Got a spark in your heart so strike it
His navy blue pull-over hoodie has large, bold font across the back that says 'HADAMA', and below it, in smaller and much more delicate type, 'the Tidebreaker' curls poetically. On the front, in paler blues and whites, an image of Hadama's stony face is depicted. It sits overtop his gray sweats, each an effort to fend off the chill that sweeps up from the cool sea. He is still wearing slides though, because fuck walking through sand in sneakers, it gets all up in the laces and the cracks and coats the inside permanently with beach glitter. He does however, have on toe socks to compete with the chill of the exposed shoe, designed to look like a shark is swimming up his ankle to bite his legs where it vanishes under the roll of his pants.
At his side he's lugging a wagon that looks more like a child's toy than anything else, but he's loaded it up with driftwood and twigs as he plods along. He'd told the town he'd help, so he's on driftwood duty, since his suggestion of stockpiling gummy worms didn't earn a lot of favorable responses. Occasionally, he stoops to pluck up a pretty shell or glint of sea glass, stuffing those treasures in his sweatshirt pocket, his collection giving his step a mild jingle.
He passes the kids and their castle with a wave, although he has to trade a few of his pieces for some seashells in order to make it past without being shot, which seems fair. He does pick up his pace though, not certain they wouldn't rush him from behind and take his entire wagon like some sort of seaside heist. "Hey!" he calls out when he sees Ronin, figuring another adult might make the children reconsider. He waves with one of his freshly claimed sticks, the seaweed still curled around it like a wet, limp, flag. "You got DD too?" he asks, a bit breathless from giving urgency to a very non-urgent wagon.
At his side he's lugging a wagon that looks more like a child's toy than anything else, but he's loaded it up with driftwood and twigs as he plods along. He'd told the town he'd help, so he's on driftwood duty, since his suggestion of stockpiling gummy worms didn't earn a lot of favorable responses. Occasionally, he stoops to pluck up a pretty shell or glint of sea glass, stuffing those treasures in his sweatshirt pocket, his collection giving his step a mild jingle.
He passes the kids and their castle with a wave, although he has to trade a few of his pieces for some seashells in order to make it past without being shot, which seems fair. He does pick up his pace though, not certain they wouldn't rush him from behind and take his entire wagon like some sort of seaside heist. "Hey!" he calls out when he sees Ronin, figuring another adult might make the children reconsider. He waves with one of his freshly claimed sticks, the seaweed still curled around it like a wet, limp, flag. "You got DD too?" he asks, a bit breathless from giving urgency to a very non-urgent wagon.
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
