the smell of sleep and disinfectant

Pyrrhic was enjoying the freedom that came with leaving the confines of Risen. Out here he had no daily tasks to concern himself with and only his brother and Tsarvix to look out for. It was nice not having to get up at odd hours to patrol and to only hunt when he was hungry. He was also enjoying the chance to make decisions entirely on his own. At home his father’s word was law and he had to ask permission to do what he wanted. In the wilds, though, he was the highest authority and he quite liked it that way.

He spied in the distance a pale, nearly blank form. Definitely mortal which he expected so far north. After a moment of consideration Pyrrhic began to pad towards the figure on the shore. He’d had so much success with his first mortal that he was eager to try again. Perhaps Abraxas would see fit to give him another one.

As he drew nearer the figure’s features became clearer and he was allowed several moments to assess the creature. Female, by his estimation, with a lean build and a height typical of mortals. Pyrrhic might have scrutinized further had not the woman surprised him by bending down and attempting to drink seawater. He’d learned as a small child accompanying his father to the beach that saltwater was best left to the fishes. That settled it then. If she didn’t know the basics then she was a mortal in need of intervention and who better to intervene than a young up and coming godling?

”It can make you sick, you know,” he called as he approached. He clarified, ”The saltwater. If you drink enough of it, it will turn you inside out.” His stance was relaxed and his expression open and friendly. As the saying went you caught more flies with honey than vinegar - and though he was new to it Pyrrhic was very much in the business of catching flies. ”How the fish don’t pickle themselves is beyond me, but...” he trailed off with a faint smile on his lips and a shrug of his shoulders.