Ardent waves in the distance end up as brisk foam around the ankles. And more than that, the bunnies roaming the island live in beautiful garden villages, something about their domesticated ancestors maybe.
Regardless, that is the aesthetic they chose. Yesterday or a thousand years ago matters not, their ears are tall and they're cute and friendly with lives of their very own. And aurean sunsets are better enjoyed with a carrot anyway.
One such pretty thing bops a head of hair with a carrot, and the head of hair heaves up seawater while lying on the sand by the shore in the evening. Waters brought in a castaway, runaway, washed up a thing for the bunnies perhaps, who's to say.
Humans they're called and the bunnies like to snuggle up to them and get handfed carrots too, as far as the old stories in the village go anyway. The pretty thing was born sick and then the illness faded and left in its stead green eyes and blood red lips, thus her name was chosen to be Rhubarb.
"Rhubarb."
Muffled by her long scarf which Rhubarb pulls up over her lips a little, not shy at all nope, her voice is cute still, everyone can tell. She tilts her head to one side then the other, ears flop here and floop there. The human's a curious thing she thinks. Bonk another careless carrot wallop to rouse the human now without waterlogged lungs.
"Human, okay now?"
She points a thumb over her shoulder, the rise of a dune and what's behind the deep green trees growing right by the beach, some roots show in the sand.
"Village there, house with green roof, carrot cake. Rhubarb and human, hm? Stay with Rhubarb or crawl back underwater."
She scoffs and it's very cute. Was that a joke from this bizarre cute icy bunny? She thinks it was funny, like that time Mascarpone bonked Cinnamon over the head with the year's biggest carrot and it snapped in half. The carrot that is, not Cinnamon's head. That was funny to Rhubarb too.
