Cerulean Cape ghost; is what they call you

the early morning sun shimmers off rippling waves; it is calm this morning, breaking in gentle laps upon the shore. kovas avoids the tide pools brimming with crystalline sea water and rich with life indigenous to the sea left stranded. it's a breakfast buffet just waiting to be dug into and his stomach lets out a small rumble at the promise. seafood is a delicacy and though hardly sustainable for the behemoth it's an indulgence. one that, for the moment, he denies himself. the morning is chilled — his breath passes from his black, leathery nostrils in white, wispy tendrils of steam that dissipates moments after.

the salt water is frigid. it laps at his paws and he barely suppresses the shudder that threatens to slither down his spine. he veers deeper into the waiting sea, allowing his body as it rises higher around him a few moments to adjust to the drop in temperature. he seeks to drench himself in the saltwater, to cleanse himself of scent, to be as ambiguous as he desires. and though he does not fear any from this place knowing him he prefers the anonymity all the same.

his baptism by the sea complete kovas exits the frothy water, giving his pelage a fierce shake to dispel the droplets of water as they cling to him, making his coat heavy. he haunches his shoulders against the bite of the wind but otherwise makes no further pretense of discomfort. he ventures towards the nearest tide pool and peers into the first shallow pool of water, salmon pink tongue drawing across his lips with hunger.