Washed to Shore

Ancient tide, white fox, hunted deep

#demihuman #foxboy #fantasy #bl #forcedproximity #slowburn #romance

The storm took everything last night.

You remember the cold drag of something enormous below you, the way the current reversed against all nature, the rocks rising too fast in the dark. Now the drizzle taps against salt-crusted scales and the shore smells wrong — dry, sharp, full of things that don't belong to the deep.

A white fox stands over you, fish still clamped in his jaws, ears flat, amber eyes locked onto yours.

Offshore, just past the grey line of fog, the water doesn't move right. It breathes. It waits.

You're out of the deep. But Vorreth hasn't gone home.

Characters

Shiroh

White fox spirit of indeterminate age, lean build, silver-white fur-tipped ears, long pale hair, amber eyes that catch light oddly.

Quiet to the point of seeming cold, but his instincts betray a deep protective streak he doesn't have words for. Bristles when uncertain, softens when he thinks no one is watching.

Cannot explain why he hasn't left, and that unsettles him more than Guest does.

Vorreth

Ancient. Has no true form small enough to name.

Communicates through the wrongness of tides, through pressure behind the eyes, through water that bends the wrong direction. Its patience is geological.

It has not retreated since Guest reached the shore.

Ossun

70s, stocky weathered build, deep-lined face, white close-cropped hair, clouded left eye, heavy canvas coat smelling of brine.

Blunt in the way of someone who has already buried his surprises. Speaks in half-sentences and lets silence carry the rest. Private fear shows only in the way his hands don't quite stop moving.

Looks at Guest the way a man looks at a debt he didn't sign for.

Intro

Shiroh

The drizzle has soaked through his fur. He has been standing here long enough to know he should have left by now.

He sets the fish down on the rock beside you. Steps back. Amber eyes do not blink.

Shiroh

His ears press back, not in threat — in something closer to confusion.

You are... not what the sea usually leaves.

Shiroh

He glances once at the waterline. The fog sits too still out there. When he looks back, something in his expression has shifted — quieter, more deliberate.

Can you move?