[Batzorig]

    He's not necessarily nocturnal. Batzorig finds himself awake as easily under the sun as the moon, but the problem is, he often and unintentionally finds himself awake.
    The waves lap at his forepaws, sand stuck in the sweat and fur on his rump. He is so obviously, dreadfully tired, with the slump in his posture, dead weight of his tail, eyes fixed firmly on the moon that only serves to highlight how wild his white mane has become with the wind, and salt, and sadness. One may think this a brilliant time for contemplation, an intellectual on the verge of some sort of invention as he stares out on the water, sleepless with his genius-- but Batzorig doesn't think much of anything, besides remembering to breathe.
    The lion is upwind, but he still hears her approach, however lightly. Sometimes the ocean roars, but other times, it is only a whisper on the sand. Batzorig does not tense, knowing he is about to have company, but only because he is already locked and tremoring.
    The sea brushes his paws, gentle and fleeting, like a reassurance before the dog comes to join him.

[Dixie]

    She wasn’t that much into the night, either. Having been promoted and trying to work out the ‘new’ banking system with the new alphas, there was a lot of work to do. She was lucky that right now the pack lacked in children, giving her time to focus on her new work and brewing. Even if it was a lesser job for her, she wanted to dedicate time to it. That day Dixie found her free time after the sun had fallen and the moon had risen. Energy still coursed through her veins, not yet letting her lay down to sleep. She needed to walk, or sit somewhere to let herself relax. If she went to bed now she would be tossing and turning, taking longer to doze off.

    The dog found herself on the beach. After Tortuga had left the marshlands, they always had a beach, and she had grown accustomed to it. It was apart of their culture in a way. The ocean was apart of them, now. And she found herself taking comfort in it. So many times she had spent on beaches, thinking. Some were good moments, and some had been deadly, but yet she found herself alive and her paws sinking into the sand as she walked. Through the darkness she couldn’t tell who it was in the distance - a good amount of new people had found them after their move, and this must be one of them. She knew most canines in the pack, and this creature was larger, in many senses.

    As she neared, the salty scent of Tortuga blew towards her. The lion, she figured out as she grew closer, was a member of Tortuga. It was still hard to not fully accept that almost the entire pack was separate from mainland. If someone had broken in, they would know it. The lion seemed to be staring into the water, and there is a fear of what she had contemplated before. Most likely she would have passed someone who she guessed was deep in thought, possibly wanting to be by themself, but there was the itching in her mind that she had to speak, just in case. “Hello.” Dixie called gently, padding up beside the large lion. She couldn’t make out his markings that well, but even without proper lighting she could tell that his mane was pure white, sticking out easily. “It’s a pretty night, don’t ya think?”

[Batzorig]

    "... It is," Batzorig replies after a long moment, with the scratch of sleep and salt in his voice. He's been out here over an hour, but hadn't even noticed the beauty of the moon on the waves. Not until she mentioned it. He sits in silence beside her, taking in the beat of the ocean and trying to match it with his own breath, with his frantic, frightened heart. "Thank you," he adds quietly. If she asks what for, he forces, "For sitting with me," but otherwise, remains quiet. He is a creature of quiet.
    He waits until the waves recede from his feet, like a friendly shove to talk to the girl. Jade eyes finally fall on the dog, and her colours are cheery, but there is still so much sadness within him. "Batzorig," he introduces, in a sort of confusing, panicky attempt to force out the words, "Gunner."
    The tide touches his toes in congratulations. "... Who are you?"

[Dixie]

    The lion was almost soft spoken, at least in her mind. The way he spoke almost said that he was on the quieter side. Maybe it was the lateness of the night, tiredness running through his body, but something in her said that this might just be how he was. Sometimes Dixie worried for quieter ones, worried that they had things they should be saying, admitting and weren’t. She held her tongue, not wanting to voice what concerns she had (maybe she was actually thinking about herself, projecting her feelings onto him). ”Thank you.” He said, looking towards the waves. She cocks her head to the side, and he answers softly. ”For sitting with me.” Dixie just gives a nod, in some kind of understanding. It sucked to be alone.

    "Batzorig," the lion called himself. ”Gunner.” She gave a nod of acknowledgement. She could have guessed that a lion would go for a more physical rank. Made perfect sense. [i]”...Who are you?” Boy, as time had gone on she sure had a lot more to say about herself in introductions, didn’t she? “Dixie.” She started, with her soft southern accent. Since joining Tortuga it had faded, but it could be heard in certain words, in certain emotions. “I’m Loan Shark, Keeper, and Brewer.” She turned towards him with a smile, as if trying to not let the three ranks be intimidating or impressive.

    “I’ve been in Tortuga a long time. It’s gotten me far, just time, and working hard.” She had wanted to be a healer when she arrived, but now look at her. But it wasn’t something should would change. Where she stood in life was good. “I take it you’re new.” It could be easily guessed that she at least meant newer than her (everyone was, though she wasn’t certain about the Quartermaster, and now Gerar). Dixie felt nice, sitting on the beach with the wind blowing on her. During the day she was stressing happily over her jobs and tasks, but it felt nice to sit back and relax. [/color][/color]

[Batzorig]

    Sea green eyes widen as the list goes on, but he nods to her explanation, easily placated. He made Gunner easily enough; maybe more time would garner more ranks? He's not sure he's ready for the responsibility. Maybe time will address that, as well.
    "I take it you're new?"
    Another nod; her assumptions confirmed, he isn't very talkative. "'A joined just before the move." He's picking up the Tortugan accent-- despite not hearing it much. Maybe it's intentional, trying to fit in. He could mention how poor of an impression that made, to find this empire in a period of great change, but the newness of it all was comforting, because he wasn't the only one unsure.
    He won't though.