pretty like blood on sand

Reveling in the light and the blood and the bizarre turn of events that Ragnarök presented him with, the rot prince moves south. Covering the land with intent, and drinking it in. The black sands harboring the fading heat of the red sun, licking at his paws as Björn⁢ moves across them. A narrow strip of beach, but it did the job. Something about it is striking, would be breathtaking, under a different sun. Under a different moon. Focus, focus-- he's exploring. He's learning the land, forcing it to divulge its secrets.

Being this close to the water... it feels dangerous. Björn⁢ leans into it. Crosses the dunes, watches the black sand devour all life around it. Standing atop them for a moment. A breath. A heartbeat. The rise in the ground beneath his feet lifting him up, allowing the rot price the best view he'd get today. Gaze darting down the coastline, taking in every shape, every curve. Learning them, or at least, taking them in.

But there's more than that, to take in. A fox's chirp, swallowed somewhat by the sounds of the sea. Beyond that... a girl. Björn⁢ doesn't stop himself, doesn't pause, as he approaches. Light on his feet, despite the sand that grabs at his paws. As he draws near, he speaks. "The stories say the sea will eat the land, during Ragnarök. This place, it feels like front row seats." Steadily, the boy watches for a reaction. Tone macabre, but inviting all along. Gaze careful on her face, though he takes on the tone of the storyteller.

"speech"