Ankyra Sound one gonna help me talk right, one gonna lay me down to sleep

@Chusi or @Kierkegaard maybe? AW otherwise, feel free to hop in :) 

ingram had not seen @Lycaon since he had stormed off, and worry was starting to seep in. while it was perfectly in character for lycaon to sometimes be consumed by melancholy, it was unlike him to be gone for so long. ingram had tried to follow his scent, but the beach was an unkind frontier for tracks -- the wind had all but scoured the sand of any sign of lycaon's passing, and the tide had washed away any remnants of scent worthy of tracking.

forlornly the boy kicked the shell of a crab along the beach, his long muzzle cast into the wind as he occasionally stared bleakly out at sea.

The ashen brute had remained on the coast. It had been Caiaphas’ wish. She had wanted to return to her home. Kierke could not blame her for this. Though his heart was that of a vagabond, he had known many to settle down - to become attached to their own setting. The ocean had never suited him much. He had always preferred the rough outline of a rocky mountainside. Still, the ghost would not leave her side; not again. She had been granted a permanent companion in the rugged mercenary. The bright-eyed sea wolf would not lose him. 

For the first time in a long while, the brute wandered the shore. The length of his limbs allowed him to move at a leisurely yet productive pace. His eyes followed the stray signs of life until he had plucked out a dark figure who was meandering not far ahead. With some interest, Kierkegaard watched the young figure move along in his forlorn pattern. The ghost did not slow his steps, but continued on toward the stranger. 

the crab scuttled lifeless along the strand, its dragging limbs leaving long arcs in its passing. ingram studied them for a moment, his attention elsewhere as he contemplated Lycaon's absence. 

he looked up in time to see a grim figure approach him; by all accounts the male was possibly the most imposing creature i ng ram had yet to witness. once, ingram had come across the spectral sight of a spirelike presence of an orca's skeleton half sunken in the sand. it had been a strange, intimidating and otherworldly spectacle and this male called to mind how ingram felt that cold day on the beach. 

"hi." he ventured unsurely, finding the end of his utterance posed more like a question than anything.

Molten eyes fluttered upward, scoping over the other male's figure with some moderate interest. The ghost had not yet come across this one, but he had always found himself as an austere creature of solitude. The dark-hooded Caiaphas had been the only one he had been drawn to – she would likely be the last. Kierkegaard had already vowed himself to her. For all of his wanderlust, his days of travel had come to an end; and though he was not fond of pack life, the ghostly figure knew that settling down on the coast would likely bring him to a peaceful conclusion. The mercenary had come to terms with the revision to his lifestyle and he was content with all that would come.

The soft-spoken whisper of a greeting brushed against his ears. Drawing his tail upward just slightly, the brute nodded his head to the youthful lad and then cast his gaze to the waters. “Are you pledged to Caiaphas' brood?” his guttural baritone struck the air after a moment. Pulling his survey of the sea back to the darkly cloaked young man, Kierkegaard waited for a response.

d-don't u talk like that about kierke ;-;

ingram was sure this spectral menance could split him in two with that cold gaze of his; he looked demurely to the shore and kept his mouth shut until the male returned his salutation. it seemed an eternity before he did; likely it had only been a few seconds, but ingram was acutely aware of the disparity in size and ability between the two and it thoroughly cowed him.

he thought of ways to answer the question succinctly. yes? maybe? he had avoided her for the same reasons he would now be avoiding kierkegaard: they were intense, powerful creatures and their aspects were chilled and shrowded. "yes? i mean, well, i guess i'm technically one of them. or was before my mom took me back." he still had mixed feelings about this strange upbringing -- but lycaon seemed mostly okay, so maybe things were not so bad afterall. "um. are you her body guard?"

”Hmm,” he mused softly at the first remark from the young boy. Kierkegaard truly hadn’t cared enough to know that the boy had once belonged to Caiaphas, or that he had been reclaimed by his mother. The question had been a simple one, and in turn he had anticipated a simplistic answer. The ghost knew that it was not wise to expect much of anything from others. So, he disregarded the first statement and found himself instead focusing on the inquiry that had followed. It unsettled him for a moment, causing his fur to bristle along his neck and shoulders. It stood like quills along his back. His sharp gaze found the others face for a moment while he thought of how best to answer the question.

Kierkegaard had never truly known how best to answer what his relationship with the dark woman had been. No one had really ever asked. He’d preferred it this way. It wasn’t anyone else’s business what he was to Caiaphas. To this boy, though... perhaps simplicity would serve him well. He regarded the male quietly before he inhaled and found his voice.

“I love her. I have loved her for quite some time.”

To admit it seemed foolish. The ghost had never even said the words aloud to himself, yet he knew them to be true. Kierkegaard had never been more fond of another body in his life. Not even his sister could match the affection that he felt toward the sea waif.

oh. awkward. ingram lacked the experience and the social charisma to handle such an exposed angle; he was nearly knocked back on his haunches as he processed the words. loved? for why? ingram quickly hid the confusion (and the little bit of bile) that rose to his features, for he found the wych possessed of a most unfavorable and unattractive aspect. each to their own, he guessed.

"um.. that's... really sweet of you." he tried to say, hopefully balming over the fact he had just committed major fax pax by nearly upchucking his lunch. to quickly change the subject, or maybe more quickly to stifle the awkward silence, he blurted: "i like someone too. i think i do.. i don't... i don't know if i like like her yet... but i think we're doing pretty swell." his tail wagged as he thought of chusi and he looked to kierkegaard hopefully. "she's not my girlfriend yet though."

Almost immediately, Kierkegaard regretted his decision. It seemed that opening himself and exposing such a tender emotion had broken down the dam, and the dark-furred young male was gushing out without much of an intent to stop. With each stumble over his own words, the ashen brute cringed and the edges of his mouth twitched downward. It had not been something that he would anticipate, but having had the situation thrust upon him, he wondered how he ought to approach it. For most things, Kierkegaard lacked all of the social graces that were necessary for dealing with even a modicum of conversation. He stood for a long moment with a tired expression before he could muster a response.

“You ought to figure that out,” he grunted in a tone that was more than habitual, but a deeply ingrained part of the ragged beast's makings. As if it were an after thought, Kierke furrowed his brow over his glinting optics and peered curiously at the darker male. “How old are you, boy?” he then inquired. The way he talked, Kierkegaard would not have put even a year on the young wolf's life, but he had been wrong before. The younger ones were as mysterious as the ocean to a creature like him. He feared he'd never truly understand them.

kierkegaard was evidently not as thrilled as ingram about the subject of chusi - slowly, ingram's enthusiasm deflated and he felt a rush of hot chagrin scald his face and stomach. he avoided kierkegaard's gaze as he spoke, noting painfully the dull apathy the grizzled man sported.

perhaps when ingram was kierkegaard's age, he might deploy such detachment; as of now he had not seen enough of the world to know better, and simply thought the male's listlessness was a result of him simply not caring for the subject, not a result of time's (and life's, and disappointment's) relentless deluge.

"i'll be two in may." he answered slowly, his expression somewhat doubtful as he considered how to politely excuse himself from kierkegaard's company. he didn't think the male would miss him, so he cleared his throat and began to make his leave. "i... i gotta go. figure it out, like you said." sheepish smile inserted. "um. good luck?" he cast one last puzzled glance at kierkegaard and then, if no objection was made, would skedaddle.

Ah, the grizzled brute thought to himself with a nod and a small frown. The boy was still young and had a lot to learn before he could craft and fine cynicism like Kierkegaard. Though he was polite enough to respond to the few questions that were asked, it was evident that the dark youth wanted to leave the company of the ashen brute. He was quick to explain his need to leave before he offered a few kind parting words and turned to withdraw from the present situation. The ghost did not mind that he should leave; it would allow him to be on his own. Bobbing his head to the young pitch-coated young man, Kierkegaard too turned away and disappeared along the beach.