Ocean's Breath Plateau won't give pause until the blood is flowing

Lovecraft. A strange name, one she hadn't ever heard before. It hit her again that she was somewhere foreign, with both old and new customs attached to the land. New names. New titles. Other packs. Other landscapes. Lovecraft didn't seem very phased by it - and if he was, he didn't show up. Instead, the man confessed he hadn't ever seen the ocean.

Wren chuckled softly. "I used to live by it - not this one though" if he was going to be truthful, she would slip a few of her own "smelt like iron and fish" her liver nose wrinkled, taking in the coast "but the people were kind. Welcoming. Some of them taught me to fish." She recalled the lessons - they were now precious memories. Of a woman with albino fur, of a man that enbodied the ocean itself. Personafied.

Compared to that man, Lovecraft was softer. It didn't mean that was bad though. She just missed the man's roaring laughter and her awkward stumbles around him. "You get used to it." Wren remarks, giving a confirming nod to Lovecraft.