my life, my love, and my lady

It was always the sea.

His dreams took him there every time.

Usually, though, they weren't so... pleasant. Usually, it was the roaring in his ears, the water in his lungs, the stench of blood in the air. Not... this.

Water lapped gently at his feet, clear and cool. No storms, no teeth, no bloodshed. Just Hawkes and the endless, unknowable ocean before him.

If it was always like this, he'd go back to it. It called to him like a lighthouse in the distance, and he, a lost ship, followed blindly. But there was no comfort in it - no safe harbor. He fled it as soon as he realized he was succumbing to its pull.

But here, in this dream, cool water at his feet and warm sun on his back, the sound of birdsong in his ears and the feel of the breeze through his fur...

Well. Who would want to run from that?

---

@Luca

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There's a restlessness in Luca, this unruly thing within him that defied age and birth and death and dream, that he wouldn't be able to name even if he knew to try. It had always been there, inside him and throughout him, and its familiar presence as he sludged through the formless black was encouraging. "Ain't dead yet," the foreign marauder grumbled, a challenge low in his voice. Evident but quiet, as if he didn't want the gods to hear and take offense. 

Traditionally, Luca didn't pray at sea. He prayed on land, right before the anchor lifted. He believed the water to be a much thinner veil than the sky (and a closer one at that) and that the undersea gods were lurking and listening, waiting to snatch up a ship full of souls. As much as he loved the sea, it was something that demanded respect and fear in equal parts. 

He couldn't tell by sight where he was, but the dark felt fluid and in constant liquid motion, leading him until his nose detected sweet, floral notes and a pallid light emanated from somewhere up ahead. Ain't I? he thought with trepidation, wondering if he'd fallen through the dark's surface and drowned at some point. The earth beneath his feet and pebbles catching between his toes as he continued ambling along were strangely reassuring. Luca had never been grateful for land before. It felt somewhat sacrilegious, a betrayal of himself, but cold sweat had accumulated in his fur and his movements had become frenzied, trying to escape before the veil thinned completely and the gods accepted his challenge. 

"Well it can't be hell. I tink hell's pretty lonesome," he said by way of playing-it-cool greeting. But his dual-toned eyes observed the sudden stranger warily and the water lapping her paws even more so, and he gnawed on the end of a reed he'd plucked at some point during his frantic approach. Fear-scent lingered amidst the captain's salty cologne, mingling with distrust. He'd already decided that if the gods were to come for him, they'd take female form, and that he'd ended up here through dream, maybe death, felt like a siren's song if he'd ever heard one.

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A voice.

He'd thought he was alone. That this was some slice of paradise, granted to him without any strings attached. That he'd be able to relax, just for a moment, untethered from reality and free to enjoy the vast ocean ahead, as though it had never gripped him in its icy clutches and stolen the air from his lungs.

Well it can't be hell. I tink hell's pretty lonesome.

No. Hell was...

"Do ya, now?" he drawled, yellow eyes darting toward the figure, smirk creeping across his maw. Plastic smiles for a man he'd never seen before. There was a sourness to his scent - fear - but he smelled... homey, too. Salty as the ocean air around them. "Maybe yer hell's lonesome. Might not be like that for everyone."

Hawkes turned, then, facing the stranger now instead of the sea. "What's a' matter?" he asked, voice slow and measured, eyes half-lidded. Might as well make the most of this situation, he figured. A little cat-and-mouse never hurt anyone.

Except the mouse, on occasion.

"Somethin' on my face?" he continued, hoping to bring attention to the way the man was watching him. Careful, cautious. Smart.

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This might be the first time anyone thought Luca to be smart. Common sense often abandoned him when he needed it most, left him high and dry and probably a little beat up too. Something about this atmosphere must be affecting him in a way he didn't like, altering his senses so they were turned upside down. He'd never before been so... unwelcoming to the prospect of company. "Nothin' worse than too much time alone, I say." Even though, in the present circumstance, he was ambivalent at best about sharing space with someone. "Much time for thinkin', and thinkin' don't help no one."

The features of this siren were distinctly feminine, yet there was a rasp to the voice that seemed... masculine? Ah, one'a them lady-men. Maybe, then, this wasn't a siren. Could they be male? Trying to puzzle that one out was bound to make his head throb so Luca decided not to think on it anymore. 

Either way, he didn't think he liked the way he was being appraised. Not like the delicious morsel he was sure that he was, but instead like an object, a toy to be batted around and chased. Another curiosity of this place, when normally that would make his heart quicken and his blood sing. "A matter is... things, people, wolf. Nose and eyes and ears on your face—all matter. Or I matter to you or you to me. Feeling, yes?"

Deciding to allay his own fears, the captain started to amble forward a little ways closer to the water. It looked clear, not so dark, and he wanted to not be so damn worried. That did not suit Cap'n Lobo's philosophy. "You are siren?" he asked before getting any nearer, eying the predatory delight in the other's expression. Sure seemed like one, feminine or otherwise.

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