Shimmering Sands let me be your killer king

The leviathan knew very little of medical maladies, and so the peculiar nature of the male was nothing more than just that… peculiar. Skellige watched on as the creature seemed to squint at him through optics that were plagued by a concussion. Were he to have known this, he would have simply set himself onward and forgotten the stranger in the sands. Instead, he awaited the response to his query.
 
Once the answer struck his ears, the inky brute nodded his head in understanding. The silver-cloaked beast was without a master; in other words, he was without a home. This was something to be found troublesome by most, but the sea king was reaching into the far corners of his mind in hopes of finding answers to the many questions that flitted about inside of his skull. The brute before him reminded Skellige strongly of his younger brother Jagoda, but it was not bothersome to the man of the sea. There was – once again – a familiar way about the nature of the stranger. So the leviathan did not depart. He remained to hear the rest of what the silver-toned male had to say. What was unveiled was as vague as the creature before him.
 
Perhaps it had been destined by the mystics that this creature should show up on the shores, knocked into the sands and grass by some unknown force. “The world has a strange way of correcting the paths of those who wander through,” he returned to the citrine-eyed stranger. “Perhaps they had sent you to these shores with a purpose in mind,” Skellige then ventured carefully. He did not know the beliefs of this wolf, or who he spoke to in his dark times. The leviathan did know that he would be frowned upon if he should not answer the sign that had been sent by the great ones.
 
“Perhaps you have found what you were searching for.”