Sea Lion Shores you're a drifter, shape shifter

@Caiaphas B) This may be full of typos or inconsistencies, I thought it would be a fun thing to write it backwards for some reason.

Aesop walked with the sea on his left, along the rocky line between the shore and the unknown land beyond. He had quickly discovered that walking great distances on the sand was difficult and tiring, that the ground would shift beneath his paws and make things a whole lot more difficult than he was willing to put up with. So he stuck to terrain he was more accustomed to, the short, brown blades of grass that struggled up through the sand and rocks. It was the best of both worlds, really, because the ground was more solid, but he could still feel the soft sand beneath his paws.

He had left the edge of the forest before the sun began to peek over the horizon. The world was grey and quiet save the cries of gulls and the crashing of the waves. The smell of salt was strong in the air, and Aesop felt young. Invigorated. He began to walk north along the shore, pleased to pay witness to all the wonders that unfolded with the miles. He was most interested in the sea lions, though he didn’t have a name for them. Interested, but they were also fucking weird, so he kept his distance until he could ask someone else about them. There were many things he encountered that he didn’t have names for.

It was well into the afternoon when he decided not to head any further, instead deciding to work his way towards the ocean, since the day was warm and it wouldn't be as cold. He thinks? Wolves don't know much about thermodynamics.

ty for starting!! well goodness it's a good thing you didn't post it backwards.. my poor little head couldn't handle that LOL

The thing that sucked the most about muzzle injuries was that you couldn't suitably see or soak them. Caiaphas stood woefully in the ocean with the greywater flush about her skinny elbows. She looked wretched -- abject -- her expression one not even a seal pup drowning could rival.

She had tried a few times to immerse her muzzle, but sharply retracted each time. The cold of the water flooding her ears was a miserable sensation -- more miserable than the dull pain that wrought her face. With a pinched expression Caiaphas collapsed, sinking underwater like a harbour seal save for there was no grace in the action.

She emerged from the cold saltwater with a gasp and paddled wildly to shore, hastily ready to escape the frigid clutch of the sea. As she trantered (a sad mix of a trot and an ungainly canter) towards the swashline she saw wolf she did not recognize. Instantly she grew somewhat defensive, her expression somewhat squirrely. Not bothering for introductions, she stared at him quite plainly -- her expression glowering immensely as he drew closer.

Christ, I wouldn't even be surprised if I did that at this point, tbh.

Rather unwisely, Aesop didn't pay much attention to the water itself. He spent some time glancing across the water to the island that lay there. He... wasn't sure what it was. An island? Maybe, but it seemed too far away to be an island. Was it... was it another continent? He knew they were there, across the ocean. That land mass seemed far enough away.

Probably a continent.

He came to this conclusion about the same time as he realized that there was a wolf in the water, steadily making her way to the shore. An altogether strange woman, whom he first mistook (in a pants-shitting moment of terror) as a sort of wraith. A wraith she was, slight and strange in every manner. Still, he was curious, and so he continued to approach her cautiously.

And boy, did she not look pleased to see him. Still, he was not deterred. "Hey now, miss. You don't seem too pleased to see me. Got something on my face or what? From the look of it, you do. What happened to you?" He hadn't noticed from farther away, but it appeared that she had some taken some damage to her muzzle. From experience (the evidence of which he bears proudly,) he knew how damn inconvenient they were.

Caiaphas was quite aware she appeared immensely unfriendly. So unfriendly she was surprised to see this did not deter the pale fellow. The fierce Siren turned her ugly muzzle to the side as he spoke, her expression somewhat jeering as she pulled forth from the frothy water.

Never one for minding her manners, the skeletal coywolf shook with abandon before Aesop, uncaring if the frigid water from her pelt assailed him. She could tell from a distance he was a wolf of the Bay, and having never been one possessed of fondness for her neighbors, her demeanor remained rather cold. "A cat." She replied dryly, her tone as unwelcome as her manner. "What is a wolf of the Bay doing in the lion's keep?"

Aesop felt he had little to fear. She was strange and hostile, but small. Perhaps he was underestimating her, but at his size he felt he had little to fear from her. And so, despite her attitude, he remained friendly, yet alert as she emerged from the foam and waves.

She shook, showering him with cold and brine. He wrinkled his nose in distaste and drew himself up a little larger, as if to remind her who was the greater of the two. An intimidation tactic, though that wasn't his goal. "Unfortunate," he tutted, "you're a pretty girl. Scars give you dignity, though. Sorta suits you, I think." Half of that was a lie. If she was beautiful, it was in the way that tempered steel is, sharp and cold. Aesop preferred the beauty of a flower, and if it had to be sharp, a rose. He shrugged, then attended to her question, "just taking a walk, like old men like me do sometimes. Don't see any lions 'round here, though, so I think I'm alright."

Inadvertently, her shake had caused the male to draw up to his true height -- and Caiaphas was curtly reminded of their disparity in sizes. This was no rare encounter -- she, a feral shrimp in every aspect, oft felt the diminutive clause of a monolith world.

His lie was inspected indifferently, in the manner a child would survey a bland and ill-favored toy. Her countenance remained cheerless despite the compliment bestowed. Much like the sea -- joyless and grim. The adulation Aesop had imparted remained ignored. "Lions." She repeated, as if he had not heard her the first time. "Watery dogs with sleek hide and fat meat." A shock of pink tongue darted from her jaw hungrily, lancing her teeth as her appetite rose.

Ideally, their encounter would pass civilly, if not in a more friendly manner. She had already captured his intrigue with her knowledge of the lions- the beasts he had passed before, he presumed. What more could she tell him?

And he wasn't keen on making enemies so soon after relocating, either. It was bound to happen, this he knew, but he had hoped it would be when he was more established. Aesop hoped he would still get that luxury. She hadn't seemed swayed by compliments, or at least not the ones he was offering. This was no great loss to him, and his need to impress did not run so deep that he would press the matter.

"Lions," he repeated wryly, now smiling slightly, "are they dangerous? Are they prey? Tell me more, miss... I do believe I never got your name. A damn shame."

The stygian-helmed wretch was most unlike Aesop, having possessed no such thought for hopes of civility. To her an encounter remained an encounter, hostile or otherwise. It seemed the mention of the sea-wolves had piqued Aesop's interest, for he pressed for more knowledge.

She turned her attention down the strand, where the fat beast lay basking over-ripe like sausage in the pale sun. "σφραγίδα" She uttered, presuming he would find the tongue foreign. "Aye, them's meat. Fat and succulent, juicy slugs." Where they dangerous? Her fierce eyes gleamed. Impressively dangerous. Her mouth slavered as one seal particularly close to them drew her attention. "Caiaphas." While she did not press for his name, her expression told clearly she expected some sort of moniker in return for her unusual honesty.

Well, now that she'd proven knowledgeable (to what extent he did not know, but he planned on finding out, so long as she'd let him) he was far more inclined to hang around. More and more, she interested him, particularly after her strange utterance. He could put up with a little abuse, verbal or otherwise, so long as he got what he wanted. They didn't have to be friends, but there was still much profit to glean from the encounter.

"Caiaphas," he repeated, the name awkward on his tongue, "Aesop. What'd you say earlier? It was another language, yeah?" He followed her hungry stare to the nearby beast. He didn't trust that they were not dangerous, though they seemed fat and lazy. It's breath steamed as it lay, and he turned back to her. "Seems like you got a good feel for the area, care to help a guy out?"

It seemed dubious a wolf of the Bay knew not of the sea's fare -- Caiaphas paused, examining the goliath before him. An imposing piece of flesh, larger than her own kin -- with fur the color of eggshell. He smelled distinctly of the Bay's fold, and faint was the trace of the Bay's insufferable jarl.

With a hunter's prowess only a wolf of the coast could attain, Caiaphas started to trot. His first question was ignored -- a frustrating habit Caiaphas had no intention of quitting. His second question was answered by way of her motive -- and it was clear as she stalked towards the sea-dog that her only intent was to hunt. "They are fast once in water, and dangerous." She hissed, her head low. "You come along the swashline and drive them inland -- else you lose any hope of catching them." She changed course then, directing herself to the water slowly.

The unfortunate seal was not yet wary of their progress -- though it would not be long before it was alerted by the honking babble of its kin.

Much to his frustration, Aesop's first question (and the more pressing one, because he had a love of strange languages and the cultures that went with them) was left unanswered. Instead, the woman instead began to move along the upper reaches of the waves and foam. "Hey, where're you-" Aesop began, before just following suit. He didn't move with as much grace as she, the sand still foreign to him, but he followed just behind her, ready to watch and learn.

Aesop adopted a similar stance, stalking in her wake, nodding at her words. So they were dangerous, he learned, but only in the water. Well, he liked to think he was dangerous as well, but only on the land. Maybe they weren't so different after all.

Her strategy seemed sound, and with keen eye and not-so-sure foot, he turned with her.

Any protest Aesop had for Caiaphas' deliberate dodging of the question was short lived as he realized her goal. She dropped her head, stalking towards a rather fat and sleek seal several meters from the water. She took a broad approach, swimming out innocuously while the paunchy slug slept.

And then, the slender thing pulled herself from the water wretched and sopping, a high shriek parting her muzzle as she tore towards the seal. The sea-lion, rocked awake by the gruesome noise, floundered in the sand as it regained its senses. Yet all it saw was a waiflike predator flying towards it -- with stupendous heaves the seal flopped away from the sea and towards Aesop blindly.

Unfortunately, Caiaphas was lying when she said they were not dangerous -- and as she saw her target turn towards Aesop she slowed down maliciously. If he happened to look her way she would make sure she looked as if she was assisting, but in truth, the lissome scullion had no intention in bringing the seal down today.

love the new avatar B)

When the coywolf plunged into the icy waters again, Aesop trailed behind, simply wading in until the waves crashed against his chest. His approach was narrower than hers, but he felt it was safest. Should the beast awake and realize their intent, he would have an easier time getting out of the water (where, he now knew, they were most dangerous) than he would if he were swimming. It put him closer to the beast, but as he understood it, they were not dangerous on land. And he didn't see how they could be, as they were large and clumsy beasts. Though he had yet to see the inside of its mouth, he assumed the teeth were dull, made for eating plants.

Because his attention had been on the target, not on his companion, he started when she cried out. His head snapped to her, and he began to tear from the water as she had. Aesop now took a wide approach, coming to one side of the animal. This put him right in its path as it turned, which he immediately decided was the last place he wanted to be. Because now he wasn't so sure what to do. He couldn't run, that would make him look like a coward. But he sure as hell didn't know how to kill it. The neck looked thick, and he didn't know if it was so thick that he would not be able to reach a vein. Aesop sidestepped its approach, then, and decided that the best way to learn was to do. He then launched himself at the beast's neck, attempting to pierce its thick hide.

That seemed to little other than enrage the beast, and so he disengaged himself and danced back, throwing a sharp glance at the coywolf. "The fuck am I supposed to do with that?" he yelled, trotting with a wide berth between himself and the sea lion.

omg i just about died when i saw it!1

The scullion adopted a smooth mein of lamb-like innocence, her eyes soft and doe-like as Aesop's sharp voice truncated the air. About them the wind whipped and brine stung her nostrils -- with a seemingly clairvoyant smile, the waif spoke. "Why, kill it." There seemed a purling quality to her voice, as if she were most pleased by her actions.

And she was -- though her only malcontent came from the fact that Aesop was yet unstruck by the panicking seal's wide fins.

Though much of his attention was dedicated to keeping away from the flailing beast, whose anger seemed to rage on the more for its inability to strike him, he did keep an eye on her as well. And though she appeared innocent, he thought she held no love for him from the beginning, and so he suspected she was pleased by this turn of events. Even more he was afraid of seeming a coward in front of her, though he now held her in little regard. "Real funny, bitch," he shouted at her above the din of wind and waves and the calls of the sea lions, "just you fuckin' wait."

But what could he do? There was no way he could kill the thing, not when he knew so little of it. Not when he was alone. He continued to dodge it, running in circles around it. Perhaps that would tire it out? And perhaps she would get bored and leave, and then he could flee without any of the shame.

i'm gonna fade out phas.. thanks for the awesome thread!!

She watched with a bemused twinkle to her eye as Aesop flitted about the floundering beast -- and when the vitriol of his words accosted her she issued a delighted trill. Seized by a witch's humor, the sprite cackled -- a cruel riposte in response to Aesop's unfortunate circumstance.

Still besieged by the mirth of her own wit, the waif struck up a trot -- and with lofty steps, transported herself away from Aesop's presence. She hoped that while he was focused on the sea-dog that she could slip away -- all the while chortling in high spirits.

right back at you!!!

The winds carried to him the sounds of her mirth, and he growled at her retreating figure. He called a parting, "fuck you!" before she was gone, leaving him free to do as he wished with none other than the sea lion to see. One he was sure she was gone, Aesop took off, heels digging into the sand as he fled from the blundering beast and began to head home. None of this was done, however, without noticing that she departed up the sea shore towards the north.