Cerulean Cape where the moon is made of gold

Takes place directly following this post. For @Screech ♥

The tiny Groenendael’s tufted ears perked with concern as the roughhewn, ill-used lamb strayed from the flock. Perhaps he thought himself exempt from her obsessive-compulsive headcounting, but he was mistaken! She trailed after him with a timorous air, pert ears tipped forward upon her velveteen crown and nose quivering like a nervous rabbit’s. In her mouth was a sizeable chunk of the sea lion’s flesh — she’d been right in the middle of excising a portion for herself and Stockholm, but she would gladly give it to the boy if it lured him into staying. Dipping her muzzle, she sniffed at the prints he’d left behind. He was younger than her, but she was smaller, which was fairly typical; and he smelled uneasy, a feeling of jittery anxiousness that melted into her own mood with an empathic, involuntary seamlessness. She did not fear him — not much —

— still, she moved forward cautiously, and with a great deal of trepidation.

His back was to her as she crested a sand dune, and she made herself small as she beckoned his attention with a tremulous boof! that was punctuated by a shy, wheedling ellipsis of a whine. If he deigned to turn and look upon her, he would see that her finely-crafted head was tilted in a silent inquiry, her luminous Neptune eyes filled with the hopeful entreat of a dog whose owner is about to leave for a solo trip to the supermarket: “Are you really leaving? Do you really have to?” Once she’d caught his attention, she crept forward on her belly with her feathered tail sketching a pattern in the sand like a lie detector test needle on the fritz. Then, still hopefully, she placed her offering on the ground and hopped like a bunny away from it to encourage him to take it.

Screech had parked himself a good distance away but it didn't stop him from being able to listen in to the many voices. The sounds were dimmer but not gone entirely; he still wished to linger near the positive vibes of the family even if he ached for his own. He was, however, internalizing to the point that he was oblivious to the slinking hybrid. It wasn't until she called out that his ears twitched, and he shot a look over his shoulder at her silhouette.

His first thought was one of fear. In all his previous dealings with wolves dressed in black, few had been positive. He was apprehensive even as she bestowed a gift upon him. As she slunk closer he watched, his single eye narrowing with unfounded suspicion, and took in the sight of the hunk of seal meat. His gaze lingered on it for a long minute before he got to his feet and drifted closer. He sniffed at it, probed it with his nose, but didn't take it yet.

The boy looked at the nimble girl again and this time, his fears seemed to ebb. He recognized her as the dancer. The one who had entranced him with her magical movements and made him forget, briefly, all of his worries. Why was she bringing him food? He had done nothing to deserve it by the standards of her family - he sang no songs, told no tales, but she was persistent and kind. Screech wasn't used to this and he didn't know what to do about it; his expression softened and he crooned a small whine at her, as if to ask, 'For me? Are you sure?'

Coelacanth did not perceive herself as particularly fearsome, so her kneejerk reaction to his kneejerk reaction was to whip around, looking furtively over her shoulder for some lurking terror. Seeing nothing amiss, she turned back toward the full-blooded wolf with a questioning tilt of her head. He sniffed at the meat and prodded it with his nose, and she mistook his suspicion for simple unfamiliarity. Perhaps he had never had sea lion meat before! That was a shame.

“Try it!” she urged him inwardly, unthinkingly sweeping her muzzle in a forward motion as though by doing so, she could will the food into his mouth. When his bright citrine eye met hers, tangling with cerulean and catching hold, she nodded vigorously and repeated the gesture. An encouraging whuff! plumed from her lips like a miniature mushroom cloud. He was so thin and appeared so poorly treated and skittish; she saw in him the memory of herself after her imprisonment at Blackfeather Woods. Dirty and ruined and afraid. Long lashes swept her cheeks as she broke eye contact with an upwelling of residual shame. She worried that he had seen more than she’d meant to share; she was a guileless creature with no talent for hiding her emotions.

Returning her gaze to his after a moment of reflexive self-criticism, Coelacanth allowed her tail to resume its eager fluttering and stretched out on her side with one paw outstretched in what she hoped was an endearing pose. “Please eat,” the whispered whine danced airily from her lips.

He thought he saw something in her face for a split second. Something that was there one moment, gone the next. Like the flicker of a shooting star. He wasn't sure, and let it slide.

She did not speak which he would have found odd had he not witnessed her earlier dance. The girl could communicate well enough with her body and he did not think too hard about it. Screech was still skeptical — he trusted just enough to grab the meat with his teeth and give it a tug, only to release it when the sand shifted beneath the shape and it rolled awkwardly towards him.

The boy was not nimble. He hopped back a step and was soon straddling the gift betwixt his forelimbs, his ears fanning either side of his head in an awkward display. Upon glancing at her, she had become a black shape upon the sand. He saw the glimmering of her eyes - like the sea that churned just out of reach - and he held her gaze for a bit too long to be considered polite by wolf terms.

She was just so... Different. So abstract from everything he had experienced; so delicate looking but so powerful with every movement, saying so much without a word. In some ways Coelacanth was a comfort because Screech did not feel like he had to talk at all. She was kind, and she was present, without asking questions.

He turned his attention upon the meat and tore in to it, finding the exterior hide to be rubbery and tough but the meat beneath those initial layers to be fatty and sweet. Screech made swift work of a smaller chunk that he'd cleaved from the rest, and paused once it had been devoured to look at her again. Somewhat sheepishly he murmured, um, thank-you.

Politeness was relative, and although Screech held her gaze long enough for her cheeks to heat and her lashes to bat demurely, Seelie didn’t take offense. She was delighted when he began to eat but refrained from leaping to all fours and doing a celebratory dance — barely.

While Screech sampled the succulent meat, Coelacanth remained still; she was afraid that sudden movement might scare him off, and she enjoyed the sound of him eating as much as she liked the sight of it. She hadn’t noticed what he perceived to be awkwardness. In her eyes, he was dashing and handsome! He was badly wounded, but her only qualm about that was that she wanted to fuss over him and was pretty sure he wouldn’t let her. Very suddenly, she was reminded of Cascada — Seelie wasn’t sure what had become of the gentle, green-eyed girl, but she liked to believe that Cascada had taken Calypso, Anatha, and King and made a happy life with them.

He looked at her again! Coelacanth dipped her muzzle shyly, trying to fold her tufted ears over her eyes with both paws as though to say, “I wasn’t staring! I promise!” [She was.] Lifting one paw to regard the bright-eyed fledgling with a playful air, she greeted his murmured “thank you” with typical enthusiasm. Perhaps because she couldn’t do it herself, she loved to be talked to — and she spun one quick circle before doing a happy dog tap-dance. Feathered ears cupped toward him like flowers reaching for the sun as she tried to find her words — but as she so often did these days, she came up short. Instead, she tilted her head first to one side, inquisitive and appeasing.

Her reaction was layered and he was surprised by the animism of her body. Just as he'd suspected, she did not speak. If it was by choice then it was an odd one, but he appreciated the silence all the same - if not (and he was coming to the conclusion she could not speak, not that she did not wish to) he hardly pitied her. His own voice had never brought him goodness, only harm. Perhaps she was safer with her blanket of silence.

A thin smile crept across his face but there was no emotion. He felt cold. An absence. The weight Screech had felt during the storytelling session had not lifted. Forgetting about the meal for the time being, he crept towards the happy figure of the dancer and then, mimicking her, spread out on his belly and shyly reached his limbs out for her. Screech didn't touch her but he came close, and then rested his chin on his forelimbs.

A moment later, as he sighed deeply to himself, he murmured more words.

Your family is... Nice. That was an understatement; they had welcomed him on a whim and he had been swept up by their charm. He didn't know what to say about their kindness and the best he could do was let a weak compliment slip. Maybe he wanted to say more — his mind was focused on the Caldera after all, and the family he felt he lost — but he was still not ready.

I liked your dance, he said next, and found he could not look at her afterwards, becoming oddly bashful.

Oh!

Owing to the boy’s skittish nature, Coelacanth had not expected Screech to make any overtures of friendliness toward her — not that she minded! Quite the opposite, she welcomed him! She sat up on her haunches and spread her forelegs wide, then dropped bonelessly to her belly with a soft whuff — and when Screech outstretched his forelimbs to pillow his chin she just barely contained the urge to rush over and curl up beside him. Admittedly, her hips wriggled like an overstimulated feline about to pounce, but she reined in her enthusiasm as he sighed deeply and then began to speak. As before, her tufted ears canted forward upon her gently sloping skull as if what he had to say was the most interesting thing she could possibly have been listening to.

Right now, it most definitely was.

“Your family is…nice.”

The way to Seelie’s heart was through her ears the wolves dearest to it, and although Screech could not have known this, his compliment was one of the nicest she had been given. Up until now, none of the wolves from the Teekons had been given the opportunity to interact with the Cortens on such a large scale. Her heart was filled with their love — filled with the knowledge that Aditya, Grayday, Sunny, and Dawn were now part of it — and although she had only just met the silver-furred boy, she, the empress of “love first, ask questions later,” loved him, too. Neptune eyes went soft and warm, and she was so overwhelmed by his kindness that she did not look away even when he complimented her directly — something that would normally have sent her recoiling in an overwhelming mixture of, “No! I cannot possibly deserve this!” and, “Thank you! I worked so hard!”

The color of his eye was like her father’s — like her uncles’ and aunts’ and cousins’ — but he turned away from her, depriving her of it. It was cold and flat, and his smile was oddly empty of warmth or emotion, but she believed with a dog’s foolish hope that these things were there — she just had to work harder to bring them to the surface. Shimmying closer, she outstretched her nose — at this distance, he could savage her if he wished, but she trusted him not to — and allowed it to brush against his paw. A soft, airy whine passed from her lips, moved the velveteen fur atop his paw.

Had she done something wrong, to make him turn from her this way?

Screech saw the glee work its way through her and it made him feel surprisingly warm inside. Every inch of the girl reacted to his voice and it gave him a sense of power, almost, which was oddly gratifying. They were strangers to one another and yet his opinion seemed to have an affect upon her. When she moved he barely noticed; the sensation of her breath on his toes was so subtle and he heard her thin whine reach out to him in the dark, met her gaze with his and saw the worry there.

Screech didn't know what to say. Suddenly her silence was overbearing. He could bask in it but in the end, her attention was focused on him and he did not want to disappoint her. Maybe disappoint was the wrong thing — he couldn't put much thought behind how he felt right now, mostly because he was a mess of so many things all at once. He took a breath and held it, then slowly exhaled, creating a small cloud.

I have a family too, and almost as soon as he mentioned them, brought them to life by admitting they existed aloud, the fire in his eye was dimmed by a fresh sheen. Maybe she wouldn't notice in the dark - he wasn't thinking now, though, and hoped his voice would calm her; ironically it was Screech who needed to be calmed. I haven't seen them in a long time. I don't know if... They're okay, or... his voice hitched, he cleared it like it was nothing.

I... 'I wish things were different,' he wanted to say, but couldn't. 'I wish they didn't hate me. I wish they would forgive me. I wish --' but no matter what Screech wished to have happen, the dark girl's magic was not strong enough to help him. He took another breath and managed a rumbling, I miss them. Idly he adjusted his forelimbs for better comfort and brushed against her, but didn't notice.

I keep writing “eyes” like an idjit! Let me know if this pp is not okay ~

“I have a family, too,” the young wolf told her, and she was watching him so closely and focused so intently upon his eye in particular that it was impossible to miss the sheen that blurred its sharp intensity. Her heart ached for the tangle of emotions that crashed down upon his thin shoulders and she inched nearer to him, no longer able to keep herself from offering the comfort of her touch. Of course, he missed his true family! Coelacanth understood that more than most.

Poor lamb!

Over time, she’d come to accept and understand that Julep and Isengrim’s aggression toward her had not been a personal attack but a longing for Doe and Szymon so sharp they were forced to whet their knives upon her. She was grateful that Screech didn’t follow suit — and when he brushed against her, she mistook the unintentional gesture for permission to return the favor.

Tentatively, she reached out with one catlike forepaw, her aim to drape it at a diagonal across his — but her movements were timorous and that first fateful connection tenuous at best. Watching his face for the faintest sign that he was repulsed or inconvenienced by her nearness, she made to draw away — but a strange and uncharacteristic boldness settled over her and took hold. A low purring sound ticked in her throat, rhythmic and soothing; it was the only way she could hum to the lonely boy. A sympathetic whine rose briefly to override it as she entreatingly extended her other foreleg. Her movements were hesitant and shy, her end goal to lay nearly parallel to the one-eyed wolf, with her forelimbs crossed companionably across his, that the fur of their shoulders — one sterling, one obsidian — might tangle together. “I am sorry,” bespoke her shimmering eyes.

There was a sound beyond Coelacanth that made his ears twitch, but he didn't move to glance over her head for any reason. It was probably just something happening at the party - some story, or a song maybe - and he was too busy dwelling on all the things he'd lost in the past few months anyways. In that moment the dark girl had shifted closer; he felt the delicate nature of her body next to his own, the warmth that spread between them, and adjusted so that his chin was on her leg, which itself was criss-crossing his forelimbs.

Screech wasn't a cuddly individual (or he hadn't the chance to experiment with such a thing as cuddling; the event with Sorina notwithstanding), but he found her proximity to be a comfort. He had no more words — speaking anything at this point would just lead him to a crackling voice and the spilling of emotions, and of all the things Screech considered himself to be, he thought he was too much of a man now to start blubbering like a fool. He had it backwards; Screech had, and always would be, a fool first.

At the very least he wasn't lonely right now. He had this exotic stranger lending him an ear, showing him kindness. In the end he couldn't hold off the weight of it all. The ocean was crashing around them and sheltered whatever noises he might make and this kept him separate from the party just up the beach, and while he felt absolutely in control of himself, Screech felt a wetness to his face that hadn't been there before - and as the flood gates opened, he burrowed his nose against the fur of the girl, and began to sob.

Coelacanth curved her tiny frame impossibly, craving the close communion of their bodies; and when Screech turned, burying his nose into the silken fur of her collarbone to sob openly, she froze. With infinite gentleness, she began to groom him, wherever and whatever she could reach. The nape of his neck was easiest. Her teeth combed gently through the thick fur there, and her tongue smoothed the meticulously delved furrows left behind. Her throat was thick with empathy for him! — and her bright cerulean eyes were made brighter by a misting of shared sorrow. “Humming” to him softly, she continued to groom him unhurriedly. Like the sea, she sheltered him, the swanlike curve of her neck shielding his face from view and her feathery décolletage catching his tears.

“Shh,” was a sound even her ruined throat could make, and she dispersed wavering waves of it throughout her rhythmic purring. “Shh.” She rested her chin atop his head with a soft sigh.

It took some time for him to calm down, but with her cooing and fussing, he eventually did. The boy sniffled in to her fur and his breathing was ragged, but the spell did not last long. He felt weak and pathetic and yet he did not resist when Coelacanth held him. He knew to feel a bit embarrassed and even a little guilty for having put her in this awkward position, but she only showed him kindness.

Her crooning voice and hushed, whisper-thin attempts to sooth him did just that. Soon enough Screech was drifting in that space between sleep and wakefulness, feeling utterly exhausted by his sorrow. Emptied out by it. 

More noise from the party — laughter, it sounded like — but he wasn't moved by it. Screech knew he couldn't party the night away with these people, even if they were so welcoming of him. This was not his family. He could not substitute one for the other and expect to feel any better in the long run.

For now, this was enough. Just this.

The tingling numbness in her forelegs notwithstanding, Coelacanth was deeply moved by Screech’s faith in her and found something deeply, instinctually satisfying about the way he nestled against her. His ragged breathing began to even out, and she was very careful not to move a muscle lest he wake and feel ashamed or afraid. Tufted ears twisted like blossoms in a spring breeze to tune in to Serein’s story — a new one, but too scary-sounding for the Groenendael’s taste. She returned her attention to the young wolf whose tears dampened her breast, continuing to purr like a contented kitten. Whatever he needed of her, she would do her best to provide!

Some time passed before he felt the need to rise, and even then Screech was resistant to the idea of pulling away from the warmth and security that Coelacanth offered him. But the party continued, the voices rising with all kinds of tales that he could only sort-of hear; and Screech felt a strong sense of guilt too, for distracting the petite wolf from her family. She should be with them, not here with him in an awkward little embrace.

Screech sniffled as he withdrew, unlocking the scissored positioning of his forelimbs from her own and then, rubbing his nose and his glassy golden eye on his wrist, he murmured a quiet suggestion to her - You should be there, with them, not that he didn't appreciate the support she offered him. He was a stranger though. A fool, haunted by too many ghosts already. I'm okay. I.. I promise, but he didn't look it. Even as he tried to smile down at her, going so far as to boop his nose against her cheek - really, everything is okay now.

With her chin resting gently atop Screech’s head, Coelacanth allowed herself to drift into the contented haze that separated slumber from awareness; her Neptune eyes closed and her rhythmic purring grew softer and slower. The passage of time was lost to her until the young wolf sniffled and began to withdraw, wiping his nose and eye against his wrist to clear them of any vestiges of grief. Tufted ears fanned forward to catch his suggestion even as her slim jaws parted in a wide yawn, and she tilted her head at him curiously with a shy smile shaping her lips. “But we are with them,” she thought, her feathered tail waving slowly. As he made to withdrew from her — emotionally, she felt, more than physically — she shook her head in mute protest. Wouldn’t he like to stay with her? She would feed him and take care of him until he was well enough to find his own family —

— oh.

She was doing it again — the thing she’d done with Julep, Isengrim, and Moorhen.

Bad dog.

Coelacanth’s acknowledgement of one of her greatest flaws — to cling too tightly, perhaps, and to attach too much meaning to, well, everything — warred with a burgeoning desire she didn’t quite understand. It was probably her closeness to Catori that made her miss her wayward flock so much and cling so tightly to this poorly treated lamb. She didn’t think he’d eaten enough but she didn’t want to keep him against his will. The tiny Groenendael settled on a middle ground; she offered him a soft whisper of a whine, muzzle tilting toward the muted voices. Do you want to come back with me? Her shimmering seablue eyes said she hoped he did, and she leaned forward to nibble at his cheek with unabashed affection — though if he made to draw away, she would not press him.

He didn't expect to feel so strongly attached to this dark girl, but to be honest he seemed to have a type. This particular shadow was much kinder than the rest; she reminded him strongly of his mother and perhaps that is why he was loathe to leave her - and the look upon her dainty face as he pulled away, that unspoken question, tugged at his already fragile heart. But it was for the best.

Screech's touch was returned in the form of a nibble, and he leaned in to the touch for a bit too long. She was so warm, so inviting and kind - but he knew deep down that he did not deserve her. The girl was a temptation that he could not fall for; he had a family already, even if they were far away. He would find them again. As much as the foolish boy wished to go with her and join with the Cortens - maybe beyond the party - he knew he could not do this.

So he pressed his nose against her cheek and then, pulling away, returned to where the seal meat had been discarded. It was half frozen in the snow now, edible but stony. Screech inspected it merely so that he didn't have to look at Coelacanth, and then grasped a chunk that looked stable enough for transport, and hoisted it up.

The only farewell he gave her was a final glance. A turn of his head so that the gold of his eye could shine through the falling snow; then, sadly, he turned and departed for an inland path.

---

Coelacanth’s tufted ears folded reluctantly but resolutely, two carefully printed confessions hidden beneath the press of shut-tight fingertips; it was for the best. The wolves in her family did not fetter its members so tightly — [but she was her mother’s daughter!] — and she must learn to do the same. Carefully, for her legs were still half-asleep and tingling uncomfortably, she pushed herself into a seated position and tucked her tail around her numb forepaws to watch him go.

She did not even know his name.

She was still sitting demurely when he turned his brilliant eye upon her, and her ink-feathered tail whisked the ground genially, bespeaking her wish that he be well and safe — she summoned a smile for him that he might remember her with joy instead of sorrow, wishing she had been less maudlin the day she’d been denounced by Doe’s children — but something twisted painfully inside her. Involuntarily, her finespun musculature twitched forward as he turned from her and departed, but she remembered the implicit command in that final glance — stay — and set down the paw she didn’t realized she’d lifted, only to turn in the opposite direction where her family waited.