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.

the morning sun reflects off of the surf and in to her eyes, igniting them with sharp amber spikes of color, like a shaft of light redirected off of a parked car; she winces away from it and scowls, but once the color blots fade from her vision the pale girl is hastily distracted by something within one of the aforementioned pools.

ten feet away (or thereabouts, she isn't mathmatecally inclined) a tawny wolf with a strong body bathes himself. she has been following him for a few hours now - probably not very covert despite her compact size and seemingly nimble steps - and kept a confident distance between them just in case he is a danger. the way he fearlessly enters the sea is something out of a romance novel; lucky for him Guimauve is not interested to that extent.

he is pretty though, in a might-kill-you way. she slinks closer with her nose down, poking at the pools and investigating for fish or crabs or loot, and seems mindless in her hunt.

kovas spares a brief glimpse from the corner of his eye at his ghost. she hasn't been overly covert about her shadowing of him and he's been moderately aware of her — aware in the same way that he's aware of a bird circling overhead. he knows that it's there but he does not give it his full and undivided attention. he goes on with his business and makes no effort to truly acknowledge that which he does not deem as a threat; and while following him around strikes him as unorthodox behavior she does not make to intervene or intrude and he, unperturbed by it in general lets her to her ...haunting.

she garners his attention now, however, as she slinks closer, her attention seemingly focused upon the pools that lay between them. a flick of the behemoth's tail follows the rise of his head and the fixation of his gaze upon her ghostly, pale form. his eyes assess her truly now, his own interest in the tide pools waning as he focuses upon the girl that has taken up haunting him for the past how many ever hours she'd first came upon him. she appears mindless in her search and subtly kovas lifts his chin and draws in the air, attempting to discern her scent.

"do you intend to haunt me all day, little ghost?" he inquires with an amused hum, giving the facade of returning his attention to the tide pool he stands before.

she drifts across the sand bit by bit, occasionally shifting so close to the sea that she resembles a segment of its foam; the cold touch of the salinated water doesn't bother her toes. the salt has been a part of her since birth - the indelible wind courses in her veins. the ocean is a part of her but all the same, as she looks through the pools, she is taken by surprise as a crab reaches out and grapples with her snout.

guimauve has never been a graceful girl; she is distracted when the stranger gives pause and speaks, and as her tiny triangular ears shiver, the crab latches upon her nostrils. those brown eyes widen, flashing as the light hits them. a sheen catches across them as she tears away from the pool and begins shaking her head violently to free her snout from the dastardly crab. it hurts! and it isnt exactly an appealing fashion accessory, ugh.

kovas thinks to warn her in the seconds in which a particularly determined crab's claws make to reach for her snout but by the time he summons the low rumble of his voice to his throat it has already latched on with a soft noise of it pinching close upon her flesh. his words die in his throat; discarded and no longer needed the behemoth instead, very briefly, grapples between amusement and sympathy. though he tempers the laugh that threatens to bubble and escape he snickers instead. it's not an amusing situation except that it is. he supposes that her current predicament is, partially, his own fault and moves away from his tide pool with the intent of offering some sort of aid as she attempts to shake it free.

he is not a coastal wolf by any means and is not overly familiar with sea life other than what he likes the taste of but still; he feels an obligation to try to assist. "hold still." kovas doesn't necessarily mean for his words to come out sounding quite like a command, as they undoubtedly had, but he is naturally brash and candid and in lieu of laughing it seems to be the lesser of two evils. "keep the crab touching the ground. it should let go of you." at least, it only made sense to him that flailing about would merely cause it to tighten it's hold as it then clings to keep itself from falling.

he moves to intercept her and to help her, but she is flailing about. they are opposites but they do not know it yet: she, the pirate's play-thing, and he the wanderer fresh to the shore. guimauve should know by now that protests do not help but she cannot stop herself from reacting to the pinch of the claws upon her nose. as comical as the vision is, soon her pink nose is a few shades darker, and all she can smell is blood as the panicked crustacean holds on for its own pathetic life. she does hear his suggestion though and seems to understand, although it takes time for the girl to calm down enough to follow through.

as soon as she assents - accepting the pain of the moment - the crab's feet touch stone and it releases its grasp, scuttling for cover. the alien beast does not head for a pool nor for the surf as it washes freshly upon the rocks; rather, it dives for the safe shadow cast by the other wolf uknowingly, fists raised in defiance and sharp claw-points flexing. the girl is left to stand there like a fool with her head canted low, watching as thin drops of blood drip across the barnacled stones. she lifts her head a moment later to regard the man, and offers him a small smile before licking her snout and smearing the blood across her upper lip.

kovas understands that it's easy for him to stand there and tell her not to react to the pain. he isn't the one experiencing it and beyond that it's only instinct to want to dislodge whatever is causing it. her pink nose — odd but utterly rare to him in it's color — has begun to darken a few shades beneath the pressure of the crab's claws. kavos keeps distance between them knowing that, physically he would be of no help. if she wished to dislodge the crab from her snout she would have to be the one to do it. he could try to rip it off of her, surely, but that would cause much more damage than was necessary.

the behemoth was right: when the woman calmed and was able to still herself the crab released it's hold and scuttled off ...directly into kovas' shadow. the man lets out a low grunt of disapproval and watches it with a cautious gleam in his eyes. after a moment of consideration he makes another guttural noise, partly a grunt and partly a hum, tips the feisty and unsuspecting crustacean over onto it's back with a large paw and bites into the soft undershell, feeling it give way beneath the pressure of his teeth and jaw.

kovas noses it towards her in the sand, missing the small smile she offers him as she attempts to clean her muzzle. "take it." kovas implores, lifting his head to look up at her then, though the gruff man leaves no actual room for rejection. the little ghost could, of course, reject it but he will not accept it back and if she does not take it then a scavenger no doubt will.