baby they'll be singing from new york to the west of cali

Set on the coastline.

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From over his head, seagulls called and screamed.

Loud, and repetitive.

Over, and over, and fucking over again.

The same or similar sounds, all looped and placed on top of one another in a cacophony of fucking sound.

He stomped. His head down. His posture low and slouched.

The sand was wet and giving beneath his feet. The water lapped, rolled—moved, by gravitational pull—at his legs. White seafoam.

He stepped towards the beach.

And stopped, at what—who—he saw, standing there, brown and white and mottled.

His ears splayed back, and he made a face. He stepped backwards, back into the waves. Water crashing against his hocks and tail.

“What do you want.”

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Wandering away from the misty shores of the North, the High King travelled further South. He hated his senses being taken away from him when he was already lacking one significant one in particular. The sound of gulls squawking above through the crashing of wakes as he padded through the soggy beach. The birds were far from his favourite as their calls were less of a musical type and more as though they were choking on air, seeing how silly they would look with their heads pulled forward as though they had a bone stuck in their gullet.

A familiar blonde caught his eye as he trotted by. Remembering the heated lad, Hieronymous didn't quite want anything to do with him other than to continue on his little path undeterred. “Just passing through my friend~” he sang gleefully, wondering if that would set him off just as much as if he would have stood his ground and glared at the lad just as he did with him. The blond clearly had a problem with him, one of which Hieronymous didn't have the same feelings in return other than... well... just not liking the cut of his jib in general.

“Might not wanna step too deep in there, by the way, I have seen some ferocious-looking fish in those waters! Large pointed teeth and bodies that could dwarf the largest of wolves!” A half-lie as he had mostly heard of stories and tales instead of visually seeing them himself.

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‘Might not wanna step too deep in there, by the way, I have seen some ferocious-looking fish in those waters!’

“Fuck off, old man.” He growled. His ears pinned back. His paws, legs, belly, and tail tip sodden. His fur dark, with the pushing tide. He wasn’t like fucking Spooky, dumb enough to almost fucking drown in a knee-deep stream, much less the fucking ocean.

And besides, he was lying, right?

Another trick, like the fucking stone maze.

He licked his lips. Shifted, his weight from foot to foot.

He refused to look back over his shoulder at the water.

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“Already moving my friend!” Hieronymous had no intention of sticking around this guy should he decide to attack. Though it looked like the blonde was more afraid of the High King this time than wanting to attack seeing as he kept his distance and furthered himself into the waters than to initiate an interaction.

“I don't want to be witness to a tragedy after all.” He cried out in faux wails of sorrow, his smile hidden with his back turned to the younger man. “Then again... with the right one I hear it could swallow a wolf whole. Might not be much to see I suppose.” He paused in his stride for dramatic effect before continuing on after a second or two. “A legendary beast with dorsal fins jutting out of the water to announce their presence. Not a bad way to go.”

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Just as the stories were told, the fin did rise from the waters to silently announce her presence lurking nearby. She smelt something in the water... uncertain what it was other than food. The one thing keeping her from finding out what that was was the sandy shores too shallow for her bulk to swim to.

So she opted to circle. From one length of the beaches to the other, diving and rising every so often. Restless as her belly ached for something fatty. Well... preferably fatty, but frankly he wasn't all too fussy these days. With the warmer weather approaching, it meant that her metabolism would rise and the need for food would too to keep up with her beautiful strong figure.

Once more she patrolled the shallower waters that her body would allow, searching for whatever that smell was in the water.

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And no sooner than when Half-and-Half fucking left—

It appeared.

The distant shadow of something under the water. A single fin, crested, from the waves.

He hauled ass.

Loud, and graceless. The waves at his back.

“Fuck you!” He barked. “You fucking planned that, old man.” He growled. Close, on his heels.

Bullshit fucking crows, bullshit fucking cats, and now, apparently, bullshit fucking fish.

Nothing had autonomy.

Everyone was just everyone's useless fucking pawn, bereft, of any free-fucking-will.

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