The boy was at home alongside the sea just as he was amidst the mountains, and wasn’t perturbed or bothered by the continued mingling of Gods by the rampant tides, by the fervent ocean. Thus far, the streamlined events hadn’t been chaotic, polished in bedlam, or tied together by the strings of mayhem. While this disappointed Orsino, Erebos felt a bit more content, a bit more gallant, a bit more refined, when not thrown, thrust, or tossed into the framework of destruction and acrimony (he’d go either way – he knew the spinning factors of his own core, but for once the notion of peace seemed vivid, tangible, and real). So he followed, courted and enticed by the temptations of another time, another time, another moment where deities lingered (without death, without havoc, without turmoil), launching off of several waves and trying to ignore the ridiculous stench pouring off of his hooves from contact with the surface – he had asked for a trick from that strange ram fellow, but the swamp nature and musk had him reeling more often than not.
 
Instead of contorting and coiling himself along the brine again, he floated off its ramparts and down along the fortifications of sand, where Orsino met him across the dunes and they traced, traveled, and traversed the large gathering again. He caught the outline of Kisamoa again, and then the startling display of the Moon Goddess (all lunar, all eclipsed, all dazzling finesse that could only come from the stars, the galaxies, the strange, enigmatic twist and turns of the unknown). Only the barest apprehension curled against his barrel, clicked along his chest as they grew closer, because he remembered her involvements with the murders all those seasons ago, when they’d just been lads, sweeping across the lands, on the hunt for clues to mysteries they couldn’t fathom, comprehend, or understand. What was she doing here? Did she intend to drive them into derision, into scorn? Or had she truly changed her ways, altered her sense of being, and bestowed a sense of neutrality? He couldn’t guess the ways of the heavens, but he found himself glancing around the throng, attempting to distinguish friends from foes, enemies from comrades, acquaintances for strangers, in case something else was due to take wing.
 
The prince saw several he knew, but while they inquired and played chase with the Gods, the lad took a more casual stroll, slinking along until he came upon the beast he’d known all his life (but perhaps not enough, and certainly not lately), and casually stepped beside Rikyn and his companion. Erebos pretended as if naught was amiss, as if nothing had occurred that would have crushed their connection, their spirits, their kindship, and it was merely natural to find himself near the bay cretin – eternally intertwined in Cheshire grins and fondness. He didn’t say a word, and offered the merest arch of his brow, before turning his head towards the occasion, intending to listen to unfolding, unraveling instances.

[Just standing beside Rikyn. ;D]

Erebos

i have nothing, but then the have is not as good as the want