the fight you seek, the pain you need

Now this, this was the kind of shit that the Saxe yearling could get behind. He climbed the stairs below decks without an ounce of hesitation, his muscles quivering with excitement. That was the only betrayal of his excitement, as his expression was still painfully stoic and empty. Roving lavender gaze drank everything in with the utmost intrigue, all the while his nose was catching the stray scents of recent lupine visitors. This was a popular place. It wasn't difficult to figure out why- sheltered, relatively secure, and already organized into rooms and floors for occupation. Perhaps he could find a way to utilize this space in the meantime. It would be an excellent home base while he organized himself, determined what he was working with in the surrounding continent.

Ivory tipped tail swept idly across his hocks as the goliath peered through an open doorway into the room to his left, pale eyes sweeping over the well worn floorboards and dust covered surfaces. No long term inhabitants for some time, it seemed. He continued down the narrow hallway, listening to the sounds of the ancient vessel creaking and groaning as it continually settled and resettled in its ongoing struggle against the elements, its visitors, and the passage of time itself. His claws clicked quietly, a hollow sound of keratin against the old wood under his paws.

He could smell the faint aroma of some manner of food nearby, and his stomach grumbled as it took note. So he picked up his pace, his ambling gait turning to a proper stride. Crown aloft, he peered inside each room that he passed. Places like this typically had a kitchen or galley, and perhaps someone had left behind food for him to steal before they returned for it. Unattended eats were fair game. The hallway seemed to go on for miles, each doorway revealing storage or bunks each time he looked. Finally, a long stretch of rusted steel wall promised a much larger room behind it. And sure, enough a rather expansive galley greeted him through the doorway.

Shelves of preserves, thoroughly picked over. Dust covered countertops. Yet, the scent of cured meats were strong. They were somewhere, and he was going to take them.