Sand Guardian, Guardian of the Sand!

There were fewer things that Honeycomb loved more than spending his time at the beach. He had spend a great deal of time there ever since it became the summer hub and even before its popularity surge, the imperial would spend all his days with his hooves sinking into the sand. He was among the larger of his subspecies, standing at 6 feet in length vertically and 2 feet horizontally, provided he stretched his tail out, that was. Being a larger size was not exactly a convenient thing amongst those who were so much shorter in stature. Why in the case of Celestials, he often felt as though he towered over them, like one might look down at their fyrefowl. 

So, as a result of his size, he had taken to spending time outside. Among the trees made him feel ill at ease, he couldn't put his mind to rest when there were branches enclosing him, cutting him away from any sense of freedom. It had taken him some exploration to get to the beach the first time, not too long after he'd been summoned to Silverlight and seeing the wide expanse of and, and then, beyond it, the ocean that seemed to go on forever, he had finally felt as though he had found his home. 

Honeycomb was a kitsu of little materialistic value. He did not collect silver, nor did he engage with the care of livestock. He'd found and begun to feed some wandering fyreroos along the beach, not knowing if they'd escaped their coops or were wild. They certainly didn't act domesticated, with their tendency to peck at his fingers. Hand feeding, he had learned quickly, was not an option. Scattering it on the ground adjacent to his hooves was much more preferable to all parties involved. The fyreroos now occupied the beach with him, scratching under the sand and occasionally coming back with feathers. His largest roo would often stand over its hole and caw until he went to find it, in which he managed to find a deposit of fine sand. He didn't know what importance the sand was to the roo, but he always made a point to take a pile from the deposit, which seemed to satisfy the Lead Roo to a point where it would cease its unharmonious screeching. 

Honeycomb didn't mind the weather, but living at a beach, he tried to scrap together what shelter he could find for his bird companions. Eventually, he settled on buying a coop for his fowl, choosing a patch of sand that was stable enough to hold it, so that the coop didn't get buried in the sand. He ensured that it was kept from the reach of the highest tide and built it himself, wanting to ensure that if the weather ever became undesirable to his fowl friends, that they could have a roof over their heads. 

The coop was the closest thing to a home that Honeycomb possessed, but as stated before, the imperial much preferred the open sands. While trees made him anxious, tucking into the sand felt cozy. On warm days, it kept him cool and on cold days, he was able to produce enough fire with his powers under the sand to keep himself insulated and cozy. His fyreroos had become accostumed to finding Honeycomb out in the depths of the sand, buried to his waist. Before he had pets, he would dig under the sand and bury himself in to his head, but there's only so many times your horn can get pecked at by a busybody fyreroo, before you opt to have your hands free to shoo them away. 

Now, how was he going to explain his comfort to the 'tourists' of Silverlight? He'd gotten some offers to be helped out of his sandy bed and he was getting tired of repeating himself about how "No, no, I'd like to be here, thank you. Please don't dig me out" near constantly. Maybe he ought to get himself a sign to post on the matter. Or maybe, he could utilize his unruly fyreroos and somehow train them to peck at any onlookers to tried to lend a helping hand. No... that wouldn't do at all, too violent and aggressive for his tastes. Well, best to go find the materials for a poster. Now, how to discover the polite wording for a helpful society? (WC: 735)