OOC: Set in Crow's Eye, on the beach across from the two little islands in the bottom left.
His work is done for the day, and so the massive beast makes his way down to the beach, intending to relax for a short while in solitude before going home. Assuming, that is, that no one interrupts him - something he's not foolish enough to hope for. Any one of his offspring (of which he has arguably
far too many) or students could wander over at any moment, and he half expects them to do so.
The children seem to have a sixth sense that tells them when he's trying to find a moment of peace, paired with some horrific urge to disturb him. Not that he can blame them for their petty vengeance, given the hellish training he puts all of them through. At least the majority of those under his tutelage aren't headache-inducing... his offspring not included. He'd strangle half of them, were he less patient.
He's honestly surprised his wives haven't lost it and done exactly that, given the amount of children they've had over the years. They're as regal and dignified as the day the former Khagan arranged his marriages to them, though, and uphold their duties without issue. He's rather fond of them, though that seems only natural after so many years together - even if his attachment is not exactly
romantic.
Close friends, trusted allies; he could use a variety of words for his wives, but none of them would be entirely adequate. He owes them a great deal for their care over the years and for their roles as his confidantes. It had surprised him, somewhat, when they'd chosen to remain married to him and continue bearing his cubs. The goal of rebuilding his lineage has long been achieved, after all - they could leave.
Yet, they choose to stay. Their pregnancies make him uneasy, as always, but his unease only gets worse each year. They always get through it fine, but it doesn't quell the disquiet in his icy heart. Shaking his anxiety away, he presses his dark toes into the sand and looks out at the pair of islands in the distance, ignoring the discomfort of the lingering light as the sun finally begins to fall from its place in the sky.
His skin has always been sensitive to sunlight, but it seems to worsen as he grows older. In his prideful, arrogant youth, he spent days on the field of battle with the sun as only a minor inconvenience, but now? Traveling from his estate to work each morning is a nightmare, mitigated only by his pre-dawn departure from his home. Returning after work, depending on the time, is even worse.
Closing his eyes, the Taishi lets the cold breeze soothe his burning skin as it carries sound and scent to him. The waves are easy to dismiss, and a consistent sound is easily shuffled into the background by his brain - inconsistent sounds are taking priority in his attention. Even at rest, he never ceases to be alert. He knows entirely too well what can happen to those who allow their guards to slip - it takes very little to kill.
Less still, if your target is unwary.
