Gilded Bay Standing in the open light

His travels have made him much too weary, but he doesn’t stop. No he’ll break to dip his head in a reverent prayer every so often, but otherwise keeps his head high and drives forth. His oddly colored eyes set hard on the horizon, he has yet to see another soul in this place. Besides the mindless stare of a rabbit or perhaps the weary eyes of passing deer. Once already he’s seen a small family of coyotes, yet no once has spoken to his reverence since his human girl died. Oh how he misses the words of faith speaking from her soft lips into the perked pink saucers of his ears. 

He strides into the sandy coast, his pale form looking at home on the coast. He drifts into the receding shoreline, paws getting wet, he walks until his chest is soaked with the saltwater that will cause his sensitive fur to curl later. He stands here all on his lonesome, eyes akin to the sky and sun high in a summer day he gazes out into the ocean. He closes his eyes and prays. For what? No one but he will know.

a monstrosity. that's what this guy was wading in the water, his form appearing as if an iceberg gone to sea.

bijou peered at the man curiously. his eyes were shut and his mouth was moving, but she heard nothing over the spray of salt and whip of wind.

she decided to play a game: how long, before he saw her? the wind was in her favor for now, but for how long?

bijou's frame skulked forward in a dromaeosaurid crouch: ears flat, eyes on the prize.

She can have a good time and scare this big weenie ;D

The never ending voice of the sea in his ears has him distracted. Not only by that, but by the prayer he mouths on deafened pink lips. Though even as he stands with bated breath he doesn’t hear the stranger wolf behind him. Her footsteps are much to quiet, pared with his one track mind for praying, and the noisy whispers of the sea. He won’t see her coming.

bijou advanced, grim rook setting up the chess board's final play.

she moved surprisingly lightfooted and fox-pawed for one of her size; call it sand, or adept stalking -- bijou had hours of experience in tormenting her siblings.

the white priest's back was to her, guarded by foamcaps. just a few steps more and she would slip into the water a serpent, doing her best to remain undetected and noiseless. should she make it to the breakers she would dive underwater, aiming a nip at his hock while he was preoccupied with whatever god it was he prayed to.

He is completely unsuspecting of the horrid sea dragon that slinks into the water and slithers their way towards him. Moving lithely through the salty current, he doesn’t even hear her, not one bit. Yet, yes as she’s about to bite him he flicks open his eyes ominously. It’s that feeling you get when you feel someone’s eyes watching you, or when something is hovering close to you. It’s not enough to avoid the bite that connects frighteningly with his skin. It’s not painful really, but it definitely does spook him.

The fur standing up on the back of his spine making him look just as much as some sea monster as the one that snuck through the tide to grab at him. Water would splash about wildly and bubbles raise to the surface as he jumps away from the area. Assuming it is just a fish or some shit that gave him the little nibble, his baby blues search the water for the beast who did him dirty by sneaking a bite on him.

borne by the sea, there was little graceless about the way bijou slipped underwater. her eyes burned when she opened them, but her target was acquired: pulling forward, bijou trawled along the seafloor and pushed hard with her hind end upwards once contact was made.

she burst from the water with a spray of sea and a grin, eyes fastened on the man who looked so startled he may as well been a quillback rockfish; so upright were his spiny masses of fur that bijou snickered as she coasted along around him.

rather than use her words, she encircled him -- waiting for any outcry or accusations to be flung her way.

When his brain registers that it indeed was not a fish that bit him he almost dies when she emerges from the water like a hydra. This unholy creature from the depths of the waters that were known to eat men, whales, and entire ships alike. Yet this is no hydra, it’s just another wolf and he’s sighing at the sight of her when the water settles. 

He’s been splashed rather efficiently so his white fur sticks to his form as he looks to them. An expression of obvious, but comical, disappointment shown on his handsome mug. 

“Why?” He asks. He’s being serious but he can’t help a smile that starts creeping up on his lips. Now that he knows that she was probably just fucking with him he’s not as pissed but still. To her though, surely this would be hilarious.

this one had a good sense of humor. bijou wondered how long before that fount drained dry.

"things that belong on land, do not fare well at sea." she smiled, a single fang glittering between her crooked gums. "always wondered what wolf tasted like. never got close enough to a shark to ask." waves rolled off of bijou's narrow shoulders as she began to wade for shore. "if you stand there much longer, i expect a meal will be made of you."

White-blue eyes take in her form, the disheveled look to her fur and the interesting but not all that trustworthy glint in her eye. Not to mention that smug smirk she’s wearing. All he says to her first sentence is, “You’re not wrong.” He hums back, his deep voice holding humor in it.

Then he squints the slightest amount as she mentions wondering what wolf tastes like. His smile still persists though. “If you’ve wondered why never try? And make a meal out of me? I do look delicious don’t I?” He compliments himself shamelessly and with a rumble of short laughter. 

Wading out of the water he, languidly shifts closer to her to converse, but stops at a comfortable distance. “O’Mally Valentine. Who’re you?” He asks then with a slight upwards tilt of his chin to her. His intricate voice much softer now.

bijou was rarely wrong on two accounts: her observations of the world at large, and her quips about men. at least this one conceded to the possibility she might be right -- rare form for a man, if you asked her.

she followed the brute as he forged ahead to shore, his massive paws dragging mini-wakes in the swirling water. "never had the chance." bijou remarked off-handedly, another roll of her shoulders given in lieu of a genuine answer. "bijou. where's your camp?"

O’Mally is idly making his way to the shore. Once there he shakes all the water from his pelt. The droplets splashing and slinging everywhere. If he got some on his company he’d side eye her with a teasing smile. 

He can already feel his fur curling and knows he’ll look like a god damned poodle when he’s dry. He outwardly sighs and looks to her then. A quirk of a white brow and he’s smiling at her as if she isn’t trustworthy at all. Though he does him at her as she says her name.

“I’m not sure I should tell you. You go first.” He quips back. Obviously just yanking her chain.

bijou followed the snowcloud up the wrack line, feeling the tug of the waves as they receeded. she did not mind the droplets that rained from his shaken ruff.

this one knew her game, it seemed.

hardly a surprise, considering she had treated him as if he were shark bait.

"i have no camp." bijou announced - were she human her hands would be turned skyward in an open-palm gesture of i-dont-give-a-fuckery. no street urchin this she-wolf was -- her base was the open wildnerness and nothing less.