What's there to do when you sorta, kinda, actually left behind the only family you had? Being young and thinking you were always right never helped, Cirice had always been so headstrong. The most difficult of Valena's daughter's, maybe if her father had stuck around longer to keep the peace like he had when they were small it wouldn't have been a problem. Hate to say hello 'cause I know that it means goodbye, hate to ask but what's it like to leave me behind? She was bitter, rightfully so.

And the gal had got it in her mind that family could be just as easily removed as any other person her life, they fought a lot. It was a constant battle about something, and it left their family strained and stressed. God, she'd never admit to being the person in the wrong. Her mother had to be the toxic one, she had to.

It'd crush her to know that she wasn't helping her situation any. Got into a bit of a state last night, deleted every contact in my life, built a fire in my mind.

No one told her that life on your own is a lot harder than she thought it'd be, finding food was like putting all your energy into finding the rabbit or squirrel for it to get away, or in the off chance you actual catch the fucking thing; then all you energy is put toward finding the next thing to eat. It was a shitty cycle, one she was trapped in at the moment.

And it made it especially difficult when Cirice had the good ol habit of waking up in the afternoon hours, her mother had always said the best game was to be found in the early morning hours, but now it was the golden hour. The sun's golden rays bursting behind red hued mountains in the far off distance. The only food she had been able to find was along the shoreline, mucky paws made their way across wet sand. The water lapping against the shore and washing up kelp and old shells. The young female's muzzle pressed against the ground, nose and maw covered in sand as she dug up some mussels. "Ha! Score!!!!" A couple of big ones and a couple of small ones, but hey, you can't be too picky.

Inspecting the shell over she'd go in to bite if, cracking it with ease, but also cutting the absolute mess out of her gums. "Ow OW OW FUCK FUCK OW! OW... What the GARBAGE, man??!!" She growled backing away with a whimper, shaking her face and angrily slapping the broken shell pieces away. "Stings stings stings, ow, stings, OW OW OW." Perhaps trying to water her mouth out with ocean water was a bad idea. Gross, she'd sit back beside her haul of shellfish, glowering down at them.

When it came to the ocean, there were certain sounds that one (in most cases) was often typical of hearing. The repetitive beat of waves crashing against each other was to be expected. The melody of seabirds coasting the skies was also another. Even the wind seemed to have a voice, speaking softly in a whisper. They were all natural earth songs. Peaceful.

Yelling, however, was not one of them.

Pulling his gaze away from the white foamed waves he'd been lazily watching, Vasilis looked over his shoulder curiously, ears swivelling. He was resting in a cool bed of sand a fair distance away from the water, burying his paws beneath the infinite miniscule grains, enjoying the familiar, peculiar sensation.

(He remembered playing on a similar beach as a child, rolling around and digging in the sand, while his somber mother quietly looked on.)

He listened to the distant racket for a minute, mulling over something, before he rolled his shoulders in a shrug. Oh, what the hell. He might as well go check it out. It wasn't like he had anything better to do anyway (except maybe nap). Dragging himself to his feet with a grunt, the large nomad stretched, shaking sand out of his pelt, before he began his steady trek towards the yelling, stepping idly over shells and rocks along the way.

When he finally located the source of the aggravated noises, he paused a few feet away, watching the wolfdog quietly, before his gaze drifted towards the scattered shellfish near her feet. Ah, so that was it. He huffed in amusement, tilting his head to the side.

"Yo," he greeted, grinning lazily, "you doin' okay there, buddy?"

Sometimes adulthood meant crying  on a beach next to your shellfish dinner, and honestly that was okay. As long as there was no one to look at her. Yo, you doin' okay there, buddy? A big mistake, as she turned with slow horror. There was snot dripping from her nose that she was trying to sniffle back up, and tears that welled up pretty badly in her already watery eyes.

It's one of those moments where she absolutely positively knew within her mind, that her mother would have handled this situation perfectly. That she wouldn't have cut her gums if she was around, and it was dishearting. Cirice would never admit to it, she was her own girl. She didn't need no fucking family and none of their fucking rules. Nah, she was a free bird, a free agent.

And yet, there was that part of her that missed them all the same.

She'd sniffle at the male for moments on end, looking from that grin of his down to her shellfish and back again. "I'm an adult, and I cut my mouth on shellfish, but... I'M NOT GONNA CRY ABOUT IT, CAUSE I'M AN ADULT." Her voice wavering heavily with held back sobs as she yell the last bit at him. Any statement that began with "I'm an anything" typically meant that you weren't what you said you were, her mom told her that.

Bi-colored eyes would look to the crashing white caps rushing to shore and her body visibly slumped. "It's been- It's been a rough day." She muttered through a sniffle, dragging a paw up to wipe at her watery eyes. If he gave her a moment to collect her a tad better she'd look back to him glowering slightly. "Who are you? What do you want? My dinner?? Take it. I don't wanna eat it now." A large paw swatted the remainder of the shells toward him.