Ocean's Breath Plateau scarabs

No worries at all thank you for starting <33

The man had slipped away from the bustling event, seeking solace in the peaceful seclusion of the coast. After a meandering journey, he discovered a tranquil cove tucked away from prying eyes. With a tentative step, Machi waded into the soothing embrace of the cool waters, immersing himself in the gentle ebb and flow of the sea, the scent of life and decay, the sweetness of the wind and brine of the waves, of cool ripples and warm sand.

As the saltwater lapped against his skin, casting dancing patterns with an otherworldly glow, he began cleansing away the remnants of the day. With meticulous care, he splashed and scrubbed at his face, the sparkling powder that adorned his eyelids, a remnant of a demonstration during a trade earlier that day, gradually dissolving under the caress of the shimmering waves.

The man took a step forward, which became two, and then three, until the fur at his chest was submerged in the liquid sapphire, and he was powerless to the push and pull of the tide—not the helpless submission of a dog, but the reverence of a child returning to the mother from which all life sprang.

He allowed himself to be pulled further from the shore, willowy legs slicing through the water and sending up glittering beads of fractured light. With a deep breath, he dove under the waves, the salt stinging his eyes as schools of fish danced around him in colorful eddies.

It was in this manner that time lost all meaning. Machi allowed himself to be carried away by the currents, fully surrendering himself to this new world he found himself in.

When his lungs began to burn more than he could stand, the dove head breached the surf again, rubbing his eyes and blinking away great droplets of saline. He turned to reorient himself with the coast, hoping he had not drifted too far when he was greeted by the sight of a figure on the beach with fur that whipped in the winds like swaths of flame: the Red Priest.

The man turned kelpie dove once again to make his way toward the shore, nose protruding first from beneath the waves, followed closely by crocodilian opal eyes to greet the russet fellow, the fur about his face pooling in hypnotic patterns, swaying gently with the undulation of the tide.