Gilded Bay Scrubs are too far down the line

The grains blessed his paws with soft, gentle ruggedness as his limbs carried him quite deftly over the surface. The blank emptiness at the forefront of his vision rarely bothered him, always the expected norm however hard his willpower wished to gaze upon each and every shape and figure. Yet for a creature who had only ever known a world of pearl and alabaster shades, he needed not to dwell in that compartment; finding comfort in the multitude of strange and unearthly voices that blessed the coast, as well as the softly tingling vibrations that made contact with his pads with every step. In the mind of the ribboned fellow, it was a perfectly simple world that needed no change.

"O come now let me seek joy within, these comforting waves below. How gracefully they dance and sing, like sirens to and fro." It was a simple melody he had invented from the very depths of his own spirit, a poem of such. If others took a disliking to it, like the Storm, he wouldn't mind. Simply voicing his enchantment was enough to banish whatever uncertainty had infiltrated his thoughts.

-

It was a while later that the man returned to his rows, the body of a whelk held gently between his teeth. So engrossed in his relevant carol, he did not notice the presence of a new being until they almost collided. "My apologies, sir!" he gasped, dropping the pointed shell at his paws. "I will cease my singing."