NOW THERE'S BLOOD IN THE WATER --- joiner

[SÉAMUS]

☠ Word of mouth, there’s a snake in the garden —

Within an hour, Seamus decided he hated the desert.  He had lost his footing more than once in shifting sands, perhaps even injured one of his taloned paws - just twisted it wrong, probably - and it felt as if the sun was trying to suck the life out of him.  Wouldn't be the first to try or fail.  The unusual creature, an enfield no less, fluffed out his scarlet fur, grumble threatening to rumble out of his parched maw.  It had taken enough time and effort to follow the trail, then to actually journey across the harsh landscape... Now I'm really angry.

Yet the faerie had a plan, a scheme, a part to play, a job to do, a goal to achieve.  He did not give up easily.  His twin thought him foolishly stubborn, he liked to say determined.  It was not like the other was not equally stubborn once he set his mind to something.  He was lucky, he supposed, his twin even let him go without much of a fight.  An explanation, that was all.  I'll hear no end of it later, I'm sure.

He had taken great measure to erase a single sign of the Typhoon him.  Not a trace of the ocean scent.  Nothing.  He was just another ally-less traveler.  Loner.  He had always thought the word fit him better, although pirate truly did do him more justice.  He would always be a pirate, no matter where he went, but he was also a prince and a spy.  They better have actual shelter here.

Seamus was nearly worn out, driven only by his fierce determination and a mind to avoid dropping unconscious in direct sunlight.  That would not end well, even if someone did manage to find him.  The vulpine furrowed his brow, scanning the horizon for any sign of life.  Who the hell picks the desert as a home anyway?
[div style="text-align: right; text-transform: uppercase; text-shadow: 0px 0px 2px #009E60; font-size: 15px;"]— SÉAMUS Ó FAOLÁN ☠

#psychosocial.