Cerulean Cape wave-wracked and wanton

The quartet left Wheeling Gull Isle, but they never truly parted with the coast. A few more raucous nights had been spent upon the beach, with the siblings all making promises about an upcoming lunar event — a hunters moon — though Komodo often escaped inland to experience the soil beneath his paws and drink in the arboreal sweetness of the forest air. The Corten siblings ancestor’s must have been fish, the earthstalker figured, for he had never seen such a people so aligned with the waters. Their divine connection with the seas made him experience a twinge of jealousy, actually — and that was not an emotion he felt often. Though he was an anointed shaman,, somehow the mysteries of the ocean and its tides had always evaded him; they refused to talk to him. It had never been more clear than that fateful night, when the sea birthed a pack right there, upon its shores, with no instructions or holy guidance. 

He might never understand the sea god’s true intentions, but damn it, he was going to try.

As the troubadours paraded down the coastline, Komodo broke apart from the group and breeched the treeline in order to make a quick hunt. If what the Cortens said was true, tonight was to be a true bacchanal and the earthstalker knew better than to show up to a party empty-handed! Fortune shined upon the man and soon found a raccoon lumbering about, blissfully unaware of the occasion — Komodo slaughtered the animal quickly, grabbed the carcass in his mouth and carried it high as he made to rejoin the group.

When the brute was once again within the sea’s grasp, Komodo saw that there were not three wolves communing in the shimmering essence of the night — but many! Komodo cut his firebright gaze against the darkness and tried to recognize these souls; maybe they held clues to the apparent dissolution of Undersea. The brute sauntered closer, his movements closer to that of a jaguar than a wolf, he realized that… no, he did not know these wolves. It was no matter, of course, as Komodo tended to feel more comfortable within the unknown anyways. He found it easy to make friends of strangers and did relatively well in social settings — in fact, he had fashioned an entire career from these two things. and it had kept himself hale up until this point, hadn’t it? 

— then, for a moment, Komodo halted and stood blindingly at the familiar, inky form leap and bounding amongst the wave. Sacrificial raccoon deposited on the beach and all but forgotten, the angakkuq strode close and clicked him tongue against the roof of his mouth in a manner reminiscent of their first reunion. “Oh my, my, my” he purred, extremely pleased. The Corten siblings had been right! Komodo himself had pessimistic tendencies, and never fully believed Sirimiri or Serein when they seemed so assured of Coelacanth’s good fortune. But now he could feel the moon’s energy beat strongly against his roan pelt, propelling his words and movements. Komodo flashed a smile at the others that were gathered, but their introductions would have to be delayed. There was a reconciliation to be had! 

“Look ah’ what we gat here. Y'still kickin’, moonbeam?”