Ankyra Sound o green world, don't desert me now

It would have been easy to be swept away by the waters. All it would have taken was for his limbs to give way beneath the firm pull of her cold grasp, and Kierkegaard would wash away without another sound to the wilds. Still, when he looked at Caiaphas, he did not want to leave again. As long as he believed this to be true, the ashen brute would stay where he was. Grimnismal would provide a good home to him, as long he provided for them. While he was not fond of immersing himself in a pack, he wanted to do so for Caiaphas.

She regarded his question with her honesty, and followed it with a simple statement and fluttered to him on the breath of the wind. Kierkegaard frowned thoughtfully before he bowed his head and then returned to face the sea. “You are not wrong,” he confirmed with a quiet rumble of his voice. While he was a simple beast, the reasoning behind his dislike for the sound was not quite so simple as unhappiness. Trying, he could only imagine that it fell on one reason:

“I have never had a home, and so this is the closest I will get. Perhaps it will grow on me,” he spoke to her in a softer tone than he had before. Pulling his vision from the ocean and settling it back to the dark hood of her face, the ghost attempted a fleeting smile before it vanished. He wanted to try for her; he wanted to stay there so that she might have her home again too. For as graceless as Kierkegaard was in most social situations, she was always the easiest for him to read. Caiaphas cared for her home, and so he would try until he could not try any longer – for her.

Fixing her with a curious gaze – as though he were trying to collect every feature on her sharp face for safekeeping – the brute released a quiet sigh. “It will be nice to stay with you. That will make me happy.” And though the ragged man had truly never experienced happiness, she would be as close as he could get.