Driftwood washed up on the shores of the sea's plain constantly, and over the past few days the waif had taken up the collection of particularly sturdy pieces. The less waterlogged the better, and as he surveyed his pile of sunbleached wood the citrus dappled male decided he had gotten enough of it. The sun was out in full force today, which was a bit irksome, but he would be in the water for most of this work so he wasn't quite so worried about overheating. Before he got to work, he needed to scout the waterline. Figure out what the tides were sitting at, when they might be retreating or moving up the beach, and what spots the shoals were clustered around right now. Over the months of his captivity within the Armada, he had gotten a good grasp of the behaviours of the fish that inhabited these waters. Similarly, he'd gotten pretty good at harvesting mussels and clams from the rockier portions of the shores. Sea otters lived further out in the kelp forests, and they had proven to be useful for determining what kind of day the ocean was having. They clustered within the kelp when a storm was rolling in, and frolicked in the deeper waters when the weather was calm. One of these days he was going to catch one, its skin would be perfect lining for a bed, or a garment of some sort.

Nearly up to his chest in the shallows, he watched the waves. The flickering of silvery bodies under the surface, myriad little fish schooling in the shallows towards the side of the territory nearest the great mouth of the delta, told him he might have luck if he got to work soon. They would be moving away from the shallows when the tide came in. As they moved towards the safety of the reef for nightfall, they could slip into the trap he was going to be putting together while the tide was far up the beach. It was a good thing he was such a good swimmer, and that he'd built up some of that muscle he'd lost after his time in captivity on that cursed ship.

Dainty paws carried him at a sauntering trot back up the beach towards his pile of driftwood, and he sought out his cache of kelp ropes. Bull kelp was constantly washing up on the shore, and when woven together it made a sturdy chord. It handled submersion well, and the gas filled bulbs at the end served as a built in marker of where he'd laid his nets and traps underwater. It was a matter of turning over a few stones until he found the buried treasure trove of rope and netting. Part of him was cautious to be unveiling it in the middle of the day, where he was at risk of having it pilfered by a wolf of the Armada with enough rank to lay him out and force him to stand by and witness the theft of all that hard work. However, he couldn't risk losing his opportunity to catch some of the summer bounty.

"Speech!"

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Basilisk was padding along the beach, his paws touching the tide every time it lapped across the sand. He enjoyed the cool water on his paws, and wondered if he might find something interesting between the cypress trees. Perhaps some crabs that he could play with. At least until he got hungry…

His eyes caught sight of a wolf he had scented but never really seen before on the beach. He was doing something weird and interesting near some driftwood. Pulling something out… was it food? Basilisk wiggled his nose and then turned his path, trotting towards the Armada wolf. He didn’t know the man, but he was Armada, that made him family, right? He had like, a hundred Aunties and Uncles about the place. “Whatcha doing?” he asked, sidling up beside the other wolf, and raising his little nose in the air, sniffing extensively at the funny salty stuff.

WC: 152
"Speech"

A small voice piped up over his shoulder, and the waif flinched instinctively. Wide seafoam eyes latched onto the pudgy form of a young child, though it was hard to call that a child. Though the softness and milky scent spoke of youth, the toothy youngster was very nearly the same size as him. Smoothing his hackles self consciously, the dainty male cleared his throat softly. "I was.. going to set up a trap for fish." he began cautiously, sea foam eyes scanning the youngster's features for a few moments to gauge his reaction to the information. It couldn't hurt to teach the little one some of his tricks, right? It might also be nice to have some help fishing, for a change.

"Would you... like to help?" he asked with a gentle tip of his head to one side, glancing at the ropes that had been dropped at his paws with his surprise. "You can take some of the catch, when it's done." he added with a soft smile, and gave his thin banner a soft wag against his hocks. It would be easy enough to do on his own, but perhaps passing on some of his knowledge would be nice. It wasn't like he would ever have children of his own, and maybe he was being granted the chance to pass on some of his family's techniques to a new generation in this moment.. The work would go by quicker, and while waiting for the tides to shift the boy could always wander off to pay if he so chose.

"Speech!"

TABLE & CODE © SKELLE 2021

“A trap?” Basilisk asked, instantly interested, and nosey to match. He stuck his nose into the bull kelp and sniffed, wondering for a fleeting moment if it was edible. The boy was always hungry. He decided not to give it a nibble, both so he didn’t get into trouble, and because it sounded like fish was on the table.

“Sure!” he said at Nao’s question, already intended to make off with some fish if the situation allowed… When Nao added fish to the deal, he was already sold. “What do you want me to do?” he asked, having no idea how any of this was going to work.

"Speech"