who we are and all that we're trying to be
His lack of intimidating poise or aura didn’t seem to matter – his presence alone was a matter of apprehension. The beast presumed it’d scarcely alter or change thing if he shifted back to human form, for even then he was a towering monolith. He remained sitting, watching, waiting, tilting his head as the youth instantly morphed into a shark. Were they capable of more than one aquatic form? Curiosity coiled and convoluted along his machinating mind, and then his shoulders shrugged; Merfolk were an entirely new prospect and unknown for him altogether. For all he knew, they could change into anything tied to the sea.
Hellhound, he announced, though big, big dog seemed to cover the description of his entity enough. Confirmation of her own existence complied, and then there was naught at all. Not to be diminished in his inquiry and need for answers, sometimes a scholar over a soldier, and not even remotely bothered by her form, he sniffed at the canals again. What are these? I have seen others trying to reinforce them. He hadn’t gauged their purpose or why they’d chosen their actions – the Moonlit Tides had rested firmly beside the sea, and hadn’t incorporated the wiles of the currents or waves into their residence – permitting the beckoning siren to remain close at hand, but not fully occupying their space. Neither had the Edge; he’d listened to the tides crashing into its cliff boundaries, curling in the mist and midst.
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
