Wheeling Gull Isle i don't need another friend, i already have two
Joining  May 16, 2018, 02:17 PM
Isengrim
Lone Wolves

plz allow @Coelacanth to reply first! <3 idk how the landbridge works so i hope this is ok but lemme know if this needs editing :)
 
Somehow, he had ended up right back where he started. Face in the sand before an endless body of water with no idea what he was doing with his life. He had no talents, no occupation or hobbies - through experience he had learned he could not even commit to being a slave properly. Isengrim believed in no god, held no guiding morals, and knew little to nothing about the world that surrounded him. Even the bay was now a stranger to him. Julep was likely dead. His parents were too, probably dead. Moorhen had simply vanished and the pirate-esque man they had met who somehow shared a fraction of the same blood as them had seemed far too intense (a trait that reminded him un-fondly of Heda) for the scab to follow up with - he had no interest in being anyone’s bitch again. He would be his own bitch, if that was what his life had truly come to.

Moments of existential reflection turned into hours as he lounged aimlessly on the beach, being pecked over by the occasional scavenging bird as morning transitioned into dusk. What did one do when one had no purpose? Where did one turn when there was nothing left to turn to? He contemplated chucking himself off a high cliff in a similar fashion as he had been shoved into the murky waters as a child, except, in this version, he would not be gasping to the surface in a will to survive. It would have been a simple solution, if he were not such a coward. 

But fate was not done with him yet - as he cracked an eye open to shoo away yet another seagull who mistook him for one of the dead - something he had not quite noticed before was situated right before his eyes. A lone island sat in the distance, accessible only by the fine strip of sand hovering and parting the water like some biblical phenomenon. This was new. Slightly bewildered, he looked around, wondering if anyone else could see this. It sure appeared so, and picking himself up and placing tentative steps forward onto the steady ground, the sandbar seemed to be either a very strong an strange hallucination in which case he was about to drown, or a sign that life wasn't exactly done with him yet. 

Padding silently down the isle, it was clear by scent alone that wolves inhabited the island that sat so far out from the rest of known wolf-civilization, and he instantly wondered why kind of wolf would submit themselves to such isolation. For protection? Perhaps it was some sort of leper colony? Or a cannibalistic tribe of neo-isolationists? Maybe getting stuck on an island with some people he didn't know wasn't the best of ideas, but it wasn't like he had anything else going for him. In fact, this was the most interesting thing that had occurred in his life in the last 3 months - he wasn't about to start being picky now. Coming to a stop a decent ways away from the island itself, he let out a rather lame bark for attention, quite unsure what he was looking for and why he was there.

the barracuda
May 18, 2018, 10:24 AM
Coelacanth
Undersea
Aralez
My son!

        The urchin who scuttled across the drawbridge to Coelacanth’s citadel was not, at first glance, a particularly impressive specimen. She lifted her fox-fine muzzle from her delicate paws and watched him as he drew near, emerging only when he stopped several meters away from the island and barked. His voice was curiously flat to her keen ears, and she imagined if she hadn’t been there to watch the splitting of his muzzle, the crack of sound might have resembled a choked cry for aid. This was, of course, projection on Seelie’s part — she was forever looking for orphans and strays to tend, and this inclination had become increasingly prominent since the Hunter’s Moon. She couldn’t have known that her maternal urges were also intensified due to the pupcakes slowly simmering away in her Easy Bake Oven, for she wasn’t showing and her scent had not yet changed.

        As she drew nearer, she found there was something familiar about the male’s pewter-and-ash palette — but Isengrim and Julep had been puppies the last time she’d seen them, and she had long since written off her inability to provide for Doe and Szymon’s children as her second-greatest failure. The greatest failure, of course, was being unable to keep Doe safe. Doe, come back.

Oh, Poppy!

        Remembering the Border Collie made Coelacanth all the more determined to make this interaction a good one for the sorrowful looking spectre. She trotted forward without hesitation, stopping when she stood about a meter away from the strange wolf — and when she met his gaze, something in her heart twisted painfully and then stilled. She knew that shade of yellow — not Aditya’s burnished firelight, and not Stockholm’s molten citrine; not Niamh’s warm honey, and not Driftwood’s glittering tawny. It was a tincture that could only be referred to as yellow. Yellow like the lonely moon or the sour peel of a lemon. Yellow like Szymon, and yellow like Doe.

        Cocking her head this way and that like a curious bird, her oversized ears piqued alertly atop her crown, she peered at the wolf, and still the eerie glint of his gaze did not reveal himself to her — it just looked familiar. It just resembled the ghosts of her past. Neptune eyes danced over his skeletal, wraithlike frame with gentle worry, and she whuffed at him softly in inquiry.

        How could she help him? What did he seek?

May 18, 2018, 08:36 PM
Reigi
Undersea
Tauhou

She had been awake with the coming of the sun, observing in silence as the dark of night faded into the serene muted shades of morning.  Tucked to her breast were three of her children; @Mur, @Fern, and @Yakone slept peacefully together.  Introducing the sheepdog's children to her own had gone smoothly, and for that she was glad.
She often left the children alone, unlike she had with Nunataq and Marten — she did not fear any harm befalling her babies here; there were no Indras or Laurels to cause them harm.  The excursions were brief, allowing the mother to stretch her legs and maybe mark where she could.

Her first excursion was beneath the morning light, and with everything as it should be she curled back up with the suckling babes until Isengrim's cry reached her ears a few hours later.  She smoothed her tongue over each of the children as she always did when she left, and she clipped across the island with her head low.

She first regarded the stranger from a distance, a foreboding reaper not-quite-hiding on the horizon.  But if something happened

Coelacanth's 'Io drew forward, brushing against her side like the good guard dog she was before circling around, resting somewhere just behind the sheepdog.


18/10