Cerulean Cape i let all my love rot inside me

She hears him, and there is a mild shock of surprise as the crash of the waves against the shore is far from quiet, made noisier by the cry of the gulls overhead as they squabble and screech their displeasure at the soturi who tries to be deaf to the racket and thinks that the first bird that comes near him is going to become his next meal. Glacial gaze watches her as she looks over her shoulder and then, slowly, turns to face him in full. He had been right: he had been in the water: as evidenced by the trail of water droplets in the dry sand but as she shuffles towards him — just a few steps — his questions fade off of his lips without ever having been spoken. She fires off her own set of questions, instead, and the tundrian born titan gives a slight roll of his eyes. What was it with adults? Did they think every child they stumble across is lost? Every adult (or nearly every) he had came across during his travels had asked that question and unlike the very first time when Nyx had found him he wasn’t lost. He would never be that helpless again, he thinks. “No, I’m not lost.” There is a slight crack — he cringes slightly, thinking how much he hates puberty (which little does he know will plague him for at least two or three more months) — to his voice but he thinks the rasp, like smoke steeped whiskey might be a little more deeper than it was a few days ago.

“I’m not from around here,” The aspiring warlord responds. The scent of Blackfeather Woods has long since been shed from his fur, by the river water to lend him anonymity and further by the salt of the sea. He is no one, now. It is intoxicating: this freedom. This ability to shed his skin like a cobra. “but I followed a river all the way to this cape,” He gives pause, salmon pink tongue swiping across his jowls tasting the salt of sea from the sticky air upon his fur. “It’s just a little ways west. I’ll show you.” He gestures with his muzzle but in the end decides to show her the way and changes direction and begins to head towards the Tokoto River. “Why were you swimming in that water?” The tundrian realizes he has no name for it, never having heard the words “sea” or “ocean” spoken as he supposed there’s been no need for Nyx to mention them as Blackfeather Woods is plenty far away from it.