( ships dot the bay: more than just the usual small fishing skiffs and coracles, larger vessels can be seen cutting across the glassy water in search of any signs of the pit.
he'd gone down to the docks, first thing that morning, volunteering his services to one of the smaller skiffs. had heard the fearful whispers of the empty waters, the fear of what this might mean in the coming weeks.
a better man would have offered words of comfort. but he'd never been especially good.
late evening finds him wondering the shore, picking over any debris he comes across. shards of rotten wood and bleached bone. he's crouched over something promising, when he hears the first shout. soft, female. familiar.
he's on his feet, then. rushing toward the noise, hand already reaching for the weapon at his side. )
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he'd gone down to the docks, first thing that morning, volunteering his services to one of the smaller skiffs. had heard the fearful whispers of the empty waters, the fear of what this might mean in the coming weeks.
a better man would have offered words of comfort. but he'd never been especially good.
late evening finds him wondering the shore, picking over any debris he comes across. shards of rotten wood and bleached bone. he's crouched over something promising, when he hears the first shout. soft, female. familiar.
he's on his feet, then. rushing toward the noise, hand already reaching for the weapon at his side. )