#poissonpurity

Idate, deciding to shirk what little notions of self-preservation he had once again, wandered along a winding path, the waters red and disturbing, the orca humming as he casually wandered the Sea of Death. He had a light scratch along the back of his ear, welting where a claw grazed. Given that injury, it was safe to say something had already fell victim to the malicious wanderer. "My, this place certainly different," he muttered around a cigarette, the trail of ash as evident in the scarlet waters as it would be anywhere else. "...Wish it didn't make these taste slightly coppery, but a smoke's a smoke."