[Swamp Thing]

It had been some time since he had approached the land that he had learned was called Tortuga. He knew little about the pack, just knew that they were called Tortuga, and they had a good amount of water by their border. Last time he had been there, someone had almost drowned. Soon after, he had gotten the urge to travel. Swamp Thing doubted that anyone missed him, or even really knew of him. But it had been a while, and there felt like a little place in his heart was made for this place. So he returned, practically slithering through the water, eyes barely poking out. His eye sight wasn’t the greatest, he knew, but he was well enough to make it around any obstacles that got in his way. It seemed that a lot had changed since the last time he had been here. Maybe there had been some kind of disaster. Oh, he hoped that the little pack he cared for was okay.

   Usually he had stayed in the land that was more swampy, but he was feeling an urge to go towards more open waters. There would be a good amount of fish there, he knew, and the beach was probably easier to lay down on than anything in the cramped areas of the murky areas. Surely him fishing here would not count as stealing prey. Swamp Thing went into slightly deeper waters, going for bigger fish. Although he doubted that most alligators would go out so far, let alone be on a beach like this, he considered that his hellion blood made him different. His nature wasn’t set in stone like a normal creatures. It made him special, able to do stuff others couldn’t. Under the water, he quickly snapped up any fish he could get a hold of, too hungry from his travels to drag it onto land to try and look civilized.

   From looking at the land under the water, he could see what might be considered of value. Maybe a human boat had crashed somewhere, leaving pretty things behind. Though, the more he looked at it, scooting things about, it was mainly wood and rocks, old and rotten. He put his nose up, slightly grossed out. There was always something weird about touching wood that had been soaked for too long that bothered him. The hellagator swamp up closer to the beach, back and head breaching the water. He’d stare at the beach, hoping that maybe someone would be there, or arrive soon. Swamp Thing would stop in the shallows, sitting down on his hunches, looking almost canine like with his posture. If someone were to show up, he’d give the best smile he could. “’Ello, I’m Swamp Thing, how are y’all doing?”


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swamp thing is gonna be hanging out on the border for a few ic days so he can meet and greet and chill with tortugans