Ankyra Sound watch me

the day is ripe with a chill that creeps thru his thick, course winterfur and steeps into the marrow of his bones; that he cannot chase away. the whip of the salty seabrine surely doesn't help but as earlier in the prior year titan spire had extended it's reaching claim with the victory over the bay that neighbored it; absorbing their numbers into a sister pack so as to not stretch their resources too thin. kharybdis, having been tasked by his imperatrix with keeping a keen and at times, commanding eye upon them to be sure that their whimsical and yet ferocious third of their furies trio did let her whims ruin what had been given to her ( albeit bloodied and begrudgingly ), freely travelled between the two and grew accustomed to the salty air: a mixture of algae and fish and salt that had initially been an assault of stench to his senses.

in a soft swell of nostalgia, he peers 'round the sound whose beach he makes a trek along — staying clear of the frothing waves — and thinks of home. or half of it, anyway. a forlorn glimpse at the overcast skies overhead, the grey clouds hanging dismal and bleak overhead, wondering if it planned to rain ( and hoping it did not ); kharybdis pushes inland in the search of shelter.