Coconut Grove When I was older, I was a sailor

it takes her a moment to realize that she probably should have kept her second statement to herself. something like that won't make sense to literally anyone else-- but she never thinks before speaking. her mind dazes about as she tries to come up with something that makes a lick of sense to the wolf before her. smacking her lips with her tongue nervously, her eyes anxiously dart from left to right, her tail curling itself slightly between her legs. she coils back slightly as words absently escape from her chest, ,,it's complicated,'' she starts, her voice is quiet, almost as a whisper. ,,i'm familiar with the ocean. the sky, the clouds, i hear their voices and simply heed their calls.''

... and with that, off she goes. the divine tangent that she recalls to be her 'tragic' life. a bubble forms itself deep inside her throat as she swallows, hoping to push it further into her stomach but unfortunately for her, it would not be going anywhere. nervously licking her lips once more, she continues in a hushed voice. ,,i-i'm not big on sand.'' is all she offers the stranger, which wasn't entirely a lie-- sure, she didn't mind the sand, but would much prefer the wreckage of dilapadated ships and cobble from the greedy humans who thought they could disrespect her seas and get away with it.