Stavanger Bay with the salt on our skin

Under the Sea’s watchful eye, Szymon paid tribute to the wolves that were now his infantrymen — brothers and sisters in battle. Slathering his lean, flinty-muscled frame in the sea lion pup’s blood, he turned to his brother, his lips reeling in a quivering, incensed expression of joy so fierce it bordered on violence. Shoulder to shoulder, he painted @Skellige’s fur with the blood — dark as cuttlefish ink in the sallow evening light — and he was swift to pay the same respects to his Chosen One, though before the Sea, @Doe did not belong to him. He plunged his muzzle into the plum whiskey, drinking deeply, gulping greedily, the hiss and burn fissuring its way through his throat with a sensation so heady it caused his hackles to ripple to life. And he threw back his head, a resonant, glorious howl of homecoming splitting the restless shift and slither of other bodies, other voices. The small, golden child who sat so fearfully behind Szymon was met with a furrow of brow; he remembered his childhood and the fear he had felt. Crouching down to lay upon his stomach so as not to frighten @Larkspur further, he attempted to very lightly touch the bloodied tip of his nose to one tiny toe — if she backed away, he would be quick to retreat and give her the personal space she needed.

A powerful roll of angular shoulders and shift of scarred paws brought him to @Leokadia’s side. The excitement in his golden eyes did not die or even sputter — there was immunity here granted to both of the estranged siblings. Though he avoided his pallid sister as a matter of habit, tonight he relished her height and strength; tonight he saw her as an ally. Swiveling his hips with a smirk — he was possibly reeling a little from the plum whiskey — he sought to sidle his flank alongside her own, anointing her with the sacrificial blood in a fashion neither would care to repeat when sober.

@Arturo was next on Szymon’s list, and with purposeful strides he strove to brush the side of his blood-swathed muzzle against the older male’s shoulder. He had appreciated the coywolf’s quiet conversation more than he could adequately express. A rare smile and low, guttural rumble of warm welcome spilled from the black-banded Cairn’s jaws. @Tetsubō was greeted similarly; Szymon did not know him well, but he recalled Tetsubō’s ferocity at the borders and regarded the weapon of destruction with newfound respect. If the boy allowed it, Szymon sought to brush his muzzle against Tetsubō’s shoulder, hoping that he would be met with a guardian who could strengthen the silver sword all the more. @Fluer was treated with far more tentativeness; aside from his sisters, Doe, and Deirdre, he had no experience with the fairer sex. Moving slowly, careful to keep his senses honed lest she snap at him, he reached out his neck to sweep Fluer’s shoulder with the blood of the sacrifice.

Of all the wolves, he approached @Lagertha with the greatest care. He did not understand why the wolf had turned from him so abruptly; tact and politeness were not typical Cairn traits to behold, and he still regarded his questioning of her as completely within his rights. Tonight he vowed to set aside his suspicions — Doe was fond of the warrior woman, and although Szymon could not completely understand why, what mattered was that Lagertha had been found acceptable by the Leviathan and would now be tested and blessed by the Sea. Though not profoundly apologetic, his expression was open and friendly — boyish, perhaps, revealing an innocence that not even the monster within his breast could stifle — as he approached her. She had moved against him in the circle, and now he sought to return the favor, reaching out his nose, ever wary of rebuff as he attempted to brush his shoulder against hers. Before the Sea, they were sister and brother — allies under Skellige’s rule.

Then, bewitched by the ceremony — and helplessly, by Doe — Szymon whipped around, his paws moving easily in the familiar sinking of the sand as he gave chase to the little witch doctor, throwing his head back to shatter the sky with another resounding howl of triumph and challenge.