[ Ortus has seen stranger things in his life than a woman devouring metal on the beach. Not many, as some might reckon it, or a rather large amount, as he does. But he is not left entirely petrified by it, which is the critical thing.
He cannot see her eyes well from the angle he approaches her at, squinting against the glare off the ocean even through his tinted glasses. (Not nearly as dramatic as Gideon's, but they serve him well in place of his veils, which flutter too much in surface winds.) He hopes very much that they are sane. Perhaps this is a custom of her people. ]
Hello?
[ He calls, softly, unassuming in plain every day skull paint and black garb. ]
Are you... [ Already, he half-regrets coming this far; he once knew how to mind his own affairs. ] ...hungry?
1. shore
He cannot see her eyes well from the angle he approaches her at, squinting against the glare off the ocean even through his tinted glasses. (Not nearly as dramatic as Gideon's, but they serve him well in place of his veils, which flutter too much in surface winds.) He hopes very much that they are sane. Perhaps this is a custom of her people. ]
Hello?
[ He calls, softly, unassuming in plain every day skull paint and black garb. ]
Are you... [ Already, he half-regrets coming this far; he once knew how to mind his own affairs. ] ...hungry?