I've been here in your world! -- icarian. coalition of the condemned.

Everett was a lot of thing, he knew this as fact. They were too loud, talked too much, too excitable, too much too much too much. It never really hurt their feelings being shooed away or being shut down, but it certainly made him feel lonely. But, said loneliness found them a small little strip of beach perfect to catch fish on. The snow in small heaps across the sand, and the water so bright the Icarian's smile seemed to glitter.

They found a place to fish, at least to relax for now, he reasoned.

Unpacking his gear, the now calm hyperactive hybrid began setting up their camp. A nest of pillows and blankets on top of a clear area, a small charcoal grill he made themself with the help of a smith on his travels (it certainly didn't look the prettiest but it did its job damn well), a few seasoning he traded for, and a few tools. The lack of fishing pole was glaring, but at the moment, Everett longed to dive bomb into the glittering ocean, feel the cold rush around him as he expertly catches a fish. They could bring a small pole next time, he reasoned.

Fluffing his wings, the feathers glossy and yet still so downy, the male launched himself into the air as his eyes sharpened, carefully keeping their shadow away from any schools of fish they could spot. Their usually cluttered mind clear except for this one task, his claws outstretched to sink in and grab, his mouth watering at the thought of later when he cooks their priz-

Like an arrow, the hybrid shot into the water, barely a splash at the entry. The seconds passed by until they emerged with a huge sawara (mackerel, they corrected in their head) flopping in his claws, but their wings never faltered as he carried the fish to their camp. A determined look on their usually carefree visage. Touching down, Everett quickly placed the fish in too small bucket and grabbed another bucket to fill with salt water to clean the fish with on the side.

Sighing, they grabbed another bucket and began flitting around for snow. Bucketful after bucketful, the Icarian made a sorta box to put the fish in until it froze so he could kill it without blood or struggling ("this is the best way to kill fish, lad, it makes them taste better since they don't overwork their muscles and humane, s-", he shook the memory away). Their paws aching from the cold snow and ice, they picked the calm fish back up and placed it in the makeshift ice box (maybe he should ask a local smith if they could craft one that he could place fish in).

In the meantime, the hybrid raised his tail as he readied his workspace ahead of time. Their grill set up with a few choice pieces of charcoal, some rough salt, a bit of sake (rice wine, he could hear their old mentor correct in his head), his filet knife, a board, and the dread of descaling the mackerel.

For now, though, the fish could wait as he got everything set up, they reasoned.

[align=center]"speech" .. 'thoughts' .. attack

once more, lycaon was out exploring the isles he donned his home; he often was, admittedly avoiding his duties, but in truth he hated them. the job had been selected for him by his late mother, and was not something that sang to his soul, as his late father used to speak of his own job.

this time, he was meandering across the beaches, coated in snow and ice, when splashes caught his attention. his path diverted without a thought to danger; his mind never did jump to that, even in the state the coalition was in currently.

he didn't know this animal, but lyc was starting to realise he didn't know anyone, really, and with a newfound determination to change that, the pale lion wandered over to his side. he was large, and clumsy, and didn't watch where he plopped his bottom when he sat, so hopefully he wasn't sat on anything important.

"what'cha doing?" he questioned, eyeing Everett's actions with keen interest.