Drifting more South than Southwest as intended, it could have been the waft of sea salt in the cold breeze that lured his nose and his meandering to the sand kissed shoreline of the coastline. As anticipated, the degrees in temperature plummeted considerably as the Italian neared the seaboard of the Atlantic, but it was not enough to deter him from reaching the waterfront of this area tucked away from broader regions of coastline. High noon, as the sun waltzed and glittered along the gently crashing waves and tides of the Atlantic. As soon as his bipedal paws were able to sift and sink down into the creamy smear of cold sand, Ettore let the rest of him follow in descending. Plopping down upon his tail, the Italian threw down his travel bag some feet away from himself and outstretched his knees and rested his elbows upon his kneecaps. Even journeying hundreds of miles away from Italy herself, there was still some means to find a little paradise such as this out in the world. There was a gentle sigh to come from his nose, even a little grin to himself as he made sure to make an extra groove in the sand to where he was sitting to get more comfortable.
As far as his fiery ember eyes could see out into the horizon, Ettore knew he was gleaming in the direction of his country across the Atlantic. Thousands of miles of ocean separated himself from his origins, and while another might feel a pang of sadness in their soul for feeling misplaced from their country, Ettore felt… humbled. He realized those thousands of miles across was the place he was raised, where his father taught him everything he needed to know. Reflecting upon his past, Ettore was humbled to be sitting here right now, without the need of Serge to be guiding him. The Italian was his own keeper now, his own vagabond, his own man. He wasn't conditioned to mimic Serge's beliefs anymore, he didn't follow his father's every footstep like he used to. Ettore was making his own trails now, and while he couldn't give a damn about his father's absence, at the same time… there was something in him that wanted to show Serge what Ettore accomplished thus far all on his own.
Like beads pressing one by one into the sand to meld themselves, his spine recoiled to where he was now lying on his back, his hands caressing behind his head, and knees still up. Perhaps too cold of a day and season yet to be enjoying sunbathing on a beach like coastal region, but it was nice enough to be consumed into the salty air, the sand, and feeling familiar memories of costal weather from Italy herself. Amber eyes slipped closed, and Ettore enjoyed his solace to himself momentarily.
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