Ankyra Sound even the earth no longer remembers

the morning is warm and sticky with the heaviness of both ocean brine and the moisture of a recent rain. scarab examines the fat droplets of rain on the green leafs of a bush clinically as he passes. lapis lazuli blue gaze does not linger, instead focusing on the well-worn path towards the beach. at almost three months old his capabilities of understanding are growing and sharpening and though it has yet to directly affect him he understands that something big has changed in rusalka. an upsetting change, perhaps. he watches quietly and studiously wondering how disturbed the balance of justice has become. unbeknownst to scarab, a frown has settled upon his lips as he hard earth gives way to pliable and damp sand under foot. it's warm and shapes to his too-large for him paws as he heads down to the water.

the sea is calm this morning, the tide still high and a glimpse colorful piece of seaglass: ruby red catches his eye and he swoops down upon it like a greedy magpie. he noses it free of the frothy seafoam and jetsam and inspects it, trying to decide if he should keep it for his own collection ( highly tempting ) of half beautiful and half morbid things or if he should gift it to rosalyn and erzulie. while his siblings were the stars of his life, his mothers were the suns of his life: blazing bright and unyielding. undecided, scarab graps the smooth piece of seaglass delicately betwixt his jaws and carries it with him down the beach, eyes scanning for more pieces of sea-jewels.