Wheeling Gull Isle sea fever
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#1
All Welcome 
@King, but welcome to all Undersea members ♥

While not completely rehabilitated, Coelacanth was in considerably better shape than she’d been the first time she met the green-eyed girl and her erstwhile traveling companion — the long-limbed prowler who’d been the first to incite a reaction from the skeletal creature. Her fur was still lank and dull, lacking its usual luster; but as she tiptoed inland, snuffling hither and thither through the island’s wind-whipped foliage, there was a new liveliness to her steps that even her natural timorousness could not dispel. It would be some time before the harsh edges of her delicate framework were smoothed over by muscle and fat, but the madness was all but gone from her Neptune eyes and her wounds had been dressed.

It was midway between morning and afternoon when she wound her way through a tangle of sweet butterfly ginger — a treat to her senses, made all the more idyllic when a light rain began to fall, casting miniature rainbows in the sun. She snaked her body through the vivid labyrinth of glossy green leaves and fragrant white blossoms, and the petals fell like irregular blots of white paint onto her dark fur.
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As was common in his bloodline, King had immediately begun to feel possessive over the wolves that most often surrounded him. In the past, it'd been his mother and father, his sister and brothers - but today, it meant the ever-enigmatic Cascada, and the skeletal waif he had no name for.

It was the waif he sought out, a still-living albatross hanging from his jaws. It'd been badly injured during the storm, and there'd been almost no sport in snatching it off the ground. Feeling thusly unapetized, the male decided that the best thing to do with it would be feeding it to his waif, who always needed a good meal.

He approached her loudly, but carefully, knowing she did not appreciate being startled or snuck up on. King made sure she heard him coming from far away, and kept his pace slow so to that she had time to get used to the idea of his presence. And then, before he could see her, but when her scent became strong enough that he thought she'd be near enough to hear, the male set down his gift and called out to his waif.

"You there, Pookie? I brought food."

Where the would normally be an exclaimation point, declaring his manliness at having procured a meal for his waif, King kept his voice warm but disinterested, not wanting to excite her too much.
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The sheepdog’s first reaction was involuntary. Tufted ears folded against her skull like a pair of paper fans snapping shut, moving in tandem with a swift, reactive duck of her head. The flinch turned full body, and her carriage dipped low so that a bough of the ginger fell across the tapered slope of her muzzle. She shrank into the fragrant cloud of green and white, Neptune eyes half-wild as she peered around, lips pulled taut in a nervous grimace.

Oh! It’s you!

Recognition bloomed in the tiny Groenendael’s bright cerulean gaze as she peeked through a cluster of viridian leaves and ivory blossoms and hesitantly made her approach. The scent of food had preceded King’s announcement, but out of politeness and genuine curiosity she pinned her eyes upon the shallowly breathing bird he’d placed upon the ground. “Pookie” was an odd name — as odd as “Big Ears” — but she accepted it as she’d accepted him, with a hastily sketched wag of her feathered tail and a nervous whine that wheedled from her in a whuffling undertone. Oddly, she trusted him. The green-eyed girl had deemed him trustworthy through her acceptance of him, and Seelie found it easy to follow suit.

The food was almost forgotten in the face of the giver himself, and Coelacanth tiptoed fully from the foliage to stand in the sun a few feet away from him while the rain pattered softly down and the sky filled with kaleidoscopic color. “Isn’t this nice?” she seemed to say, tipping her muzzle rhapsodically toward the sky as she shook the tension from her muscles and the leaves from her fur. There was something healing about the island, and whether that was due to Komodo’s shamanism or Axolotl’s fanatic devotion was anybody’s guess.
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King wagged his tail as she approached, glad to see that she'd gotten over much of her skittishness, at least around him. He knew there were others around, but he'd yet to meet them, still not sure if there was a way to escape the land they'd seemed to claim as their own. He hardly knew how he'd gotten here - much less how to leave - and peace seemed best kept by avoiding the others while he worked out what he wanted to do.

The male was gratified, at first, when she seemed to ignore the food in favor of him. Briefly, he allowed himself to be swept up by the same joie de vivre as she, as the rain and the breeze really were rather nice. But soon enough he was back to being King, and turned to pat the ground with his paws in a gesture that was less play with me and more pay attention to me!

After all, they'd had quite enough of the weather, lately. What they hadn't had was fun.
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The little Groenendael tipped her delicate head to the side, regarding King with an oblique, upturned expression of shy curiosity. His warm reception of her reinforced the belief that he was safe — and perhaps it was this that coaxed her true nature out of hiding. Her feathered plume waved slowly behind her, intermittent tremors and quakes in her waiflike musculature betraying the lingering unease that she could not seem to shake; but when she attempted to mirror his playful bow with one of her own, she seemed to get stuck.

Catlike paws inched forward and the crenellated bridge of her spine arched gracefully, but she stopped short and hesitated, drawing back up to her full height. She repeated this nervous gesture a few times, but it became plain to her that King was more concerned with her observing his game than taking part in it. With the pressure lifted, Seelie relaxed enough to pirouette neatly, her slim jaws parting as she “barked” encouragement. The flutter of her tail increased in pace as she ghosted a few daring paces forward, tilting her head and neck to the right as she lifted up her left forepaw and waved at him with timorous playfulness.
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That she turned toward him at all was enough to appease him, though mood was further improved by her sad attempts at returning the gesture. It became clear very quickly that it wouldn't be happening then, and as soon as he'd discerned the fact, King popped out of his bow and wagged his tail furiously in praise of what little she'd accomplished. And when she 'barked', he barked back, his voice loud and booming, but hopefully friendly enough not to frighten her off.

He bowed once more, but quickly melted into a wiggling puddle, hoping his wisp would feel more at ease with him lower than herself. Mimmicking her still, he held out a paw as she did, reaching toward her as her rolled onto his back and craned his head in her direction. Look at me, he said, look how silly I am!
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#7
Coelacanth had always been a very tactile creature, depending on the language of touch to offer and seek comfort. After the long months of abuse and neglect, however, the idea of having another wolf so close to her — even safe wolves like Cascada and King — was utterly terrifying. The sheepdog’s feralized mind had deemed it too difficult to distinguish between aggression and asylum, so complete avoidance had become her modus operandi.

Seelie had progressed significantly since her revival at the water’s edge, and the first tickles of true joy and affection had begun to tease at her wounded heart and battered mind. Now and again, they broke through — and it was these little fissures that would eventually break down the walls that kept her trapped in the miniature copy of the Wolfskull that existed within her, an exquisitely crafted prison of her own making. A shy smile — not her first since arriving on the island, but the first she’d given to King — tipped up the corners of her lips.

He was so silly! The smile widened and broke, a whuffling giggle causing her emaciated flanks to quiver. Then, without thinking, she flowed forward on sprightly paws to touch the tip of her nose to one of the golden-eyed male’s leathery paw pads. The contact sparked alarmingly and she drew away almost immediately, but she had lingered long enough that neither of them could deny it had happened or chalk it up to simple happenstance.
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#8
King withdrew when she did, although his movement was simply to relax his limbs, rather than to recoil. He didn't want to push her, but something deep inside him always twinged when he saw how hard these things were for the wisp.

The male closed his eyes against the sight of her fearful figure - she was far more at ease than she'd been when they met, but there was still a gaping chasm between the two of them. For a wolf like King, who'd left home only recently, and had come from a close-knit and loving family, it was almost more frustration than he could take. He needed wolves that would lay beside him in the sunlight, and pile together in the coldest winters, and chase fireflies in the evening, tumbling together when they tried to catch the same one.

"It's okay, Pookie," he said, his voice soft and low, not quite sure if he was forgiving a transgression or simply trying to comfort the girl. It felt more like trying to comfort himself.
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#9
She held her breath, waiting for — well, she didn’t quite know. For a creature like Coelacanth, who had lived the entirety of her life seeking the approval of others, every action was followed by an involuntary period of intent anticipation and keen observation. This unusual pattern of constantly asking permission and seeking reassurance made befriending others clunky and uncomfortable — but fortunately for her, King and Cascada seemed to be patient with her myriad flaws. “It’s okay, Pookie,” he told her, his voice as soothing as it always was, and her tufted ears tipped forward upon her skull with unfeigned interest.

There was something almost sad about the new solemnity in King’s timbre, and the skittish little wolfdog didn’t know how to bring the mood back up. Maybe she’d known how to do that once, but now — well, things were different now. She was different now. She melted into a puddle beside the younger male and mimicked his posture, rolling onto her back despite the vulnerable position it put her in. There was a slightly bewildered expression on her face as she craned her neck to match him. It was a very strange game, but she was sure she could learn to play it if it would make him happy again. Then, although it trembled, she deliberately reached out. If King allowed it, she would press her paw to his, palm to palm.
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#10
The faint rustle of movement caused King to open his head, and crane his head back toward the other wolf. A huff of laughter escaped him at the bewildered look on her face, and though it further endeared her to him, his chest still gave a painful twinge. Still, he reached his paw toward her and pressed it against her own.

"I miss my family," he admitted in a rush. Immediately, he felt lighter. "I miss my mom."

His face felt hot under his fur, but so what? Pookie couldn't tell anyone, and even if she could, King had a certain amount of faith in the little shewolf. She wouldn't share his secrets. "You probably miss your family, too, though," he went on, feeling a bit guilty for thinking so much of his own problems when Pookie had clearly been through far worse things. "I want to help everyone, and I want to be big and strong for you and Cas, but I still feel like a little kid. I don't know what to do."

He could hardly even look at her after saying this, and though the shame was awful, it felt better to have told someone about his pains.
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The soft huff of King’s laughter melted the tension from Coelacanth’s gamine frame, and her cerulean eyes half-closed with shy contentment. Her expression was warm and open as she listened to his troubles, and she leaned forward with a trembling muzzle to lick comfortingly at his cheek. He was sad, and who could blame him? Her heart swelled with compassion for the young wolf. Seelie was an active listener, and her Neptune eyes momentarily forgot their shyness as they drank in every shift of his handsome countenance.

Tufted ears stood at eager attention as King confessed his uncertainties and insecurities, and then Coelacanth decided to take action. If he wanted direction, she would help him — she was no leader, but she knew there were things that needed to be done. She bathed his face in kisses, whining her fervent encouragement, and backed away with him with a pointed quirk of her muzzle and a few suggestive bounces in the opposite direction. “Come with me!” she bade him, and when he made to follow she led him toward the activities she was familiar with: fishing, digging caches, and marking borders. In particular, she begged for his help moving a fallen log away from the mouth of a small cave simply because she wished to see what was behind it, and they toiled side by side for the greater part of the afternoon — only to discover that the cave, while interesting-smelling, possessed nothing of value.

They were dirty and bedraggled when their adventure came to an anticlimactic close, but as King returned to Cascada and Seelie to Komodo, they were both feeling better.