Cerulean Cape we have always known how to be monsters

He clarified that, no, he was not from here; but the name that fell from the man’s lips was unknown to the pearl. She cocked her head to one side as if it look at the ocean with a newfound perspective, velvet ears flopping against the lilt of her skull.”Atlan?” she questioned hesitantly, extending her neck towards the sea and lifting her black, button nose to sniff at the briny air. This ocean off of this cape smelled no different than any regular ocean — not that she had ever seen another ocean. The girl was a forest wolf through and though; she was quite accustomed to the bounty that wooded inlands provided, even if she never hunted it herself.

The girl’s body followed her nose and she rose from the stand, drawing herself up to her full height since the beginning of their meeting [as diminutive as that height was]. Kitsch took one step, then two steps towards the tide until the lapping waves licked and kissed at her ink-dipped toes. She turned to look over a gamine shoulder and questioned further. “Atlan… is a fish?” The princess was as unaccustomed to religion as she was to servitude; her parents were pious in name only and did not feel the need to punish her with stringency, and only ever wanted to pamper her with handouts.