Wheeling Gull Isle you've still got a little lightning in you

Two eyes blinked a dusky wolf into acid-bright existence; the world as lush and green around her, but the crash of the ocean was too-loud in her ears. Her eyes snapped shut, and she waited for Szymon to tell her it was all in her imagination, it was just the rush of blood beating like a wardrum in her ears.

But Szymon remained silent, as he tended to do, these days. Doe took a deep breath and looked around again. The Sea was nowhere in sight, and she was safe in the woods with her mate. Gathering her dignity about her, the woman plucked up her husband and set off through the trees, ears swiveling endlessly toward the sea-whoosh-boom noises that seemed to come at her from every direction. This worried her greatly, but with Szymon's support, she was able to pick her way through the forest with minimal distress.

This calm only lasted, of course, until she found herself on a pebbly stretch of beach, with the waves charging at her full-speed. She would've liked to run or scream or both, but terror-revulsion-anger kept her rooted firmly in place. A tiny, fearful growl escaped her mouth, muffled by the bleach-white jawbone still clutched tightly between her teeth.

The waters had calmed enough to allow passage once more between the mainland and the island, and much to Coelacanth’s dismay, the freedom this engendered led to quite a few missing faces. Cascada, the girl with sad green eyes and one of the first wolves to win the sheepdog’s trust after her bleak period of madness, was one of them — and so was King, the sweet, handsome male who had called her “Pookie” and tended so fiercely to Cascada and their young wards. Seelie erroneously believed that they’d left together, and that gave her some solace. Still, more than once, she’d considered returning to the mainland to try to find them and bring them home. Cascada’s disappearance confused her especially, for hadn’t Komodo suggested she help lead them? Perhaps she was in some kind of danger — and it was this fear that had urged the skittish creature to finally turn her considering into action.

Today would mark the first time in a long time that Seelie’s feathered heels touched down upon the soft sand of the mirror-like deltas she’d once loved — but there was no fond recollection in this reunion, just a keen terror-revulsion-aversion she felt immediately upon lifting her head and looking around. It shook her to the core, and she wished at once that she’d taken @Stockholm or @Komodo with her — but she hadn’t, and so she whipped immediately around and plunged back into the water to retrace her steps. It was her intention to nestle at his side — whatever him happened to find her first — but as she dragged herself ashore and shook the water from her pelt with a last final look at the faraway mainland —

Doe?

— she caught a scent that could not be real.

Certain that she had again become the bad dog born of her nightmares, Seelie began to scuttle frenetically along the shoreline without any real direction or purpose — and by the time she came upon the dusky, coyote-lithe figure in the distance she was sure she was imagining things. Still, she crept ever closer, worming on her belly. The silhouette grew in size and sharpened in definition, until she was close enough to see that the eyes were yellow —

Coelacanth’s tongue had never tasted the Atoll’s name, but the litany of airy, appealing whines that spilled from her anxiously smiling mouth was a song in itself. Was she real? The sheepdog thought she’d pressed herself against the length of that body and nibbled at the bulb of that flopped-over ear — but you couldn’t love an illusion and expect it to love you back.

A moment later, the woman's growl had faded to a submissive whimper. How could she fight against something so much bigger than herself? And like the waves that hurried toward the shore only to be pulled back against their will, Doe, too, found herself scuttling closer, rearing back as if she possessed the strength to tear herself away from the magentic pull of the Wickedness of the Sea.

It was a black blip that broke the tie between herself and the deep blue. Luminous eyes turned to take in the lithe figure that'd appeared just down the shore. Oftentimes, when Doe looked at other wolves, she found herself slipping through endless realities, staring into the different faces she'd known throughout the years. This was not so when she look at the creature in front of her; there had been many dark wolves in her life, but she had only one shadow.

One slight woman half-turned toward the other one, tongue forming a familiar name but teeth clenched too tightly to release the sounds. Her tail gave a frantic twitch behind her, but she lived in an economic body, unused to such frivolous gestures, and the movement quickly died. Doe simply stood there as they met, an uncertain murmur slipping past her teeth - one that not even Doe could call warning or welcoming. But after a beat, she tucked in her head, nuzzling the darker creature as well as she could. Szymon bumped against her Shadow's head, and she stopped - but a breathless sigh advertized her bittersweet relief. Something too soft to be joy burned low in her heart, and she felt her shoulders begin to relax without her permission.

Over Doe’s shoulder, Coelacanth’s Neptune eyes distractedly scanned the horizon. Where was the black-banded Leviathan who walked so doggedly in his odd-eared mate’s wake? Mindful of the warning in Doe’s wordless murmur — it might have been a susurrus overture of welcome, but the sheepdog’s guilt complex didn’t allow her to make such assumptions — she flattened her tufted ears against her delicate skull and wriggled appealingly. Unlike the wolf who stood still and stiff-limbed beside her — who nuzzled against her trustingly — who might still, still! be the cruelest of illusions — Seelie was a creature as fluid as the water she loved and her spine went noodly and serpentine in the dusky female’s presence.

It frightened the spry little wolfdog to make any advances or take any initiative in this situation. She felt as though any forward movement from her would send Doe spiraling away, back into the arms of the sea — or worse, into the immutable past. With her heart surging upward into her throat, Seelie craned her neck to preen softly at the fur that spiked in shades of russet and steel at the spindly wolf’s nape. She wished more than ever that Komodo had not left them, even if his return might bring lost sheep back to the fold — and she longed for Stockholm’s reassurance to keep her from unraveling and to affirm that Doe was truly real.

Once her shoulders relaxed, the tension that had been holding her body upright seemed to dissipate. Doe slumped against her Shadow, tail whisking tiredly as she struggled to keep her legs underneath her. A soft whine of appreciation squeezed out from between white bone and yellow teeth, and tiny pinpricks of heat began to grow at the corners of her eyes.

I missed you, she wanted to say, but she couldn't speak past Szymon. Even if she could, Doe didn't know if that would be appropriate. She didn't know how long she'd been here, or even where here was. Had months past? Had years? Time escaped her, these days.

She nosed helplessly at the wolfdog's nape, attempting to return the affection that she was being given so freely. Szymon got in the way, but she doggedly refused to release the comforting weight. She had a terrible fear that, if she put him down, she would lose him.

As if summoned by Coelacanth simply thinking about him, Stockholm steps out of the thick underbrush down shore from the pair. In all reality he was only patrolling the territory, further familiarizing himself with the landscape and tending to any scent markers that needed it.

His gaze catches on Seelie’s dark silhouette immediately, and his tightly cropped ears perk forward in curiosity. The tiny sheepdog has many friends that are still strangers to the Gampr, but this one is even moreso an unknown to him. This is someone he did not see at either of the meetings nor in passing on the island. Seelie’s body language clearly denotes this is a friend, someone who is no threat, but the guardian is inquisitive none the less and he changes course to approach the pair, large paws leaving deep indents in the wet sand.

As he gets closer he allows his tail to sway lazily back and forth against his hocks, lowering his head below the line of his back to convey that he is no threat.

The atramentous sheepdog, no stranger to her own handcrafted silence, found Doe’s absolute quiet to be utterly out of character. To Seelie, Doe was light and music — singing to herself or talking waterfalls — and the unnatural hush that blanketed their reunion enforced Coelacanth’s fear that the yellow-eyed, sweet-scented phantom was merely an illusion. Nevertheless, Seelie bathed her face and preened at her fur, all the while issuing a wheedling litany of hope and anxiety. This version of Doe, whether real or incorporeal, was full of hurt and fear and distress that her Shadow did not understand but longed ardently to fix.

When Stockholm stepped out of the brush, Seelie’s tufted ears popped like two quest marker exclamation points, gilded in the gold of the sun. Her ink-feathered tail began to wave as she nibbled warmly at the curve of Doe’s flopped over ear and whuffed softly — a greeting for Stockholm that lost itself in the thick, cream-colored fur she kissed so tenderly. Her cerulean eyes were eloquent in their welcome, however, as was the soft, airy whimper of worry that tangled upon her lips. Perhaps he would know the right thing to say or do. Doe had always had such great respect for her Leviathan, and Coelacanth believed — perhaps erroneously, and swayed by a hefty amount of bias — that Stockholm was taller, handsomer, and far kinder than the silver-banded Cairn had been.

Doe's eyes slid from her Shadow to the larger wolf that'd come behind her. This time, she did slide between memories in the rapid and familiar flip-flip-flip. But eventually, the lens shuttered and stopped, and the pale wolf remained a stranger to her. Still, the stranger seemed friendly enough, and appeared to look favorably on her Shadow.

With a murmured command, Doe slipped away from the sheepdog, placing herself between the Shadow and the Sea. Then, Doe became the shepherd, urging Coelacanth toward the looming figure of the male. He was a stranger, but no stranger was more dangerous than the sea.

As they drew closer, Doe's body seemed to become more and more compact, until - when she reached the larger animal - her body was contorted into the very picture of submission. Please protect me, said a thrifty wag of her tail. I am small and harmless.

Sorry for the delay, ladies, it's been a weird week <3

Stockholm was no stranger to silence and speaking through body language as opposed to words, so he found nothing strange in the quiet between Seelie and her companion, and offered no words as they approached. But he did pick up on something -- a deep, unsettled anxiety that seemed to roll off the two of them the same way the waves rolled and crashed upon the shoreline. It didn't take much to connect the dots, though he didn't fully understand the picture they made, but as Doe ushered Seelie closer and shrunk down yielding, Stockholm curved his body to place himself between the two women and the rush of the ocean, creating a physical and visual barrier, though there was nothing he could do to drown out the sound.

He bent his head, tail still lazily swaying back and forth, and leaned in to touch his nose to the unfamiliar female's shoulder -- gentle, featherlight, ready to back off the moment she might show any apprehension or unease -- catching her scent and offering a soft rumble from deep in his chest. It's alright, you're safe now.

Yellow eyes flick up towards Seelie and he chuffs softly, gesturing with the tilt of his head towards the trees. If he read things correctly, and it truly was the ocean, or this particular part of the shoreline that was causing the distress, they should head inland.

The atramentous sheepdog’s expression was quizzical — and more than a little anxious — when Doe slipped away from her; a whine of protest immediately fissured the silence as her Neptune eyes flew wide. Please don’t go away again! Please stay! Her worries were far from assuaged when Doe angled her body between Coelacanth and the sea, urging the Shadow closer and closer to Stockholm. It wasn’t that Seelie had any qualms about snuggling with the Gampr; he was, after all, hers. She just didn’t understand why Doe wanted her to do it, and her neurotic sheepdog’s mind forced her to stutter-step and look curiously over her shoulder at the flop-eared female to see if she could glean any knowledge from those yellow eyes.

She couldn’t.

Tufted ears fanned forward upon the tiny Groenendael’s finely-tapered skull as she watched Doe’s posture shift into a submissive slink. She, like Seelie, sought the larger animal’s protection — and, by extension, supported Stockholm’s ascension to leadership. It gave the atramentous female pause; she tilted her head to one side, then the other, looking at her Gampr in a new light. He could do it. His desires, like Seelie and Doe’s, were simple. He lacked the ritualistic relationship with the sea that had driven Doe’s leviathan to madness and that so commanded Axolotl — and for Coelacanth, that made him an ideal leader. He would be the shepherd — and Seelie? She’d simply be herself, protector of the protector, ever at his heel.

In a splendidly ironic display, Coelacanth was the first to break the silence: “Doe,” she whispered, the susurrus of her timbre barely audible — or perhaps inaudible — amongst the roll of the waves and the roil of Doe’s thoughts. “Stay,” she begged.

Doe could not squeeze words past the white bone held between her teeth. If she could, she was not sure what she would've said to the other wolf. Perhaps she would've expressed her surprise at the Shadow's sudden ability to speak, but Doe could not say for certain that she'd lacked the ability when she'd known her; there was much that was hidden from her, now. That reality seemed eons behind her, in a time where life had different rules. Maybe her Shadow had been able to speak all along.

The woman rejoined with a murmur of wordless gratitude; a sound made low in her throat, to be felt rather than heard. For a moment, yellow eyes flashed up to meet blue, and Doe tried to convey her fear and uncertainty, her confusion over what events had led her here. They've been taken from me, she wanted to say, but again, she could not know who it was that had been taken.

Filled with a certain sense of shame, Doe lowered her eyes, head, and ears - and allowed the Gampr to lead her away. There was still a sense of wretched loss and anxiety lancing through her heart, but it was soothed by the presence of a familiar face, and muted by the safety of being in another's shadow once more.

It has never occurred to Stockholm to fear the sea; even after the events that led him to the island, even after it took the Man from him and changed his life forever. The dogs in his homeland had no religion, no beliefs outside of acknowledgment of the forces of nature and the law of Men that ruled them. And in his years with the Man he learned many things, knowledge that he accepted as truth because it came from the Man. Maybe that was a religion, a belief system, after all. He wasn't sure. But he believed what he had been taught -- the ocean was simply a large body of water, it held no consciousness, no ability to think or to be vengeful or cruel. It simply was a thing.

Still, this did not cause him to dismiss or judge the discomfort expressed by his companions. He leads them inland, through the low hanging boughs of spruce and fir, into a small clearing filled with fireweed starting it's change from green to red with the change of season. He glances back at his two charges and flashes Seelie a reassuring smile before seeking out the cache he knew was tucked away amidst the grasses, coming up with decent sized rabbit that had been buried there and gives it a good shake to dislodge as much dirt from it as possible before trotting back to Doe and Seelie. He lays the rabbit at Doe's feet in offering with a slow wag of his tail before sinking to his haunches and regarding the two for a moment, his gaze lingering in curiosity on the jawbone Doe holds in her mouth.

"Is your name Doe?" He tilts his head, hoping he heard Seelie correctly. "You are a friend of my Seelie, so you are a friend of mine. You are welcome to stay here with us."

Tagging you both because I have not posted in like fifty years. ♥

Seelie drew a deep breath, released it on an answering whine that eked out from betwixt her trembling teeth in an airy undulation — an echo of the fears that @Doe seemed unable to give voice to. The atramentous sheepdog was thankful for @Stockholm’s reassurance, and even more thankful for his possessive manner of speaking. He had said, “my Seelie” — he had claimed her, and she him, and this time (conveniently, she had forgotten about all the other “this time”s that had ended up with her alone on an island, whether literal or figurative) she would keep and be kept. There was no jealousy in her as she blithely agreed with the Gampr: “Your Doe,” she whispered to Stockholm, “my Doe.” And to the odd-eared siren of Tara, “Your Stockholm. Your Shadow.” So quickly, so easily, she knit them all together.

Right now, she could never believe that the world world change.

Right now, things would never be different.

Doe's eyes were comically wide. She hardly knew who this woman was, but she knew her, and knew that she was a shadow, and that shadows didn't talk. The world seemed to shudder for a moment, but the sensation soon passed, and Doe was standing once again between dark fur and light. Between two wolfdogs - beings, not shadow and light.

The meaning of her words took a little longer to settle in. An uncertain whine hummed past the bone. I'm not sure about this, she seemed to be saying, but there was little she could do in the face of their combined power. Doe did not remember a time when she'd held herself above the little wolfdog, and when she looked up at her long, black face, she could not even comprehend the possibility.

Doe's shoulders fell in uneasy but grateful submission.

Okay.