Gilded Bay i live in the shrubbery, cause that’s all i crave

the sea is soothing to him like a lullaby, despite the uncomfortable memories it sometimes provokes within him. nevertheless, sirin is a seadog at heart. he draws in a deep breath of the salty tang; stinging and cold as it rolls off the tide. the familiar stench of fish — making up a majority of his diet — draws him to the discarded remains ...and the wolf that stands nearby it. moonbeam gaze takes him in for a moment; deciding. `ey, stick boy. sirin bellows out; tact never one of his strong suits. i have fish bones? he asks, gesturing towards the remains with his muzzle.