Wheeling Gull Isle how to call on old gods

a wild claim thread appears! ♥

Axolotl stirs from slumber just as the sun has even begun its ascension in the morning sky painting the horizon a myriad of pastel colors: pinks, blues, yellows, oranges, purples and blues. There a few clouds that drift lazily in the sky but he pays them little mind before checking to ensure that Atlan will not unleash yet another storm of unbridled fury upon them. The tide is high as the leviathan makes his way down to the beach but it is calm where it laps upon the sands. Atlan has spent Their ire but Axolotl also knows that Their temperament is as unpredictable and ever changing. He understands it because it is like his own. Set with purpose, though, as he has been there is little time for untamed mood swings. He is no medicinal shaman but he collects what he can at the instructions of those who know more than him in the medical trade, he fishes and collects clams, mussels, and crabs — and when fortune favors him he manages to bring a few seagulls to the recently made caches.

This morning he turns his attention to border marking. Though they have yet to gather and discuss their options this Isle is theirs and marking borders is the only way to ensure that they are no invasions of other wolves, curious wayfarers and alike ilk. They were brought together — a group of strangers and non-strangers alike — and it is only logical to lay claim to what has become their salvation in a bleak and at the time grim situation. He marks the land meld between beach and solid ground, pausing to lift his leg and urinate, move forward a few steps and paw at the ground utilizing the scent glands in his pawpaws. They have appointed no Alpha runs off of his own mental check list of things that must be done in order to accomplish and seize the incredibly rare gift they have all been given.

*snatches wild claim thread* 
sorry she's greedy 

It felt strange for Maera to be here.
Still, this feeling of discomfort was not always present, it came and went periodically as the waves reached the shore only to leave once more. Currently the Sveijarn drowned in a sense of uneasinesss. Yet, not for one second did it cross her mind to leave.
She wouldn't.
Couldn't.

When Maera had woken, the pastel hues from the sunrise and Axolotl were long gone.
She figured he had left to continue what they had left from the day before when in a beautiful casuality, an unexplicable luck, they had again crossed paths. For a second, she resented that he had gone without her, that he had not woken her. Even if Maera had offered to help everyone involved in the disaster, it was for him and him alone she had come in the first place. His silent departure made Maera's thoughts become tangled.

After a giving the tufts of fur on her chest a couple of licks in a feeble attempt to flatten them, the fiery Sveijarn began to give herself a tour of the island.

Feel free to skip me ♥ This post is no good, but I wanted to help out with the pack claiming threads.

Like Axolotl, Coelacanth had begun to feel a certain possessiveness toward the island. There was something momentous about the way it had sheltered the wolves from the churning fury of sea and sky that suggested they belonged to it as much as it belonged to them. For Seelie personally, though, the isle held a deeper, more poignant significance.

The tiny Groenendael had shed her burdens upon this island’s shores and had expelled the vitriol of long months of trauma. Fresh, clean food and restful days had restored the glossy cobalt sheen to her atramentous fur, and although she was still emaciated and skeletal, Seelie was making slow improvement every day. Most of her healing had to do with her badly wounded psychological state, but the truth remained that she had been reborn here.

Axolotl’s border marking had not escaped the inky sheepdog’s notice, and she made to follow his scent — but she was intercepted by a bewitchingly lovely female whose bright plumage gave her the appearance of a creature afire. Hesitation followed swiftly, just a step behind awe, but Coelacanth had already stepped out into the open. Finely tapered muzzle dipped as she backpedaled a pace or two, having noticed the hazel-eyed wayfarer even if she herself had not been noticed. A soft whuff ghosted from lips that trembled with trepidation, tufted ears skimming back against her skull to convey shyness and then pressing forward to make her curiosity known. The sharp ridges of her hips dipped low as she folded her tiny, fragile frame into a soft lowercase “c” to look appealingly up at @Maera.

♥!

Axolotl had tried his best not to wake Maera as he slipped from her side early in the first traces of morning. Inexplicably, there was a great reluctance within the leviathan to leave her side and a great desire to simply lay back down and sleep a few more hours beside her but he feels duty bound and he takes to the normal routines that all fledgling packs must undergo taking on the tasks of his own free will. He is glad that the fiery Sveijarn came and is even more so glad that she stayed and did not disappear from him like the divine imagine he wants to mistake her as. Still, in his blissful ignorance of how women work he lets her to her dreams unaware that she was woken already and is upset with him for not rousing her from slumber.

He pauses after a few more steps, lifts his leg and marks another stretch of melding land. The beach, theoretically also belongs to them but their scent markings would never take to the ever shifting sand and rising tide. It is better if the beach takes on a no man’s land — a place where hopefuls can await to be greeted by guardians or leadership. This is what makes sense to Axolotl at least, for if they were made to wait at Sea Lion Shore the way can only be crossed at few times throughout the day with a small time frame to work with and the swim is further than it appears.

He almost misses Maera. No, that isn’t expressly true. It is Coelacanth’s soft whuff that catches his attention first. He kicks back clumps of dirt and sand as he leaves his scent upon the small stretch of borders and deviates only slightly from his rudimentary patrol to investigate. It will take time before he can forget the feral manner in which Coelacanth greeted them — those that she knew — and fears what she may do to someone she does not know. They cannot have her attacking the wolves of the Isle — if Komodo and Ixchel cannot see it then Axolotl will intervene and watch as best he can. Because he does not want to see any one else hurt, because he does not wish to see Coelacanth hurt. In this, he remains steadfast, pragmatic and impartial. Maera is a vision in the sunlight as his glacial gaze slides from the familiar inkblot to the fiery visage of the flame given flesh. “Maera,” He breathes, though for the briefest of moments it catches in his throat. “Coelacanth,” he murmurs to the inkblot in greeting second, his gaze flitting from woman to woman but he stands where he has stopped. Idly, he wonders if he could recruit either …or both to aid him in marking out borders. It an arduous task and even more so alone.

She did not make it too far.
Soon after breaking into a trot, Maera found herself face to face with the first of these others Axolotl had spoken of. Instinctively, as she had been caught off guard and because the simple thought of being in an island full of strangers she was not sure would welcome her had her a little on edge, the flame's first reaction was to raise her tail in alert. Though she did not flash her teeth at the smaller female, a low chuff that converted into an anxious whine escaped her.  

She parts her lips to speak but no sound comes from her mouth as it is Axolotl's voice that fills the air first. Maera shoots a glance at the man over her shoulder and though he calls her name she does not respond. She is however happy to see him, that she cannot hide, for her tail begins to sway gently before she turns back to the dark coated girl that Axolotl also adresses. She is the epitome of mystery embodied, Maera decides as she watches her stare silently back at them. 

Coelacanth was having a good day — a cognizant one. This wasn’t to say that she’d be able to maintain the gentler side of her disposition, though; so much of who she was now depended on outside stimuli and stressors. Still, her reception of Maera was almost immediate — the ink-feathered plume of her tail began to wave slowly and her Neptune eyes half-closed in an expression of bashful contentment. Whether this contentment was in response to Maera’s reaction to Axolotl or the presence of the leviathan itself was up to interpretation. She did not bear any untoward mistrust for the Atlanian despite his wayward temperament, and she could not pretend to know exactly how he felt about her — but the atramentous empath was keenly attuned to the emotions of those around her, and his new wariness around her was plain. She knew that things were not as they had been, and this knowledge triggered an answering miasma of emotions: the desire to please him; the fear that she was wrong about his love; and an answering avoidance born of confusion and her doggish propensity for guilt.

Everything about her posture conveyed apology — it almost always did, but around Axolotl especially it was overt. Seelie kept her body low, watching with keen eyes the unfamiliar female’s body language, for anxiety had been so swiftly drawn in the quick flicker of that foxlike plume and the trilling reverberation of that whine. Maera could not yet be trusted, which wasn’t to say that Coelacanth bore any ill will toward her — it was simply that the sheepdog needed to be on her best behavior and could not take the same liberties she might have taken toward Komodo, King, or Cascada. She kept her distance, a willing participant, tufted ears pressing gently forward upon her skull as she offered a fluting, toneless whine of goodwill and lifted one paw entreatingly. Was she welcome here?

Axolotl watches as the flame goddess shoots him a glance over her svelte shoulder as her name slips from betwixt his lips and he worries for a second that he has unintentionally upset her but though she does not speak her body language conveys that she is happy to see him and his own body reacts in kind. The slight stiffen of muscles as he expects retribution smooth as he relaxes a second later. It is minute and barely noticeable lest one of the two women was paying close attention to him. Axolotl’s expression softens as he approaches the women, noting upon Coelacanth’s apologetic body language. She hardly seems the feral gremlin (typed with the utmost love!) that she had been the night Atlan had spit her from Their depths. The inkblot is not fully herself but she is more herself than she was that fateful night and it is enough to cause guilt ti writhe within the leviathan’s chest. He will not apologize for any commands he has issued then or forthwith because they cannot have her running amok a feral pup might and someone has to speak to her in a way that her (new) feral side would understand. Axolotl feels that softness and hushed words would only cause her to further see them as prey. Perhaps he is wrong but savagery is something he understands.

“Maera, this is Coelacanth Corten,” The leviathan seeks to make the introductions when his steps cease. “Coelacanth, this is Maera Sveijarn.” He then turns to Maera figuring he might explain what she will, no doubt, quickly figure out for herself. “Coelacanth cannot speak.” He informs Maera, glacial gaze shifting from the inkblot to the flame. He has not forgotten his purpose nor intent of inquiring as to if they will assist him in marking out borders but for now he places those thoughts back in favor of seeing the two women properly acquainted with one another.

sorry x___x

As if the frail sheepdog's silence were contagious, Maera continued to watch the scene unravel without making a sound, and this time, not even parting her lips to express a desire to end this sudden silence that had overcome her. She wasn't one to trust strangers easily so she could too relate to the other's wariness. Maera's tail doesn't cease to flick anxiously, she wants to meet this girl she really does, for it is to her and the others that Maera has offered her help, but she too is filled with a sudden urge to run back to the anonymity she has refuged herself until now that Axolotl, probably sensing none would break the silence, decides to make introductions for them.

Coelacanth, she echoes in her mind, finding the name beautiful and rare - just like the creature before her. However, it her last name that causes Maera's ears to perk up. Wasn't he a Corten, as well? She wondered suddenly, turning her head back to seek answer for this unspoken question in Axolotl's eyes.
Were they related?
How so?
They didn't look like littermates, so Maera could only conclude they shared their last name from another union. 
Were they mates?

Maera's heart fell to the depths of her stomach and roused a wave of nausea. 
Axolotl then informs her she cannot speak, and Maera, without shifting her hazel gaze from the female, only hums in response. She does not ask why, not only because it is inappropiate, but because she feels simply that all that she can say is useless.
Or so she feels. 

After a while of simply watching Coelacanth, she opens her mouth "a pleasure, Coelacanth" she says with a dip of her nose, then Maera turns once more to the man.
Though fire seems to kiss her entire body, she feels suddenly cold.
Suddenly dumb.

My work week is starting, so please feel free to powerplay Seelie. ♥

Axolotl made the necessary introductions, and Coelacanth responded with a respectful dip of her elegantly tapered muzzle toward the other female. The leviathan seemed to attach a particular significance to the girl who glowed like the heart of an exceptionally brilliant sunset, and Seelie wanted badly to please him. “A pleasure, Coelacanth,” the Sveijarn said, and although the tiny Groenendael had advanced to whispering words other than merely sleepyhead, she kept silent. Maera seemed nice — and nervous! — and Coelacanth wished to assuage any worries, if she could. If her presence was not wanted here, she would leave; and if she was put to a task, she would perform it to the best of her ability.

Moving timorously, she tiptoed up to Axolotl and made to trace the line of his jaw with the wet of her nose in submission. Then, fitting her paws into her own prints with obsessive meticulousness, she backed away and redirected herself toward Maera. It frightened her to be so close to the unfamiliar female, and her body took up a fine trembling as she made herself low, bending and bending until she was on her stomach, sphinx-like, reaching out toward one flame-kissed paw with a cautious nose. “Everything will be okay,” she wanted to tell the girl, but she had to satisfy herself with a soft, airy whine.

eep, i did not realize it was my turn to post please forgive me. ;-;

Coelacanth draws closer to him and there is a very minute tensing of his muscles though she seems quite herself …or rather the inkblot that the leviathan remembers. He stands still and though he is not aware of it proud as the inkblot traces the line of his jaw in submission. He does not rise voice to scold her for her submission — not as he once might have. There are seeds he is attempting to sow, seized by the sudden desire that had never harbored within him before, and he knows that Coelacanth’s support will help. He’d always been as the tide: unpredictable, untamable and thus, perhaps, it is only natural that he take on Atlan’s commanding and authoritative nature as well. There is no higher commanding presence than the sea for it rules all.

Glacial gaze flits back to Maera as Coelacanth turns her attention back to the flame kissed Sveijarn and there is a slight stir within him. They are adopted, their bond not of flesh and blood but by bond of family in it’s own way distinct and differently classified, but he seeks the inkblots approval of Maera and in a way vice versa. There remains still the matter of introducing Maera to Ixchel but as he is not quite sure what he and the flame kissed woman are to one another yet he does not wish to rope his blood sister into the mixture quite yet. “Her grandfather, Riptide, took me and my siblings under his wing when we were children. Something I am forever grateful for.” Axolotl offers Maera as he knows it is obvious that he and Coelacanth cannot be claimed as siblings in the slightest. Axolotl knows that without Tarnish, Riptide and the wolves of Vargas Island that he, as young as he was (especially when he’d nearly drowned) would probably not have survived to see him into his adult life.

He repays their charity and hospitality back as best he can by calling himself a Corten with pride and hopes they would not be disappointed with what he has done, thus far, in his life.

The sheepdog's cold nose reaches out to her and Maera folds her ears back as she recieves the gentle touch of the girl. Softly, she lets out another hum, almost a purr-like sound that is meant as a greeting to Coelacanth alone. Then Axolotl speaks again and Maera, letting her ears swivel on top of her head again to face the man, simply listens.

Now she felt dumb.
Dumb but somewhat relieved.
"ah, i see", is all she can offer while a little voice inside her head scolds her for not being able to keep a leash on her insecurities.  

Then, with her hazel eyes seeking Axolotl's she tried to steer the topic past the introductions, being a little afraid Axolotl might have picked up on the stupid tensing of her muscles caused by an uncontrolable, unwarranted, flush of jealousy. "were you busy?" she asks the man, her eyes fleeting only momentarily to Coelacanth because she does not want her to feel ignored. It had seemed to Maera that Axolotl had been up to something before the three were brought together by some beautifully strange coincidence, and hopefully he will sense in her question a unspoken one, 'do you need help?'

She wants to tell him she is there to help him, especially, or ask if he wants to hunt oe whatever but does not.
All she does is wait, her eyes fixed on him.

The low, murmuring hum that trilled softly from Maera’s lips was met with an answering purr from the sheepdog, airy and toneless, like an errant breeze ruffling a bough of gilt-edged leaves. Axolotl and Maera had accepted her, and she basked in their welcome, a fraction of her anxiousness easing; her high-arched shoulders relaxed and her gamine, serpentine form smoothed out into a splay-legged stretch. She yawned, the last of the tension dissipating with the soft pop! of cartilage in her jaws, and shook out her atramentous fur.

Seelie’s Neptune eyes half-closed, arching like rainbows as she listened to their conversation with eager ears. Axolotl had not turned her away or spoken sternly to her — and she wanted to dance with the joy of it! Instead, though, she expressed her delight via a gentle, steady waving of her feathered tail and a low whuff of readiness and agreement to the note of goodwill she’d picked up in Maera’s tone. She would aid them with whatever they needed, if only they would let her stay close to them.

Together, the trio spent the afternoon marking and placing borders.