[The sea licked up the shoreline. Rolling softly across the edge, caressing it with fingers foamed in white as it trailed back out again. The tide was starting to drain; with the moon overhead as its signal and the waves slowly rocked away. Leaving behind trails to where the water had been, soaking the sand black in the wee-hours of morning.]
[Bottles rolled across the edge, making the sand shift where it still stayed dry. Greed often found himself at the shoreline. After a few deals down at the docks; trading intel and whatever-else came off the murky-bows of the ships lined there. Some knew his name, knew his face. Knew that if they were wise, the business was good. Others were naive to the fact and the charm was easy to put on. With a flip of the hand and a devil's smile: "Do we have a deal?".]
[But business was over, which left the Sin in question to walk out the remaining hours. He had already his fill, though even that was an impossibility. The fur-lining of his long-leather coat smelled of it - of women, of men. Of smoke and liquor and everything else that was damned by law and creed.]
[Not that he followed those rules, anyway.]
[Greed picked at the threads of his jacket. The sleeves had been ripped off, a novice effort that left strands behind. He turned his head, dipped himself low as he followed the tide-line with each roll of his ankle. Like this, he looked the part of a shadow. A ghoulish sort of creature; with a Cheshire's grin to rival the moon hanging above as he pocketed his hands and fingered the gold and coin that bounced back.]
[He saw it first; the outline of something - someone - pooled out in the dark. A hand stretched to the beckoning land and the rest of the body left for the tide to rock it. He made a noise in his throat, pulling his lip back just so.] What a waste. [The Sin came close, shuffling through the bleach-white sand as he rounded the body.]
[With his knees splayed out, the Sin crouched down and stretched out his hand. His nails touched gnarled hair, winding it around as sea-salt dripped across his palm.]
➥ CORVO
[The sea licked up the shoreline. Rolling softly across the edge, caressing it with fingers foamed in white as it trailed back out again. The tide was starting to drain; with the moon overhead as its signal and the waves slowly rocked away. Leaving behind trails to where the water had been, soaking the sand black in the wee-hours of morning.]
[Bottles rolled across the edge, making the sand shift where it still stayed dry. Greed often found himself at the shoreline. After a few deals down at the docks; trading intel and whatever-else came off the murky-bows of the ships lined there. Some knew his name, knew his face. Knew that if they were wise, the business was good. Others were naive to the fact and the charm was easy to put on. With a flip of the hand and a devil's smile: "Do we have a deal?".]
[But business was over, which left the Sin in question to walk out the remaining hours. He had already his fill, though even that was an impossibility. The fur-lining of his long-leather coat smelled of it - of women, of men. Of smoke and liquor and everything else that was damned by law and creed.]
[Not that he followed those rules, anyway.]
[Greed picked at the threads of his jacket. The sleeves had been ripped off, a novice effort that left strands behind. He turned his head, dipped himself low as he followed the tide-line with each roll of his ankle. Like this, he looked the part of a shadow. A ghoulish sort of creature; with a Cheshire's grin to rival the moon hanging above as he pocketed his hands and fingered the gold and coin that bounced back.]
[He saw it first; the outline of something - someone - pooled out in the dark. A hand stretched to the beckoning land and the rest of the body left for the tide to rock it. He made a noise in his throat, pulling his lip back just so.] What a waste. [The Sin came close, shuffling through the bleach-white sand as he rounded the body.]
[With his knees splayed out, the Sin crouched down and stretched out his hand. His nails touched gnarled hair, winding it around as sea-salt dripped across his palm.]