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Deimos paced back and forth around the training pits. She was in a bit of a sour mood today, as another captain had refused to take her out on a viking. She wanted to become a reaver; and she wanted to become one as soon as possible. Her white eyes were narrowed in frustration as she looked at the empty training pits. Everyone had left for the peak heat of the day, she supposed maybe she should too. Her black coat did soak up every ray of sun...

The adolescent scowled and she slunk down the cliff face and alongside the waves while it was still at low tide. Maybe she would find something to take her mind off of her predicament.

Deimos' ears pricked up at the foreign-sounding affect. Her head whipped about quickly to face its source and her eyes found a black and orange male wading in the water.

"It is a good day to die!" She said, in standard Stormborn fashion.

"Seems I'm here the same reason you are," Deimos spoke less formally, wading into the water as she did. The black lioness was in shallower water than her companion to allow her to sprawl out, front legs propping her head up above the water and her back legs stretched out behind her. Her tail occasionally struck the water in time with the waves as she enjoyed the rhythm of the ocean.

Deimos hadn't paid much mind to non-adults in the pride– besides those she was related to and therefore made to babysit– because she was so fixated on the reavers and captains who were most often adults. She found that maybe she had been mistaken to do so. Her white eyes examined him closely and found his colors to be quite pleasing to her. Maybe it was out of vanity.

"I am Deimos. And you?"

Deimos watched him lazily, finding the water too comfortable to rouse herself out of. She watched the water cascade off of his coat in sheets and as the light glistening on his black coat making his markings dance and jump about on his pelt.

She looked thoughtful for a minute, squinting up at the sky.

"It is nice to meet you, too. ...To be honest, I'm not sure what's in my blood. I'm only a second-generation Stormborn myself, on my mother's side. Well, though my grandmother and great-grandmother are pride members too, only my mother's litter and my own have been born here." She pondered some more. She wasn't sure how long her father's family had been in the pride, though it was certainly longer. And before that, at least one of them was a demon from the Aikanaro'hini (she had met him, he too had found his way to the Myrsky Stynyt). There were at least two gods in her family, the demon's mother Decay and her great-great-grandfather Rogues. That didn't mean much to her, though. She hadn't known many of her ancestors, how could she be defined by them?

"Agnar, where does your blood come from? Is it the same that gave you your accent?" He spoke quite differently, but after a sentence or two it was quite easy to adjust to hearing. As she waited for his answer, she flexed her claws in the sand, watching the water trail between her toes.

Deimos wasn't sure what being the right hand of the Pirate King entailed, but it did sound important. She smiled pleasantly at him as though she understood quite well. She rolled onto her side in the water, not the least bit bothered by how near Agnar had gotten to her. Her ears flicked in annoyance and her expression became a slight scowl when he asked about her day.

"I can't find a captain to take me on a viking so I can become a Reaver." The lioness pouted and splashed her tail in the surf.

"They laugh at me and tell me to come back when I'm an adult. Well, those who are even willing to take a female with them." She growled quietly at the thought of those sexist captains.

"I was at the training pits looking for any captains I haven't asked yet to see if they'd agree to have me as part of their band," she shook her head, "no luck today."

Deimos was a little startled by the suddenness of his reaction, but made a mental note that she found it appropriate. No one in her family had sexist prejudices, though some were less faithful in the capabilities of a young adolescent. If Agnar had agreed with the misogyny, Deimos would have had to have excused herself quite abruptly and never spoken to him again. She was glad this was not the case.

She nodded empathetically.

"I hope it's sooner instead of later."

She stood and waded into the deeper water. She was comfortable in the sea, having been raised alongside it. She could sufficiently read its moods, but she had been warned before of riptides that were nearly invisible to the eye. Perhaps her expression betrayed a bit of her uncertainty, but she kept her eyes locked on Agnar and tried not to worry.

Deimos doggy-(kitty-? lion-y-?) paddled alongside him but felt relief wash over her like the waves when she had solid sand back under her paws. She nodded at him as he bid her adieu and smiled at him.

"And the same to you, Agnar."

She watched him leave and remained at the beach for a little longer until the rising tide drove her back to drier land. Well, she figured, it was time to keep seeking captains to take her on a viking.