“Do mortals not build sandcastles?” he asked, knowing well they did. He had witnessed them do so with his own eyes. True, they were not as grand as his own – many could barely be called castles, but he knew it was still a practice. Caliban glanced over at her, noting her shiver. Though he only wore his vest, the sleeves covered him to mid bicep and it was made of heavy hide – it would at least keep her torso and parts of her arms warm. He shrugged it off and draped it over her shoulders before he walked over to his castle and repaired one of the towers.
“I build many things,” Caliban finally answered. “This day I happened to build a sandcastle.” A home of a prince and a king – but he kept that information to himself. “I know you think little of me, but I do enjoy more in this life than just competing for the throne, though I would be speaking falsely if I say I did not greatly enjoy that.” He gave her a small grin before he went back to his work. “Making things with my hands gives me peace.” The words were soft as they left him, the surf almost washing them away with the screams of the Damned, but they were still said. “What about you, your highness? Do you enjoy building sandcastles?”
Sabrina felt the weight of heavy fabric on her shoulders with surprise, Caliban having walked away before she could thank him. She watched with measured gaze before properly putting the jacket on. Perhaps kindness was a ripple that ran through him not only called upon for favors. Sabrina followed and watched him work from a few feet away, arms wrapped around her torso to keep the leather-like vest shut.
It could be asked if Caliban liked building things with his hands because he himself was formed, much like the chicken and the egg conundrum. Yet, he also wanted to build realms, she recalled, so it was not all on sand castle size level.
“I’d say I enjoy sandcastles about as much as the next person,” she answered nonchalantly, but squinted at the souls caged at sea amended, “well, not the next person.”
Kneeling by the unconstructed side, she patted the dark sand into it’s basic structure. He knew all the turrets and parapets, but she could figure out base level well enough.
“In the mortal realm I have a dolls house. It’s to scale a remake our mortuary mansion.” The sand was cold against her hands, but the texture is soothing as she slides her fingers over the grain to smooth out a section. “My aunts made the outside, but I did all the rooms. It was fun.”
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