Wheeling Gull Isle a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied

This is the last MANDATORY thread for characters wishing to join Undersea.

This is an active participation thread for the wolves on Wheeling Gull Isle, and it will likely start out with a chorus of howls to determine where everyone is. This thread will serve as a claiming howl, a meet and greet, and a reunion all in one. When the pack forms officially, we can have an optional celebratory howling thread, but in order to get all the business out of the way before work eats me, I’m getting this posted early.

@Anatha @Aria @Axolotl @Calypso @Cascada @Cattail @Constantine @Dakarai @Faeryn @Ixchel @King @Komodo @Maera @Parthenos @Tael

The fury of the distant storm had thrust its hands deep into the heart of the sea, long, cold fingers of friction and motion wreaking reckless havoc. Even on a day like this one, where the sky seemed an impossibly clear shade of blue and the sun blazed brightly above, the earth seemed to limp to life with an otherworldly wariness. The weatherworn beaches were graced with a bounty that stretched as high as the grassy banks; the tide pools far to the west were filled to the brim with treasure; and the cliffs were again populated with the shrieking cries of ocean faring birds. All appeared to be well.

The land bridge that separated the island from the mainland glimmered beneath the surface like a strand of gold. The water level was still too high for it to reveal itself completely, but it lay there like a promise. A reminder, perhaps, that the wolves’ imprisonment, like everything else in the universe, would not — could not! — last forever.

At present, the ocean was traversable. Experienced wayfarers, however, would read in the smudge that lingered on the misted horizon a darker promise — for the sea’s anger is a deep and brooding thing whose shocks and outbursts far outlive the weather that triggers it. Out of sight, sharp, triangular fins sliced through the water’s surface and a humming churn heralded future proof of the sea’s power — but no wolf present would be able to see or hear it.

It was time for the wolves on Wheeling Gull Isle to make a decision: who would remain to greet the clouded dawn from the isle’s sandy shores, and who would leave? Only time would tell.

post by coelacanth.

As Komodo’s tenure on the island lengthened, the man felt himself grow more at ease. He was pleased with the quality of wolf he was surrounded with; those he had met, anyways. Even still, the sandbar tempted him as it glittered gold beneath the water’s surface, looking clean and innocent as if it did not just rage and revolt against all the life that lived upon it; but the island was large and diverse and life-giving. The exploring he had done led him to believe that the spit of land was very much capable of sustaining them. It was green, with shelter and prey and Axolotl had found abundant fresh water — it was a land of plenty, they knew where to look. 

His days had been filled with recovery and tending to the wounded, but much of his time was only spent around the wolves he sheltered with— there were others from the storm, knew they were there — he saw them. They must find each other, to band together and experience the security that wolves felt in numbers; to employ their skills in the most efficient. There was nothing else they could rely on other than themselves

— oh, and the gods. Of course. Right.

Komodo still hadn’t seen Ixchel since she had braved the tides, nor the masked woman from the beach who absconded off with a girl much smaller… and Aria, where was she? — and he, feeling a sense of responsibility over these wolves, began to fret. Perhaps they were hurt, as most wolves who washed up were injured in one way or another. In this way, the hale and healthy earthstalker considered himself lucky; he had traversed the ocean on his own volition, which was much more preferable than being vomited upon the land by the anger of the gods.

Actually, it was this realization his imbued his spirit with boldness and the brute decided could not wait no longer. He hauled in breath to his expansive lungs, tipped his chin towards the placid summer sky and gave a deep and bellowing call. Come to me, it rang — the message intended for the ears of the three females he knew of, but open to anyone within earshot. Come to the beach.

It hadn't been very long since he had washed upon the shores of Wheeling gull, an island which he could only guess was far from olive and his children. He had once again gained his strength and had begun exploring. It was apparent that he was not the only one, the scents of many strange wolves were imprinted upon the land here. Aside from Carina and faeryn he knew nobody else on the island, just the various strange scents of many. 

When a call rose from the beach his ears shot forward, listening to the sound and determining it was masculine. Someone was calling for others, and he was curious as to why. Moving forward with purpose he made his way to the beach, and once his paws hit sand he chuffed to announce his presence. Sitting down a few feet away from the male, he dipped his head in greeting "Hello. I hope I am welcome even if I am not who you hoped to see" he spoke calmly and in a friendly tone, not wanting any negative emotions to brew between them as strangers on the first meeting.

She had tried to aid the others wherever she could. Even when instinct told her to be wary  (mostly of the men) or when language became an unavoidable issue (but bodies spoke volumes without speech). In the days since their arrival the castaways had taught her much - but also, given Parthenos a new calling. She kept close to the dark wolf they called Coelacanthe and did her best to support the others as they mended. It was during a moment of respite - when she had snuck away to her cove - when the call reached her ears. Parthenos scrambled outside and raised her head, calling out against the drumming waves, I am here! in a manner that spoke to a beasts heart.

this sucks im sorry

Despite not having actually witnessed the terrible storm that had washed over the isle, Maera felt like she was experiencing the caos firsthand in her own mind. Like the wild winds of the hurricane, endless questions and fragmented thoughts flew around the Sveijarn's head and rattled her skull.
She was not with Axolotl when the call of an unknown voice summoned her and everyone else.

Maera's nose twitched as she weighted the only two options in hand. Respond to the stranger's call, or stay a ghost like she had so far been since arriving upon the island. Finally, with her mind set, Maera began to make her way towards the place the voice had risen. 

She was not the first to arrive, and though this both comforted her in a way, she felt a twinge in her stomach as she also realized Axolotl wasn't among the present. She approached slowly, her hanging low but her tail up, not as to assert dominance but rather reflect the curiosity and inevitable wariness of the flame. After her months of lonesome travel after leaving the Solstice Maera had almost forgotten what it was like to have other wolves around.

She noted the large male, probably the one who called and regarded him with a nod, then, a dark coated male that suddenly reminded her of Terrance not only because of the charcoal of his body but because he smelled like him. Strange. 
Then, another wolf came into the scene, her white coat being a complete contratast to the Terrance-look-alike. 
Without saying anything, Maera sat in the sidelines.
Although she did feel like a ghost, she knew her bright red coat would make it hard for her to go by unnoticed if more wolves began to show.

oops.

The leviathan does not heed the call that Earthstalker sends into the air though he know the others inevitably will. Perhaps the summons is not meant to put forth dominance but it riles Axolotl just the same in a ruffle of guard hairs. It would seem he is not the only one who has come to the conclusion that making this place a stable home was the next logical step and the thought fills his mouth with something better. Like his deity that stretches out vastly and powerfully before him Axolotl’s mood darkens because despite his refusal he lives with the sinking feeling that inevitably if other wolves heeded Komodo’s call then they would look to him to lead. Axolotl refuses to show support for that, especially when he has been doing just as much to try to keep the wolves fed and as tended to as he could. He even went to the mainland to track a few herds and brought back an able bodied recruit in the flame kissed Sveijarn. Normally, she is close to him but this day she is not and given Komodo’s summons he does not expect her to be.

Leadership is nothing the Atlanian ever truly aspired to. He knew his sacred duty to Atlan and the warrior shamans of the sea had always operated in a tier outside of the traditional ranks themselves. The elders were more revered for their knowledge but there was no hierarchy they abided to. The feeling of duty and responsibility are familiar …in some ways, but the way in which they had taken hold of him as late was not. This insurgence was far from familiar; and in the long run if the pack supported Komodo — and why would they have reason not to? — then there was nothing for him to do.

A curl of the leviathan’s lips is given as he lifts his leg and continues on his border marking because there was still land left unmarked and it gave him ample excuse to ignore the call (plus it was necessary to the whole process) while allowing him to sort through this newfound dominance and what, exactly, he intends to do with it.

She hadn’t seen much of the wolfdog since a few days prior but she has tended to the two girls as best she can. They are still alive and it is the only thing keeping her going. She struggles to feed them each day to gain their strength when hers is dwindling away by going without. That morning, when the sun shone high in the sky, all she wants to do still is sleep.

The howl in the distance causes her to bolt upright, feeling her head rush in sudden weakness that takes a moment to settle. Green eyes searches for @Anatha and @Calypso, knowing this isn’t something she can do alone. Not like this. Her ears droop back against her head and she noses each of them forward, urging them to tag along and find the source. She recalls the wolves on the beach the day she washed up but she has not seen much of anyone since and she moves her stiffened bones forward until she comes across the caller, and several other stragglers making their way to the source.

Still, she does not recognize the wolf that made the call to gather them but she knows a wave of pain when she thinks of Grayday and the mistake she made. Her jaw tightens and she glances back to make sure the two have kept up with her, and keeps them corralled in one place for the time being.

King had been hunting when the sudden cacophony of calls reached his ears. Not all who he'd scented on the island answered the call. Cascada hadn't, and the wisp couldn't - but he still wondered if they would go, and because of this, the male felt a strong need to investigate.

He caught up to @Cascada and her girls just as they stepped onto the beach, and his measly findings (two rotting carcassas of large but picked-over sea lion pups) were suddenly clenched much more tightly in his jaws. This was not for everyone, and yet, he knew he could not keep it to himself if the others chose to take it away.

Shooting a worried look toward his friend, he followed her toward the others, keeping close behind to guard the backs of the girls, and to make it clear that he was with them. Hopefully, the others here would see that the girls' needs were above their own, but in case they didn't, King kept his stance stiff and watchful. If they wanted his food, they'd have to fight him for it.

being somewhat vague since my vacation sort of smudged the cave thread... i am assuming that @Ixchel and @Faeryn are still within one another's company. please let me know if you had something else in mind and would prefer me edit my post.

aria january was more than confused at the coming events. she'd forgotten so much, unaware that she'd lived almost an entirely different life-- but she remained her name. that was enough identity for her, for now. she'd spent time in the cave with the somewhat hasty (but well-meaning) faeryn, and the knowledgable ixchel. she didn't mind their company as much as she feared she might, for aria had a tendency to get alone better with the opposite sex-- but they proved to be rather pleasant.


when the smell of rain and a few wispy clouds was all that remained of the brutal storm, she snuck out. though it smelled of wet everywhere, she was not worried about her new companions. they were adults, and should they want to find her again-- they could. besides, she was hungry, and storm aside, she knew that the beach held delicious treats that were-- in her opinion-- much easier game than a jackrabbit or deer. as she began towards the beach, a call rang out, one she actually-- believe it or not-- recognized! pleased to her that her religious acquaintance had made it through the storm, the pearl sought out his call, stopping only once to crunch through the shell of a rather lethargic crab. she'd eat him when she found komodo.

upon arrival, she saw several wolves-- plenty surprised to see so many wolves upon an island, aria paused a little while away, debating whether or not it was in her best interest to greet them. her hesitation was only moments long, however, for she moved silently and gracefully up to him. she was, she decided, not here to get pinned as an easy target-- in case anyone's intentions would be laced with malice. she knew the big guy, the one who called them. she gave him a humble dip of her head and stood nearby, still holding the crab in her jaws.

She was not all that far away from Aria when the call rose, so she caught up with the white-furred female while heading to the caller. She gave the other woman a small smile, and nodded a greeting. Upon arrival, she first spotted Dakarai. Faeryn shot him a smile too, glad that they seemed to get on well enough. They were not close friends, but having someone who didn't hate her was always good. Then again, it was sometimes funny to see the ones who did hate her. 

Her gaze fell upon the one who had called, and she nodded to him before glancing around at the other gathering wolves. Darn, how many of them were there? She had known there had been a considerable amount of them, but man. The gathering group were like.... large pack size. She flicked her tail somewhat anxiously, and kept her expression neutral. She was not trusting of these wolves, and perhaps that was what caused the slight raise of her tail (though it was not high enough that she would be the most dominant out of the wolves here). True, she did not like to be on the bottom, and refused to be the lowest here, but being on top was probably not a good idea here. She had no idea what to do with so many wolves. She would put in her comments and opinions if she felt the need.

the girl followed, moving at the side of Cascada with the occasional glance at the other girl. her movements were stiff, laced with pain from her bruised and battered ribs, and the collection of cuts and bruises that littered her left side and limbs, some of which displayed the earliest signs of infection already. they came across the others soon enough, and her ears flicked backwards in a clear display of unsettledness. they were all adults, strangers, and there were so many of them. the most discerning fact, however, was the silence. 

"Are we going to die, then?" her words, tinged by accent and the roughness of her throat, jarred the silence as others arrived. They were soft, almost toneless, as the fiery girl's gaze fell, hawkish, on every member of the group, before sitting beside Cascada. her demeanour faltered a moment as the movement jarred her ribs, but her fierce stare was quick to return. This place was an island, she thought. She knew about islands, from ... somewhere. the blurred memories and faces in her head were better off ignored. she didn't know if things could survive on them, especially the large amount of wolves that seemed to be here, along with the pale girl, Cascada and herself. her gaze, fiercely commanding an answer, fell on the large male, the one who seemed leader-ish. Komodo, and while she did not remember him, her rescuer.

They are all tired, she can tell. All the wolves that were there when she arrived and those that came after. She looks over her shoulder to see King situated near the rear but she doesn’t have much time to acknowledge his presence as soon as Anatha speaks up. Her ears fall back on her head and she looks to the girl with concern knitting her brows closer together. “What?” she asks, suddenly, followed by a very abrupt, “no!” followed by a few more, softer, nos. “It’ll be okay, I promise,” she says thickly, leaning in to give her an encouraging nudge of her cheek. “We’ll keep you safe, okay?” Cascada takes a few breaths as the familiar words slip past her lips instead of her ears. She points toward King a moment later and then with a roll of her nose, beckons him closer.

King cleared his throat importantly as he stepped forward, laying his findings down at the little girl's paws. He'd never seen a pup before - not since he'd been one himself, and those memories just kept getting hazier as the months flew by. "We're not gonna die," he agreed, though his eyes still flickered suspiciously at the gathered wolves. "Cas and I will protect you from anything, and none of these wolves wanna do you harm anyway. We're just gonna talk about some things, like who's in charge of who and the like."

He looked up at @Komodo, having determined him to be the most powerful force here, by way of eliminating women and deciding the man looked sort of like his father. "Right, Mister?"

Hope i'm not moving too fast... and, of course, anyone is welcome to interject/take control!

One by one, the call was answered. Wolves amassed together from the innards of the island; dripping and pulling out from the inland forests and green areas as had the storm’s fury many days ago. Their milieu was something broken, in the beautiful way that only nature could be broken, but the rhythms of the earth had slowly begun to resume; picked itself up by its shoe laces and restored order to things. The creatures that materialized on the shore were in great variety, from stocky to lithe, from known to unknown. First came a man, dark of fur and sullen in appearance; then the pale woman who was not Aria but enigmatic in her own right; a fae with a coat of fire; a second small woman who was very clearly on the verge of starving with a scared youth and a young man at her side, and then Aria — Aria! — and then, finally, the blue-hued woman. He knew them for nothing more than their appearances, and even that had been unknown to him more than a few second ago. Who were these wolves, brought together by the spirits and the gods? 

The Earthstalker was eager to know them.

The absence of Axolotl did not go unnoticed — but Komodo was not one to make assumptions. The man did seem preoccupied with marking borders and making sure their claim was know. The Earthstalker, a vagrant man who had never known a border in his life, was all too happy to let the leviathan take control of such pursuits. For this, he was somewhat appreciative of Axolotl — an emotion the brute may soon learn to be gravely misplaced. But for now, the mottled man turned his attention to the young thing that voiced concerns they have all entertained at one time or another during the aftermath of the storm. Would they perish here? Had they already perished? Was this island to be their holy sepulcher? 

"We will not die.” Komodo responded gruffly when the male addressed him, hoping to provide an auspice of hope to the girl. His throat felt dry —  not from dehydration, but from the  sudden pressure of many sets of eyes… all on him. What was to happen after the wolves answered his summons did not truly cross his mind, nor anyone else's mind, and their silent, imploring questions fell upon him. It was not unwelcome, as life upon the island was none to different than the lifestyle he had entertained for many years now. Survival, adaptability, resilience; it all came naturally to him, shaped from the impermanence of a wanderer, and he was more than happy to impart such guidance upon others… if they desired it. It’s what he had always been paid to do.

Komodo lifted his gaze, firebright eyes dancing and flashing in the summer sun, and looked at each of his cohorts in turn. Salmon tongue ran along the lines of his lips and he addressed the group. “We do not know one another, but we are all here for a reason.” It was a theory that wracked his mind constantly. There were no contingencies. They had all lived their own lives, completely disassociated from one another, for many years. If Komodo had even doubted the hand of god, this certainly reaffirmed it. One cannot avoid their own fate.

His roughhewn voice rose to be heard by all, sounding quite thick over the placid crashing of the waves. The serenity of the tide obscured and hid the cannonade of currents that lay just underneath. “Here we are all brothers.” Komodo thrust his gaze towards King and Dakarai. “Sisters.” He nodded towards each of the woman who had amassed. They were quite outnumbered. “If we are to thrive with each other, then we must know each other.” Komodo was only one man and though he considered himself quite skilled in the shamanic arts, there were many things he could not do. Like a patchwork quilt, they would all come together to create something beautiful. It was his vision and, he imagined, the vision of others. In times like these, those who were capable were of the utmost value — and that was something the earthstalker was not afraid to admit or recognize.

“If you are injured… this is the time to make it known. There is no weakness in seeking aid.” 

The stench of infection was prominent, but in this large gathering, the source was hard to place. An ailing wolf was of no use to them and it was better to convalesce while the pelagic seaweeds and other mineral-rich supplies were plentiful upon the beach. Such valuable, raw materials were not something he oft utilized and the opportunity excited him. To begin, he introduced himself. “I am Komodo,” a respectable dip of his maw was proffered. “a healer.” Then, with hips curled beneath him, the man sat back to observe who would assume the opportunity to speak first. Now was the time to observe.

crap post sorry

Soon after he arrived many more came to the beach, most were women but there were other men as well. His ears flicked to and fro as he waited for Carina to show up, but she didn't follow the others. People asked if they were to die here on this island, a good question but one quite morbid for Dakarai's tastes. The male who called for them finally spoke, and once he was looked at Dakarai dipped his head acknowledging the words spoken. The male introduced himself as Komodo, and stated he was a healer. Dakarai had no trade to call his own but he did know one he was working on "I am Dakarai. I have no trade but i am working on Mercenary" his gaze flicked from face to face.

idk if there's a posting order if so sorry! ignore me

Slowly, the small group that had first assembled when Maera had arrived had quickly upped its numbers, and soon, the flame found herself surrounded with more and more strangers. The only face she knew, Axolotl, was nowhere to be found, but still Maera's eyes scanned the crowd anxiously in hopes she had just not seen him earlier. She wondered then if she should've even attended to this call - if Axolotl, who she thought was commited to these wolves hadn't, then why did she, that didn't even know them. had to?

For a second, the thought of getting up and attempting a quiet escape crossed her mind, but she knew she wasn't exactly one to be able to blend with the scenery with ease. So she stayed where she was, her tail wrapped around her feet as she simply allowed her eyes to fall onto the male that had summoned them all. There were some murmurs from wolves behind her but Maera didn't turn her head to see them, or even her ears to listen to what they said.
She simply stared blankly at Komodo. 

When he spoke, Maera felt her ears perk up against her will, she listened to him carefully, her nose inevitably scrunching skeptically as he tried to convey that they were all, somehow, all family now. To Maera, her family, as absent as it was, was a unit that couldn't be broken into or modified with ease. She was a Sveijarn, and no one other than Jokull, Lárus and Valtýr were her sisters, brothers.
No one.  

The whole family thing aside, Komodo made then some valid ponts. If they were to thrive they had to be together, and for that they had to know one another.  As if to get the ball rolling, he introduced himself with his name and his vocation, and quickly after another of the wolves that had first arrived followed suit. Maera wondered if she should speak, but couldn't think of anything useful to say.
She was no medic, she was not anything that these other wolves couldn't be: a decent hunter, a warrior, and what.. a hoarder, collector of feathers and other useless shit?
Again, Maera felt herself adrift.

"I'm Maera Sveijarn - I was not here during the storm, but i came to help" she finally decided to say, her eyes flicking from Komodo, to the wolf that had just spoken, and then to the others. She didn't know how the others would feel about her being there, since she hadn't gone through what they had. If it were her who had just gone through tragedy and found someone foreign to that experience trying to get it, she doubted she'd be welcoming.
But that was just her - hopefully, these wolves were different.

Where others had banded together, Constantine had shadowed himself in to obscurity. He had watched a group aid a dark she-wolf who’s life had seemed to almost flicker and wane with the storm, and he had known another group existed somewhere, though he had not met up with them. Instead, the wraith had kept his eye on the others from a distance, gauging their intent, and often times wandering away to determine his whereabouts.
 
Death had not come for him in the tides of the ocean, and now he realized he was on an island. There was a way off though – depending on the time of day, but Constantine had yet to venture across the sandbar – what was there to return to?
 
So when the other called them together – a male he had watched with intrigue, the swarthy Mayfair responded in silence – but with his presence.
 
Others had gathered – none he knew, though his eyes flickered with nostalgia upon a white she-wolf. She was making her way to the one who had called them – but he knew it could not be her. And yet somehow – miraculously – she turned when she greeted the tawny male, and he could not doubt that it was Aria who stood within the group.
 
He felt his heart stop. Did he flee? He ached to go to her – she was even more beautiful now than he last remembered her. But where was Floki? And why was she here?
 
Before the urge to flee could quicken, he boldly loped forward, weaving his way between the others – his fiery eyes set only upon Aria. “Constantine Mayfair,” he introduced, his muzzle only dipping now to establish his respect to the one who called them here – and to the ghost he had once followed loyally, only to lose everything in return. "And if Aria remains, then so will I to serve."

Large-scale meetings were miles outside the tiny Groenendael’s present comfort zone; and although her nimble paws had been spurred into motion with eager alacrity by the Earthstalker’s sonorous cry, the presence of others — even those she knew and loved — brought her to a neat, immediate halt. She ensconced herself in a tangle of white ginger and sweet pea, hunkering down within earshot, tufted ears perched keenly atop her skull.

Unbeknownst to her, she and Maera wrinkled their noses simultaneously at Komodo’s notion that the wolves here were, by circumstance alone, made family. Though she understood the angakkuq’s meaning and could appreciate the sentiment, the little sheepdog was almost obsessively particular about where certain lines were drawn.

Coelacanth was Corten’s great-granddaughter, and although Ixchel and Axolotl also claimed the patronymic, she classed them as friends. It didn’t mean she loved them any less — it simply meant that they did not share blood, bone, and flesh with her. Aside from the tufted ears, Seelie was created in her domesticated mother’s likeness; and the cobalt tint to her atramentous fur and her brilliant cerulean eyes were traits she shared with the Seabird. Amoxtli, decidedly fluffier than his sleeker sibling as befitted the sexual dimorphism of the longhaired Belgian breeds, was all Corten in coloration, down to the fiery eyes; but he cast a silhouette more akin to his domesticated ancestors. They had identifiable, definable similarities that could be pointed to and quantified — they were family. Seelie could reach out to them without fear or rebuke — could “speak” to them and know that they would almost always understand — and she believed firmly that if she’d come to them even in her bedraggled state, they would have tamed and treasured her without question or demur.

Even Komodo, who could have been mistaken for one of Corten’s descendents by appearance alone, and who ticked all of the latter three boxes, was a friend to Coelacanth. A very beloved, infinitely trustworthy friend — but not her family. For the tiny wolfdog, such boundaries were necessary to keep all of her relationships special, individual, and unique.

It was love for him, King, and Cascada that drew her with a modicum of reluctance from her fragrant sanctuary. She moved with stuttering hesitation across the sand, shy as a spring fawn, and stopped when she was still just a blip on the outskirts of the group. Her stance showed her to be on high alert, feathered tail hanging still between her hocks and dainty head moving with quick, birdlike motions to focus on each face. She was more gamine and less skeletal now, though the scalloped gradient of her ribs and the crenellated bridge of her spine still pressed against the inky silk of her fur. Neptune eyes lingered the longest on those she’d developed a relationship with, but flickered toward whoever had the speaking floor at the time; her tufted ears were pricked and eager, flickering like hummingbird wings to catch each sound. Any unfamiliar advances toward her would be greeted with nimble-footed avoidance as she sought to maintain a specific amount of distance — but those who had earned her trust would perhaps be permitted nearer.

oh no!!! (sorry am having post format issues idk) 

komodo made no hostile advances to her-- and she was suddenly confused why she might think that. their previous interaction had been so... good. what a poor choice in words, but aria had no other description. instead he regarded her with composure and what aria could only label as power, as soon after he began to become the center of attention. his voice begged to be heard, calling to the wolves around them as they gathered. somewhere in her peripherals, she spotted a dark male. he looked like the one she'd dreamed of, but finding it to only be a coincidence she turned back to komodo and paid him no further attention, dropping her crab at her pale feet.

"i too am a healer," she said alongside him, giving his shoulder a gentle touch. someone else-- maera-- mentioned she was here to help. and a man named dakarai offered his skills as a mercenary-- a fighter. she felt safe beside komodo, who towered over her, but she also felt safer knowing more wolves here could fight-- protect. there were many of them, and if something were to happen she felt that-- without a doubt-- they would be safe.

she would stand beside komodo, as tall as her small frame would allow. she picked this spot herself, and if she could, she'd claim whatever respect she could gather.

but she did not introduce herself, and it came as a shock to her when, suddenly, the dark male was at her side. constantine mayfair, he said, firmly and with a respectful dip of her head. and then, her name fell from his lips, so casually. she stepped back, towards komodo. he pledged his allegiance to komodo, but more importantly, to her, and she found herself more confused than she had been in a while-- even with the current circumstances. she suddenly felt like she'd been pelted in the head with a rock, her gaze locked on the amber gaze of this constantine. he, she decided in a hazy certainty, was the man from her dreams. but how did he get there? how did he get here?

"i'm sorry... i'm afraid i don't quite remember you, uh, constantine," she said, her ears flattening to her head. her voice was low, a whisper, trying not to embarrass either of them. "are you from the green woods?" she then asked, hesitantly, offering a smile. her eyes darted to anyone else who arrived, trying to remember faces and reactions. komodo still seemed in charge, from what she could tell, and that's all she cared about. she trusted him, and him alone.

it had seemed a good question, and Cascada was quick to inform her that that was not the case. her gaze found the woman's quickly, finding comfort in them, though was about the protest that she, capable enough to not die in the storm, did not need protecting. but the words died on her lips, for there was a good feeling in knowing that someone - someones, were looking out for her, in this place. 

the male - Komodo - spoke, reassuring her that they would not die. all fine and good, but she still did not completely believe those gathered. the unfailing trust and reverence that young things regarded the words of their superiors with had long faded from her, and thus her trust in the adults was not blind. and yet, the words did not fail to ease the question that had been biting at the forefront of her mind. 

The male mentioned that those injured should come forward. She shifted, glanced at Cascada, and considered. But she did not move, only the flicking of her ears and the stiffness of her stance displaying the uncertainty. her ribs were not bleeding, not broken, and her wounds would heal and loose their infection with careful atention, she was quick to think. gaze returned to Komodo, to the others, as they began to introduce themselves. " Anatha" she thoughts, maw still. " Anatha. I'm-" She remained soundless. her words failed her, now, and introducing herself would mean digging into the scary haze of memories. not yet. not now.

Oh, how awkward, he thought, privately a bit interested in the strange situation concerning Aria an Constantine. Still, he'd been raised to uphold a certain sense of propriety, and so King felt it necessary to smooth over any discomfort that might arise from pursuing that conversation.

"I'm King," he introduced, deciding that it was his turn. "I mean - my name's King. I don't want to be king," he then clarified, ears flickering back in embarrassment. "And, uh, I'll do whatever."

He was trying very hard to deny his youth, and to be an adult and help the way he thought an adult ought to. But he didn't have many profitable skills, and he wasn't sure how best to help the wolves around him, other than his innate desire to hunt for Cascada and the two girls, and for Pookie, to boot.

He cast a begging glance toward the hybrid wolf. @Coelacanth was probably not much older than him, and he was certainly more mentally sound, but still - she was familiar, and though still skittish, far warmer toward him than Cascada.

There were many bodies present. Some she recognized from the beach plainly, others which took some investigation before she clued in to where she'd seen them; but they were all survivors. None which needed her at the moment save for the dark half-wolf, so to her flank she moved and lingered. One by one words were spoken; Parthenos found that the more she listened, the more familiar the words did sound. Why she would know this language perplexed her. But yes! The wolves began to introduce themselves (or so she had gleaned), and sometimes she would pick up a word here or there, and her mind would blossom with knowledge. Yet still, she could not speak the words; a few times during quiet moments she opened her mouth and expected the flowing syllables to fall from it like magic, but her tongue did not know how to make the shapes and her voice remained stagnant within her.

At the very least she could say her name - the name that had crashed through her mind when she'd woken on the island alone. Sounding it out in her head took a moment, but eventually (once the others had introduced themselves and continued conversation), she mustered a decidedly meek introduction of: Par-tenn-oaks, which might've been missed by bodies not immediately near.

When things are given over to the group as the wolf up front opens the platform, they all begin to introduce one another and exchange a few things back and forth. Her eyes first land on one of the women she’s never seen before (Maera). How had she gotten to the island with their only connection torn in two? And to help with what, exactly? Glancing around at the other wolves, she feels a weird settling feeling in her chest she doesn’t know what to do with. They’d all found one another somehow but the strangeness leaves her unsettled while she listens to the further exchanges between two more wolves, only one she recognizes from the beach.

Anatha seems unsettled near her and she leans back into her, nosing behind her ear for comfort. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” she assures, glancing up as the introductions come their way. King introduces himself first and she realizes she missed a few between when they spoke and the pressure settles on her. She does not speak of the injuries she has, or that of Anatha (until told otherwise), but she can at least oblige the introduction and brush off the spotlight for a little while. “I’m Cascada,” she breathes, the name still foreign on her own tongue.

no posting order, i believe!

The dark male assumed the next opportunity to speak — that was a character trait that appealed greatly to the angakkuq — and as each introduction continued in a deliberate succession, Komodo worked to commit each name to memory and take inventory of their skills. Each wolf who spoke [or didn’t speak] elicited another nod in turn; as Komodo was a somewhat of a feral thing, he was not without a buoyant sense of politesse. 

Dakarai, hunter. Maera, here to help. Constantine, here for — Aria?

An incredulous eye notched up at this upset, casting a glance down to the wisp of a wolf who pressed herself hotly against his sturdy shoulders and flank. Almost immediately Komodo felt the possessive flame, the one that always flickered low in his belly, flare hotly into his chest. Who was this boy who called himself Constantine, entering so boldly onto the scene? What right did he had to her? 

Aria was his.

Of course, Komodo immediately recognized these all to be wild assumptions — and thus, the brute was able to keep his entire demeanor unmoving, unperturbed and cool. There was a certain inkblot that amassed from the shadowed inland forest and that sight alone was able to keep his blood pressure stable, but as Aria divulged her unknowingness, the dapple man made his posture to stand a little taller, tail held a little higher, gaze slightly more heavy-handed. His cut sharply toward the two; he remained strong by the pale woman’s side, and perhaps that was the only telltale sign of Komodo’s discomfort with the man, Constantine. 

Komodo was all too thankful for the conversation to move on. King, Parthenos, Cascada…

There were several others others who forfeited their introductions, and Komodo made mental note of this. It was likely that their psyches would need tending to just as much as their bodies did. Perhaps he would host them for a ritual; the island needed to be cleansed after all, if they were to truly start anew. Plus, he needed a do-over; Komodo hadn’t forgotten how his previous ceremony had failed.

“Right,” the man rumbled as the introductions concluded. No other had deigned to assume responsibility of this meeting, so Komodo continued with distinction. “Welcome, family.” he greeted succinctly— not realizing the other’s discomfort with the terminology. Not caring. With a brief clear of the throat, he continued. “Are any y’all familiar with this place? ‘ny good places to find prey?” He wasn’t necessarily a fan of sea fare — he had always been a man who enjoyed the spoils of the forest and the slight bloodsport of it all — so this aspect of the island interested him greatly. But next on the list was…

“A nice place to hunker down, fer those of ‘yuh thinkin’ bout stayin?”

Komodo recognized that not all wolves might not want to stay, that not all the wolves felt the sense of divine providence that he and Axolotl and Coelacanth felt — but the ones that did, they needed a place to be. A place to make into their home. “There’s a stream inland,” The man suggested in his roughhewn tone, tossing his angular chin towards the freshwater source that the atlanian had deftly located. Again, his gaze made orbit around the enclave of wolves, both young and old. “I don’t doubt some’yuh have found it 'lready.”

Sorry for being rather late with a reply - been unexpectedly busy!

In turn, each of the gathered wolves spoke their name, and the pale she-wolf did not miss out. She looked up at the male, Komodo, and then glanced around at the others before speaking her name. "My name is Faeryn, and before coming here I was training to be a mercenary." Well, it could be of use, so why not say it? Others seemed to be stating their talents as well. Plus, she believed she had heard Dakarai say that he was also training to be a mercenary. Perhaps they could spar sometime?

The blue dove shook her head lightly as the supposed 'leader' of the group asked whether or not any of them were familiar with this place. She didn't know about the others, but she did not have much knowledge of this land - only what she had gathered during her brief time here. Then Komodo mentioned staying, and Faeryn just blinked for a moment. Stay? Should she? She had nowhere else to go... and she didn't have anyone. No family, no friends, not really. She had nothing to lose. Oh, why the hell not? She might as well stay.