Stavanger Bay so haunting and captivating

for @Skellige <3 riptide as promised ;D

The morning air was heavy with moisture, it pressed down upon him, hot and heavy as he stirred awake from the den he had claimed as his own. Habitually, in a way that was nearly obsessive, he looked over his shoulder towards the back of the den with a sharp movement, fiery red-orange gaze rapidly taking in the small collection of skulls and assortment of bones he'd collected to be sure that the gangster had left them alone. After ensuring that nothing was out of place the sea witch let out an audible sigh of relief. Despite that the gangster appeared to be a moral beast of his word the sea witch was always dubious. It was no secret (of course not, sharing a mind and body as they did) that he was an unwelcome intrusion to the gangster but despite it all the gangster had yet to break the promises he made to Riptide. He didn't touch his cache of medicines and poisons and he didn't touch the morbid collection the sea witch kept at the back of their den. Still, he compulsively had to check: just to soothe his own anxiety about it.

He exited his den and caught the scent of a fox still fresh. He followed it and when he caught it tore into it without abandon after carrying it back to the small clearing his den was located in. The famine was known to Riptide but only in a way that it was known to someone who hadn't experienced it. There was customary pity towards the gangster who had to endure it but no true understanding. He had tore a hip bone from the body and suckled the marrow from it as an extra treat, worrying the bone with his teeth feeling it splinter beneath the sharp force of his jaw.

When he was content he rose with a stretch and went about his business for the day....though what particularly was on his schedule was yet unknown to the sea witch. His shallow wounds from his fall had scabbed over and were just about healed and the bruises beneath his coat had faded: his muscles no longer ached and thus he no longer had to treat himself; and his medicine (and poison) cache was coming along nicely and though it could always use improvement he wasn't so sure that he particularly wished to hunt up medicines or poisons. So, he made his way to the beach, the sand warm as his paws sunk into it. The gentle roar of the Sea kept the spirits' never ceasing whispers away and for that the sea witch was grateful. He supposed he could collect trinkets the Sea left upon the shore, perhaps gather some more seaweed to dry for it's health benefits. The morning was young, however, and he had time to decide what he wanted to do yet.