[ P ] doesn't mean a thing

Ransom Cyprus

The salt tinged breeze of the Glass Beach tickled his nose and the grainy texture of the shoreline itself irritated his toes, but he didn't quite care. The sun was low in the sky but it's beams still provided enough light so he could see where he was stepping. If one glanced up in the sky, they might have noticed the brilliant white stars beginning to shine through daylights veil. He's been working far too much, truthfully, and he couldn't think of a better place than here to relax. He wasn't in the mood to listen to drunken laughter nor did he want to find a random fuck for the night. On this rare occasion he wanted the company of another but the only man he could think of was none other than Carion. He had made an impression on him inexplicably and he didn't quite know what to do about that. His nose wrinkled in mild disgust at himself. Just look at him, walking through the pools of water meant for self reflection thinking about another wolf.

He was a loner: he'd always been one and always would be. A heavy sigh slipped from his lips regardless of this fact because it didn't make him stop feeling the way that he did. The brute ambled until he found a secluded enough pool to throw himself down at the waters edge with one front limb dangling in the water. Eyes of electric purple would flutter shut whilst he willed himself to relax here, to think of anything else but the crimson man. They were only fuck buddies, nothing more.

-

"You prey on people like a spider waiting for a fly."

table by rae - image by bunny

The uneventful routine of life was wearing him down. Even the talk of war on everyone's tongues did nothing to help with that. In fact, it only made everything worse - the war was nothing more than a background noise to him. He had no reason to care, no interest in either side. No interest in... anything, really. This existential unease was like a chronic illness, not always apparent but never gone for good. So he could only do what any other perpetually dissatisfied man would do.

Get drunk.

Strolling along the beach with a large bunch of fermented berries, stopping now and then to take a bite, existence was almost bearable. He recalled, vaguely, getting drunk on a different, nicer beach, someplace else entirely. He had met and fucked a dark-furred male then, and never saw him again after... or was there one time? Nicharion wasn't sure. Life seemed simpler back then, though in all honesty nothing has really changed. Maybe only he did, somehow. No, that's a wishful lie. He could remember feeling this way years ago, too.

When he inadvertently approached a dark-furred wolf, he was almost concerned. Seeing things you're only thinking about has to be some kind of madness; but no, it was real, and after a moment he registered enough details to recognize the male. "Raaaan-som." What a conundrum, company wasn't on tonight's agenda... but who is he to deny the gifts of coincidence? Without asking for permission, he unceremoniously plopped himself down beside the other wolf, dropping his berries halfway between them in a silent offering. "I suppose we don't get to languish in weary solitude." The red brute chuckled mirthlessly, then frowned right after. "Hell if I know how ya doing it sober." As if it to emphasize his point, he immediately went for a bite of the berries.

manip + code: clae