Like reflex, Hellboy's gaze turns toward the direction of the sea. The salty ocean breeze is like an invisible compass, a silent beckoning to the shore.
After spending two years in chains at the bottom of the ocean, you'd think it would be the last place he'd want to be. But it calls to him, pulls at his bones with longing, dark and deep. It's the type of longing that wormed its way into the hearts of old sailors, of those who have lived and suffered the ways of the sea, and have seen her secret mysteries.
O, Stormy, he is dead and gone...
His tail lashes slightly behind him, and he frowns at the echoes of memory. Gone, but not forgotten. This is exactly what he doesn't want to think about.
What he wouldn't give for a drink.
"Don't try heading out to sea and you'll be fine," he says, his gaze drifting back to the man. He nods at the device and notes piled on the ground. "Find anything?"
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After spending two years in chains at the bottom of the ocean, you'd think it would be the last place he'd want to be. But it calls to him, pulls at his bones with longing, dark and deep. It's the type of longing that wormed its way into the hearts of old sailors, of those who have lived and suffered the ways of the sea, and have seen her secret mysteries.
O, Stormy, he is dead and gone...
His tail lashes slightly behind him, and he frowns at the echoes of memory. Gone, but not forgotten. This is exactly what he doesn't want to think about.
What he wouldn't give for a drink.
"Don't try heading out to sea and you'll be fine," he says, his gaze drifting back to the man. He nods at the device and notes piled on the ground. "Find anything?"