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+--- Thread: Wheeling Gull Isle where the wind’s like a whetted knife (/showthread.php?tid=21929)
where the wind’s like a whetted knife - ThE nArRaToR - May 22, 2017
@Adeline @Anatha @Aria @Axolotl @Calypso @Cipactli @Faeryn @Ixchel @Kalika @King @Komodo @Morrighan @Nova @Ondine
This thread is MANDATORY for characters wishing to join Undersea.
Your character does not need to be on Wheeling Gull Isle to participate.
This is a roll call thread that takes place on May 22, 2017. Feel free to post with a snippet of where your character is and what your character is up to. You can reference any time of day, and if your character is inland, it’s likely the weather pattern is completely different.
I know some of you are away and that’s okay. ♥ Please message Coelacanth if you absolutely can’t post.
This thread is MANDATORY for characters wishing to join Undersea.
Your character does not need to be on Wheeling Gull Isle to participate.
This is a roll call thread that takes place on May 22, 2017. Feel free to post with a snippet of where your character is and what your character is up to. You can reference any time of day, and if your character is inland, it’s likely the weather pattern is completely different.
I know some of you are away and that’s okay. ♥ Please message Coelacanth if you absolutely can’t post.
Miles off the northern coast, a hurricane brewed.
The misty blue of the horizon line bore a subtle smudge of pewter to the east that, in all likelihood, was virtually unnoticeable to anyone who wasn’t looking for it — but the sea noticed. Her creatures noticed.
The churn of the waves was just a little rougher than normal. A new high tide line had been drawn several inches further inland from its usual place, and although it was technically low tide now, a good portion of the Oystercatcher Tide Pools was still half-submerged by the surf. Driftwood and seaweed, shells and pebbles, were thrust upon the sand with little ceremony.
By midafternoon, large schools of bluefish and bunker had begun to swarm the shallows near the northeastern crags of Stavanger Bay, threatening to blitz and bloody the water, and the larger predators were starting to notice. The sea lions became particularly active, incensed by the sudden upsurge of easy, unsuspecting prey, and their raucous barks took on a sharp new intensity. Ominous dorsal fins of varying shape, size, and color sliced through the choppy surface, intermittent and insidious. They grew nearer and nearer to the shoreline as the hours dragged on and the swarming schools of fish reached fever pitch.
High above the Dragoncrest Cliffs to the east, a heavy rain began to fall, and the fog rolling in from the sea assumed a more sinister air. Wet and chill and heavy, the winds picked up to carry the rain clouds further down the coast.
The misty blue of the horizon line bore a subtle smudge of pewter to the east that, in all likelihood, was virtually unnoticeable to anyone who wasn’t looking for it — but the sea noticed. Her creatures noticed.
The churn of the waves was just a little rougher than normal. A new high tide line had been drawn several inches further inland from its usual place, and although it was technically low tide now, a good portion of the Oystercatcher Tide Pools was still half-submerged by the surf. Driftwood and seaweed, shells and pebbles, were thrust upon the sand with little ceremony.
By midafternoon, large schools of bluefish and bunker had begun to swarm the shallows near the northeastern crags of Stavanger Bay, threatening to blitz and bloody the water, and the larger predators were starting to notice. The sea lions became particularly active, incensed by the sudden upsurge of easy, unsuspecting prey, and their raucous barks took on a sharp new intensity. Ominous dorsal fins of varying shape, size, and color sliced through the choppy surface, intermittent and insidious. They grew nearer and nearer to the shoreline as the hours dragged on and the swarming schools of fish reached fever pitch.
High above the Dragoncrest Cliffs to the east, a heavy rain began to fall, and the fog rolling in from the sea assumed a more sinister air. Wet and chill and heavy, the winds picked up to carry the rain clouds further down the coast.
posted by coelacanth.
RE: where the wind’s like a whetted knife - Cattail - May 22, 2017
[table width=80%][tr][td]Ondine had just reached the coast when she felt something amiss; She was not resting anymore and the wind carried the moist scent of a storm with the familiar smell of salt. Her mismatched eyes sought the line where the sky usually met the sea but she couldn't find it. Panic ensued as her white mane danced in the stronger winds and she sought the comfort of a sheltering tree on which the leafs danced a sinister dance. She had not expected to be greeted with such an event and prayed deep within her heart that the wind would turn, removing the incoming storm and sending it to the middle of nowhere. She had gotten here to die but wished not to be accompanied by a disaster - not while her first offspring was out and lost and probably scared more than she was. She had lost enough - she did not deserve to see her child's corpse wash on shore!
She slid to the bottom of the tree, head resting sadly on her back and paws digging nervous lines in the sand.[/tr][/td][/table]
RE: where the wind’s like a whetted knife - Aria - May 22, 2017
"no!" she screeched, her paws drumming against the ground, what few muscles she had rippling through her pelt as he feet landed heavily. before her moved a fox, quick and smart-witted. a rabbit dangled from it's black muzzle, and the pearl appeared furious. it slung insults at her through it's teeth, only egging her on. "that's mine!" she hollered after it, but her pleas were not enough-- and she was too weak to outrun it right now. but she tried. it had stolen her catch, the first in a few days. they reached the coast, too absorbed in the chase to pay attention to the sky, and the fox dove. aria skidded to a halt realizing the ocean was a bit choppier and knowing her frame would be swept up easier than usual, her ears pinning to her skull.
she followed the red dollop from on shore, eyes narrowed. he was not swimming long though, for a particularly forceful wave crashed down upon him and suddenly, he was gone. aria paused and watched for a while, minutes ticking by, before suddenly giving up. the fox was gone, and along with it her dinner. she stared into the rough sea, and in the distance the ominous sky. something was wrong, she could sense it, and after a brief hesitation, she backed herself off of the shore and back onto drier land.
RE: where the wind’s like a whetted knife - Faeryn - May 22, 2017
Faeryn had thought earlier that she had caught a whiff of Ondine's scent along the coast, but once the wind began to pick up and the rain thundered down upon her pelt. She was drenched already - but still going. After all, she had nowhere to go. She would have to find shelter, but she could find none that was safe enough. She wanted to know where her former alpha was - would she know what to do? Fae had never been in a storm before. She'd heard of them, but never been in one. What was she supposed to do?
There was a tree. It was hardly stable, but it seemed more so than the others. With a panicked sigh she forced her way over there and slumped at its base, praying that she would live. Or... maybe it wouldn't be so bad to die? Free from this world and its misfortunes? That was a welcome thought at this point. Faeryn glanced up, water splattering on her face as she watched the smudgy blue line that was supposed to be the sea. It was churning and rough. Where was Ondine? Why was she out here? And what was Fae going to do?
RE: where the wind’s like a whetted knife - Addie - May 22, 2017
Adeline is currently in the southern Sunspire area.
After seeing Dawn, Adeline traveled south in somewhat of a haze. She didn’t know where she was going and spent most of her time simply existing. She’d gone through Blackfoot Forest for a little while until she heard the shrill yip of a fox in the distance, causing her to leave the forest as quickly as she could. After that, she spent most of her time in the rocky cliffs of Little Goat Mountain and the fringes of Sawtooth Spire. A familiar scent tickles her nose but she does not linger to try and find it and, instead, continues on with no particular direction in mind.
RE: where the wind’s like a whetted knife - Tael - May 22, 2017
creeps. tael is somewhere in the flatlands.
All signs pointed here. A few tracks here, a tuft of rosy fur caught in the bark of a pine there. Not to mention the roamers he'd found that pointed him this way. She'd spent the night as one of their number but was gone by morning after eating her fill of their kill, they'd said.
Tael could see how she got lost. It was a great wide world, and soon every mountain, forest, and valley began to look just like the last. He wasn't even sure which way he'd come from anymore, but the thought didn't deter him from his path. If he found her, they could find their way back together, because two would have a far greater chance of survival than one.
Nose to the stones, he followed the twisting river onward as the skies grew dark over the distant coast.
RE: where the wind’s like a whetted knife - Axolotl - May 23, 2017
short post is short. :0 gonna say he's already on wheeling gull.
[table width=85%][tr][td]
Axolotl had crossed the sandbar to the Isle the morning previous in a desire to explore the Isle that awaited beyond the sea lion shore. The leviathan drew in a deep breath of the tangy, salty brine, closing glacial eyes as it whips against his fur. He prowls the shore of the Isle even as the rain begins to fall. The Atlanian senses the unease of Atlan as they roil and seethe beneath it’s frothy surface. The surface is not raised but with his attention to the vast of Atlan’s domain his hackles bristle with siphoned unease. The fog that creeps upon the waves is sinister. It obscures him, swallowing him whole as it creeps onto the shore of the Isle like pestilence, thick and heavy. He paces with anxiety in each heavy footfall, unsettled by the ill omen. Atlan’s fury is brewing and They are about to unleash something unholy upon the coast. He does not know what but he senses it is coming and turns from the sea heading towards the middle of the Isle instinct telling him that he needs to find shelter to weather it.
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RE: where the wind’s like a whetted knife - Kalika - May 23, 2017
Slight PP. Let me know if I should change anything :)
Kalika and @Calypso had taken refuge in Ankyra Sound with the piercing eyes of the Blackwater Islands watching their every step. She knew that soon, once the Sea came to truly realize what her daughter had done in disbanding the Nereides, there would be a storm of anger that they would have to struggle through. And though it made more sense for the duo to make their way inland, Kalika couldn't help but feel drawn to the mysterious nature of the coast.
We'll stay here for a little while, she said to the girl,
and then we'll start moving into the forests. Is that okay, πριγκίπισσα?Once she had confirmation from Calypso, Kalika took it upon herself to curl against a rock with open arms as an invitation for a peaceful rest.
RE: where the wind’s like a whetted knife - Komodo - May 23, 2017
Something churned the ocean and whipped at the sky.
What brewed offshore, miles away, was suddenly palpable to all — no one more keen to it than the earthstalker. The mottled brute sat upon a precipice of limestone and sand, nose twisted to the wind and ears pressed against his skull, entirely displeased. He had come to this island in pursuit of Coelacanth, the girl who reentered his story and then exited with such alacrity that it left the grounded man spinning; and upon this new isle he had found nothing of her, but found other means of entertainment that had kept him in place for several days. But now it was clear that something had displeased the spirits greatly, and they threatened to upset the placidity of the spring, so the shaman would need to reason with them.
Komodo turned away from the Isle’s shore and wove his way inland. He would need to prepare.
What brewed offshore, miles away, was suddenly palpable to all — no one more keen to it than the earthstalker. The mottled brute sat upon a precipice of limestone and sand, nose twisted to the wind and ears pressed against his skull, entirely displeased. He had come to this island in pursuit of Coelacanth, the girl who reentered his story and then exited with such alacrity that it left the grounded man spinning; and upon this new isle he had found nothing of her, but found other means of entertainment that had kept him in place for several days. But now it was clear that something had displeased the spirits greatly, and they threatened to upset the placidity of the spring, so the shaman would need to reason with them.
Komodo turned away from the Isle’s shore and wove his way inland. He would need to prepare.
RE: where the wind’s like a whetted knife - Calypso - May 23, 2017
The young girl did not know of what was brewing off shore, only that her mother became antsy and expectant. It was as if she was waiting for something to happen. Calypso knew they were offshore from her old home, the Blackwater Isles, but the name of her location was unkown to her.
The pup was enjoying her time there. She knew not why, but more shells and diftwood were showing up on the beach for her to play with. She was upset when her mother announced that they would soon leave. "Ok mαμά, but do we have to go back into the forest? I like it here." Her small face was drawn and questioning.
RE: where the wind’s like a whetted knife - King - May 23, 2017
He'd wandered south, skirting the trail of @Adeline. Sometimes he saw her, and called out in greeting, but for the most part, they were on two separate journeys that happened to follow similar and intersecting paths. Still, it'd become a comfort to catch her scent on the breeze, and sometimes, late a night, he wondered if she, too, was lying awake, wondering what he was doing right then.
It was on one of these late nights that King felt a crackle of something roll down his spine. The male leapt to his paws, wondering what was going on. Nothing had changed, except, perhaps, for a slight shift in the breeze. He stood a moment longer, ears swivelling uncertainly. The wind combed soothingly through his fur. A soft breath fell from his maw.
With a quiet grumble, he settled down once more, tucking his nose into his tail and letting his eyes flutter shut.
He did not sleep at all, that night.
RE: where the wind’s like a whetted knife - Constantine - May 24, 2017
He paced the shore like a caged tiger. The storm across the harsh waters had pulled him here -- his eyes flashed with untested anger with each passing moment. Had it been a storm like this that had swept Donnelaith away? That had taken his sister's from him? He paused for a moment, staring in to the waters as be contemplated swimming tower it -- a watery grave that would suit him and his crimes well. Perhaps his spirit would even find Deirdre -- but it was unlikely. She was now in a far better place than he would be allowed to.
For a moment, the wind gripped him with teasing familiarity. Something in the beast stirred, and the Mayfair's muscles became taut with apprehension and longing. Aria, the wind whispered to him, as if the pale dove were near. But it was impossible -- he had left her upon the tallest mountain, with her friend and likely consort Floki. He could still see the way she had looked to the silver wolf -- she was safe there.
It was like the final pierce in his heart at the thought, and with his anger at the world diminishing rapidly, Constantine felt a sense of calm as his dark body began to sluice through the waters.
The salt water stung his eyes and tore his throat -- he welcomed it. After all, why the hell not?
RE: where the wind’s like a whetted knife - Coelacanth - May 25, 2017
Miles away from the sea, in the bowels of a cave in the middle of a foreboding darkwood, the sheepdog listened to the distant sound of rain. She tiptoed to the maw of the Wolfskull but huddled in the dry dust, in the shadow of the incisors, as her slender muzzle quivered and watered. Part of the cause for her pytalism was fear, pure and simple — but the brunt of it was hunger, pure and simple. Her already gamine frame was gaunt and skeletal now, the lustrous quality of her fur dull and lank; she was a selkie’s daughter, deprived of the sea, and the hunger she felt went beyond a simple need for food. It was freedom she hungered for.
As a distant roll of thunder caused her skin to prickle with unease — she’d never really liked thunderstorms, but she wasn’t as troubled by them as some of her more domesticated brethren — she licked her lips nervously. Soft plip-plops of moisture dropped into the dust at her frightfully dirty paws, creating infinitesimal mushroom clouds that she regarded with terror. The moisture in the air made the scents around her that much more intense, and she felt suddenly that she would rather die than waste away another day in this foul prison. She could smell Abraxas and Atshen, and the woman who had shown her a deceptive sort of kindness, and she whipped around, but this time no wolf was regurgitated from the ‘Skull’s inner seams. Flinging her head up, her dry, cracked nostrils flaring, she leapt clear over the incisors like an agility hurdle and made her escape in not a proud sprint but a series of scuttling darts and pregnant pauses.
As a distant roll of thunder caused her skin to prickle with unease — she’d never really liked thunderstorms, but she wasn’t as troubled by them as some of her more domesticated brethren — she licked her lips nervously. Soft plip-plops of moisture dropped into the dust at her frightfully dirty paws, creating infinitesimal mushroom clouds that she regarded with terror. The moisture in the air made the scents around her that much more intense, and she felt suddenly that she would rather die than waste away another day in this foul prison. She could smell Abraxas and Atshen, and the woman who had shown her a deceptive sort of kindness, and she whipped around, but this time no wolf was regurgitated from the ‘Skull’s inner seams. Flinging her head up, her dry, cracked nostrils flaring, she leapt clear over the incisors like an agility hurdle and made her escape in not a proud sprint but a series of scuttling darts and pregnant pauses.
RE: where the wind’s like a whetted knife - Nova - May 25, 2017
Even further away was a child torn. Duty to her family, to herself, to her dreams - it all made a festering mess of her emotions to a point where it felt like another beast was struggling beneath her skin. It would come out soon enough. She could feel the charge in the air of a distant storm, only vaguely able to see the rise of the dark storm clouds. Her tail lashed behind her and inside a new storm brew. Perhaps it was fed by the force of the earth, some pulling and needing thing she couldn't name. Maybe it was something different entirely.
Soon, the storm in her would break. She did not know how, or why, but something would shift and change. She was growing, all of her siblings were, and she could not imagine what it might mean for her in a few short weeks when she could choose where she went and how. She did not feel wholly welcome in the pack despite her father's reassurances. She didn't feel comfortable there, like she had in the Fen. Maybe she would go back, just to see if Mato had come by. Maybe she would just check.
RE: where the wind’s like a whetted knife - Ixchel - May 26, 2017
[table width=67%][tr][td]
Far, far inland, Ixchel could feel the storm brewing in her bones. It would be another halfday still before she could surmise the cause of the chill creeping along her spine, but if she had been further north then the answer would've instantly been clearer. This was not some average rainy seastorm. It was not here to kick up water and shift the ruffles of the sands. The islander knew hurricanes, and by now did not fear them. Respected, perhaps, but she respected elk too; it didn't mean that she was too afraid to hunt them.
Willfully ignoring the seeded feeling of unease mushrooming in her belly, Ixchel continued northwest. She set her pace to the drum of elan and certainty, knowing that nothing would stop her pursuit of the ocean—not when she had just come to know that pushing through her inhibitions had always made way to greater fortune.
[/td][/tr][/table]
Willfully ignoring the seeded feeling of unease mushrooming in her belly, Ixchel continued northwest. She set her pace to the drum of elan and certainty, knowing that nothing would stop her pursuit of the ocean—not when she had just come to know that pushing through her inhibitions had always made way to greater fortune.
RE: where the wind’s like a whetted knife - Aris - May 28, 2017
i'm going to say that Aris and Sosta were outside of Teekon Wilds when this post was happening, and we're heading south towards the coast, so the storm in this post isn't necessarily related to the oncoming hurricane
Aris and Sosta had finally left home. As soon as they'd turned one, they'd kissed their mom goodbye and flown the nest. The twins had always longed for adventure, they craved it, and this was their chance. They were very very young still, maybe too young for such a big journey. Maybe their youth was part of the problem.
They were in a forest, and the clouds above looked ready to burst. The curious and confident Aris told his sister it was fine, they'd be ok. A little rain had never hurt them before. But Sosta hadn't seemed too convinced. She had always been the more careful of the two, the one to keep them both out of trouble. But she watched Aris having the time of his life and she couldn't make him stop. In fact, she was having a great time too, so he wasn't the only one who didn't want to take a break.
When the rain started, it began soft, but it started to pick up. The earthy toned twins decided at last that it was time to find cover, but it was too late for that. They could barely see with all the rain, or hear. The wind was howling, and Aris was terrified. He started to run, assuming his sister was at his side, as she always was. He kept running, fear driving him on. He'd never been at such a loss for his senses, and not just his physical ones. He ran and ran from the thunder and lightning and the blinding power of the wind and rain, until the storm stopped. He realized then that he had no idea where he was, where Sosta was.
He called her name, he searched and searched, but they'd become separated. The storm had stopped for only a little while it seemed, or maybe he'd just outrun it. But more was coming, he could see it in the clouds behind him. This wasn't the last he'd see of the storm. After a while of looking, he decided that Sosta would be going south also. That's where they had decided to go, and she was the best navigator he knew, surely if he kept going south, he'd meet back up with her. Surely.
And so off he went, alone and soaked, and tired. Escaping a storm that had barely reached its peak.