A promotion. Spyridon was elated, ever-happy to be such a help to The Nereides and their cause. With this, he knew, came more responsibility. The consorts and spawn were now under his command, and he would be expected to keep them in line. It meant making sure that no more bad seeds leaked into the sound. And for those that did, Spyro would ensure that they were quickly taught their place. He was not a violent beast, preferring non-confrontational situations to violent ones, but he could be strong if he needed to. In fact, Spyridon could be whatever The Nereides needed him to be. It was his duty, his life.
He strode along the coastline, but stopped in a tidepool. The water was cold, freezing, even, as the winter temperatures had finally settled in. He stood ankle-deep in the salted water, staring out to sea as the waves crashed onto the sandy coast. The bruise on his back had not fully healed, and the fight with Nishu and the outsider had aggravated it, but he could ignore the pain. He had to be strong. Closing his sea-green eyes, he thanked the mothers and sisters of the sea.
The altercation that had taken place on the cliffs had, in no way, been a success. Eos had left the scene with bristled fur and a sharp glint in her sea-colored eyes that suggested she was not pleased with how things had ended. After having collected her head, the ocean wolf had calmed herself to a state of mere irritation. While they had not succeeded in maintaining the grey-furred male who had caused the trouble, none of them had been severely injured. They had also managed to rid the stray female from their lands without too much trouble. In retrospect, the outcome could have been much worse.
The naiad had spent the early morning collecting kelp. Her stocks were running low, though she assumed that it was due to the brisk winter that had fallen on their lands. Eos had always been a creature of the sea, but she had never found herself suffering from the cold. Nonetheless, the winter they were enduring was enough to send shivers down her back.
Treading carefully along the water, the woman caught sight of a semi-familiar figure. His dark pelt caught her gaze and she thought for a moment about skirting around him. Instead, the woman sauntered forward with a quick flick of her tail, drawing her ears forward. She had heard him speak – he spoke the language of her home. "Τι ονομάζεται,” she inquired, her eyes locked with his.
As the siren approached, Spyro immediately made himself look as small as possible (not an easy feat). He curled his tail between his legs, flattened his ears, and even hunched his back so that he was as low as possible without being terribly uncomfortable. As a consort, even an epivitoras, he ranked lower than every other female in the pack. When her eyes sought his, he immediately averted them, unwilling to challenge her in any way, shape, or form.
“Σπυρίδων,” he replied without hesitation, answering her question and elaborating no more. To say that he was obedient was an understatement. He was loyal to a fault, and would do anything and everything a siren asked of him. If two asked him to do two separate things, he would obey whoever had more authority. His life was a simple one, devoid of decision making.
The dark man’s gaze was averted almost instantly. Eos’ expression remained blank as she peered curiously on the beast. Spyridon she mused with a small curling of her leathery lips. He was a massive creature, but he seemed well suited for the life of their pack. “Εμείς δεν έχουμε γνωριστεί. Είμαι Eos.” Her words were neither kind nor formal, but had settled on a strange in-between. Her ocean-colored eyes fell away from him and sought the rolling waters for only a moment. It had been some time since she had spoken the words of her home… of her family. The familiarity was there, but distant; she could not have described it as anything more than an aching nostalgia.
“Θα αγωνιστεί και στους βράχους, Σπυρίδων,” the naiad then remarked with a faint smirk. Already she knew, this shadowy sea-wolf was nothing like what she was accustomed to. Her brothers had been subordinate and well-behaved, but they had been allowed more freedom than she imagined her present company had never seen. Perhaps he was all the better for it.
“Σας ευχαριστώ, αδελφή,” Spyridon replied, his sea-green eyes never daring to lift from their place on her feet. For Spyridon, there was only one way to do anything, and that was using everything he had to do his very best. Anything else would have been an insult to the sirens, something he certainly did not wish to do. They were his life.
If Spyro was ever to be given freedom, he would not know what to do with it. His whole life had been spent serving The Nereides, and anything else would have been blasphemy. Even if they all left him here alone, he would probably continue to defend their territory and capture strangers to continue its legacy. Even his time between Hippo Tang Cove and Ankyra Sound had had purpose, as he was simply moving from one place to another. A normal wolf might've missed his birth family, but Spyro did not have such feelings. This was his home now, until somebody told him otherwise.
She left abruptly, likely to attend to much more important matters, and Spyro went about his day.