Gilded Bay MuscleBob BuffPants

professionalism!

it was never born into the body of a coyote to be professional, and yet that was all tuna let herself behave as while under the walls of the palace. but for now, she was here and the rebirth of the ocean creates a wellspring of emotions that tuna cannot quite explain. there is freedom, and somehow freedom is something she longs for, but that freedom clashes with tuna's friendships within the palace, within her own heart.

a voice catches her attention, a wayward face that tuna does not recognize. and at first, the fellahin almost felt the embarrassment of having been caught by a trading partner in these parts of the ocean, in part of her own vacation! but as she looks over this individual and smells no akashingo or moontide, tuna can breathe in a small sense of relief.

they seem a bit skittish, that or the foam is causing her hearing to skip because tuna could swear she heard a tentative stutter. "not fr'ehm tha' ocean, nah," she shakes her head and her coat to rid herself of the excess water, "jus' visitin' n' tradin' here, friend." tuna would take a few trot paces closer, but still staying that respectable distance away to not crowd the stranger.

a tongue runs over her black lips, and her black kohl-winged eyes watch over this creature with curiosity. "name's tuna!" she says to the counterpart warmly with a wag of a pencil thin tail, "an' who might yew be?"