baby’s first sand

Araneae squeals as Wylan sends up a spray of water in their direction, pulling an outraged face as it settles in cold little droplets across their face. “you bastard!” they hiss – a word they learned from Mother That Woman – “that was cold!” despite the insult, a delighted grin tugs across their lips as they give chase, thundering through the water in pursuit of the winged boy. what they lack in size they make up for in speed, and after a few minutes of eager pursuit, they dive forward through the water and attempt to sweep Wylan’s legs out from beneath him. regardless of whether or not they were successful, Araneae goes crashing into the sand with the momentum, and for a moment they simply lie there, laughing breathlessly. but then…

“arghhh!” they seethe, all but shaking with rage as they scowl down at their sand-mattered pelt. it’s practically everywhere, and where before it’d caught between their fur, now it’s plastered to their sides like thick, gloopy paste. the sensation is positively loathsome. “it’s even worse!” they complain, stomping furiously. they move to re-enter the water – but when they dart a glance down the beach, their predicament makes itself horribly clear. “uh, Feathers…how are we supposed to leave the beach without getting yucky?!”

"Speech"