on forever or something like that. "who says everything needs an end?", he tossed back playfully, brow arched while a lighthearted grin danced along his features.

all good things must come to an end was the biggest bullshit line he'd ever heard. if something was good in this messed up world of theirs, then who in their right mind would try to put a stop to it? "i mean just think of all those stories you could dream up if it didn't have an end." he could certainly weave up a few tales to tell the kids, but then again not everyone had as colorful an imagination as he did.

It had always seemed to Renard that the idea of an ending made every inevitable mistake more bearable, in a sort of cheerful nihilistic way, but then they had hardly been the proverbial popular kid in school.

Nonetheless.

They shrugged, returning the smile. "Nobody," they said, and swept their muzzle to indicate the whole expanse of sea and sky. "I don't know about you, but I won't swim that. And I don't expect it to dry up anytime soon. If there is anything past that, I won't be seeing it."

"I can imagine they would be some long stories," Renard offered wryly in exchange. "Are there any you have to tell?" 

he listened and shook his head in agreement here and there. he certainly would not be swimming across the sea anytime soon either, and though he was hopeful someday someone else would, he doubted he'd be around to hear about it.

as for the stories - "stories? got plenty of them, just pick your genre." action, adventure, romance, comedy. he had an arsenal of tales to satisfy any who might be interested in listening, and so while the other was deciding what story to he wanted to hear first, astaroth slid himself backwards on inky haunches and mentally prepared himself for digging up memories of his most memorable moments.  

Most of the stories Renard had heard were to import the inevitable moral. Maybe their family was just less positive than others when it came down to it – even as they’d left they were still a bit nervous walking the forests around their home on their own, hearing all those tales of the raven monsters who snatched children out of the shadows, even though they weren’t a child and also knew everyone who had those tales was just full of it.

Which was…probably the point of a good tale?

The wolfdog huffed. “Oh? All right, then.” They took a pause to consider. Still looking at the cliff, at the waves and the sky and the grey-white birds that were wheeling past in the air – “Well, we were talking about the end of the world. How about adventure?”

he glanced upwards at the cloud painted sky as the hybrid suggested adventure as the genre for the story. "adventure huh?", he let out as his attention danced across the sky and back out to the crashing waves. he had plenty of interesting stories to tell, but choosing only one proved to be more difficult a task than he imagined.

"i was young when i left my homeland, not quite a yearling yet. early on in my journeys i met another youth about the same age as me. we got along well, shared meals, traveled together for the sake of protection, and then one day we got this genius idea." he laughed at the memory of their time together, and of all the terrible choices they'd made.

"he suggested we climb the highest mountain so that we might see the entire world and where we should go next. so we did - we climbed and climbed and climbed all the way to the top, but the problem was neither of us were mountain goats. so next thing you know we go tumbling down this mountain like a couple of boulders, and i smack my head right off this nasty looking rock. when i woke up there was no sign of my friend anywhere to be found, so i set off to look for him and have been keeping an eye out for him ever since." in a way, he supposed the story never really ended.

sorry for the wait on this!!

So, yes, Renard was expecting something that was straightforwardly a tale. Make believe, even if you dressed it up well enough that it didn’t sound make believe. But the man launched into a story that was not this, and appeared to contain no moral whatsoever, unless the moral was not to climb mountains.

In the quiet following his last words, the wolfdog regarded him quietly. The wind howled over their heads, the birds kept wheeling off the edge of the cliff, and yes, Renard could see why you might want to deny the finality of something like that.

“No once upon a time, hm?” Renard said lightly, angling their head. It was plainly enough a truth, and of course the kind you would share with a stranger. Not that Renard had anything to offer him but the quirk of a proverbial brow as they took it all in. Their mouth quirked. “I’ll grant you that. And hope for your sake that your story does have an ending. They can be comforting things.”

“Thank you for the story.” Seemed like they’d rather passed the point of introducing themselves, but for now they could go without bringing it up. They made a quick gesture of their muzzle to the sweep of the cliff on towards the horizon, and, in what would likely seem apropos of nothing, said, “This coast. Is this where you live?”