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+--- Thread: Wheeling Gull Isle Washed up (/showthread.php?tid=22183)
Washed up - Dakarai - June 12, 2017
Dakarai didn't know he ended up here, all he remembered was the anger he had felt when running from Moonspear. Was it his fault for misreading the signs? yeah, totally. Did he still feel betrayed? yeah, indeed. He had ran from moonspear after olive turned him away once again, denying everything she felt for him straight to his face. He hadn't meant to go so far, but he had wound up on the cliffs along the coast. A storm had been brewing, the wind making it difficult for him to see where he was going.
He hadn't noticed the drop off in front of his own paws until he was falling. The cold wetness of the ocean flooded his senses, the salt stinging his eyes until he was forced to close them. he couldn't swim to the surface no matter how hard he tried and the current kept tugging him away. His head finally broke the surface and he inhaled a deep breath, coughing and sputtering loudly. He tried to fight the current and spot land anywhere, but the storm blocked his view. Suddenly he was thrown against a rock and his head slammed harshly against the solid mass. Limply he floated until his body reached sand, and his unconscious form lay still in the storm.
Waking up with a whimper he saw he lay on land, but he had never seen this place before. His throat hurt and his head felt heavy and numb. "Hello? Anyone?" he called out his voice raspy. He must have inhaled too much saltwater. Rolling over onto his belly he looked around, his blue eyes wide with apprehension and anxiety. How far was he from Moonspear? Where was he?
@Coelacanth but anyone else is welcome to find him!
RE: Washed up - Faeryn - June 14, 2017
Hope you don't mind me popping in :)
Faeryn, since coming to terms with her current situation and whereabouts, had been subtly avoiding conversing with most others. Silence told more than enough, she believed. Her time on the island had not been considerably long, but she had been washed up at apparently the same time as many others. Fae would, undoubtedly, rather be back on the mainland, but she did not want to swim all the way back. No, that would probably be useless. Instead, she would have to settle here with the others until a way back was found. Or perhaps she would just stay here. After all, she did not have a home to go back to. Neverwinter was gone - though it had not been much of a home in the first place. The dove would have to make sure to assert her dominance over some of the others, for she would not settle for a low ranking. She'd had enough of being a low wolf, disregarded by many others. Heck, she'd rather be a lone wolf altogether than be at the bottom of a pack's rankings.
When she came across the man, drenched with salty water and calling out for help, she glanced around first before approaching cautiously. "Hello." She replied simply, padding closer until she was standing pretty much above him, peering down curiously. She sniffed at him, trying to gain what she could from his scent, but deemed it useless once all she got was salty water. The stretch of water that the man had come across had seemingly washed away any scent that might have remained on the dark wolf's coat.
"Are you able to get up, or do you need help?" The blue wolfess asked, hoping to possibly gain an ally in this. After all, surely it could not hurt to have somebody to trust. To be able to talk to. Faeryn trusted nobody so far on the island. There were a few kind wolves that she had met, but none whom she considered friends.
RE: Washed up - Coelacanth - June 17, 2017
The voice that cried for succor was raspy and weak, but Coelacanth heard it clearly from her vantage point just a few meters north. She’d tucked herself into a carefully carved divot in the sand to watch the sea lions — a long forgotten pastime that never failed to bring her a deep-seated sort of contentment. Tufted ears perked to attention, one petal-like bulb twisting to more clearly hear the voice of the female who came to the caller’s aid.
Today was the third good day in a stretch of cognizant days for the tiny Groenendael, and although her recovery was not without its share of hiccups and backpedaling, she was progressing rapidly toward a more serene, more steady state. She didn’t immediately recognize Dakarai’s voice, though perhaps she should have; at Lotte’s behest, it had been the swarthy Svartell’s cry that brought about her inevitable betrayal. Utterly unaware, she rose from her little hollow and moved toward the sound, purely out of curiosity.
The moment she laid eyes on the wolf in the sand, though, memory upon memory leapt to the fore. She remembered Dakarai with intimate detail, having tended his wounds on multiple occasions — and her instinct now brought her forward a few hurried paces, ghosting softly across the sand. What harm has befallen you now? Her Neptune eyes scanned the horizon for her friend — for Olive, the mist-shrouded druid who had named her Carina — and then she remembered what had happened the last time she answered Dakarai’s summons. In that instant, her bright cerulean gaze clouded with suspicion and she blew out a shaky, whuffling snort of alarm. Remaining out of touching distance, she stood and watched — but her sharply emaciated frame held within its spindly confines a new tension.
Today was the third good day in a stretch of cognizant days for the tiny Groenendael, and although her recovery was not without its share of hiccups and backpedaling, she was progressing rapidly toward a more serene, more steady state. She didn’t immediately recognize Dakarai’s voice, though perhaps she should have; at Lotte’s behest, it had been the swarthy Svartell’s cry that brought about her inevitable betrayal. Utterly unaware, she rose from her little hollow and moved toward the sound, purely out of curiosity.
The moment she laid eyes on the wolf in the sand, though, memory upon memory leapt to the fore. She remembered Dakarai with intimate detail, having tended his wounds on multiple occasions — and her instinct now brought her forward a few hurried paces, ghosting softly across the sand. What harm has befallen you now? Her Neptune eyes scanned the horizon for her friend — for Olive, the mist-shrouded druid who had named her Carina — and then she remembered what had happened the last time she answered Dakarai’s summons. In that instant, her bright cerulean gaze clouded with suspicion and she blew out a shaky, whuffling snort of alarm. Remaining out of touching distance, she stood and watched — but her sharply emaciated frame held within its spindly confines a new tension.
RE: Washed up - Dakarai - June 17, 2017
Dakarai spotted the grey and white woman approaching, and flattened his ears against his skull. He did not move as she stood over him and sniffed at him, not deeming her a threat quite yet. "I hit my head, but let me try" he said warily and rolled onto his belly. Once he was there and he felt no serious pain except for a throbbing at the base of his skull, he pushed himself into a sitting position. "I think i'll be alright. Fell into the ocean from a cliff and got swept away. I am Dakarai" He introduced to her, his eyes studying her face before a noise caught his attention.
His head snapped toward the sound, and what he saw there made him freeze. The black sheepdog stood several yards away from him, staring at him with emotions he couldn't tell. the sight drew forth many memories he hadn't dwelled upon in many months, and with them came strong guilt and pain. "Carina.." The word rose in a keening whimper from his throat, wrought with guilt, and sadness but also with relief. "Carina...I'm so sorry..." The words were ones he had wished to say from the day she had been dragged away by those Blackfeather fuckers, those vile wolves who had plagued his nightmares for nearly a year. His chest and shoulder trembled as he took a steadying breath, unable to tear his gaze away from the woman as if she would disappear if he did.
RE: Washed up - Faeryn - June 18, 2017
Faeryn nodded when he spoke, stating that he would try. "Don't worry, I landed here in much the same way, except I don't remember if I was on a cliff or not." She shrugged, but was glad they had something in common at least. It seemed the storm had washed up many along the shores of the island. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dakarai, even if it was not in the greatest way..." She gave a small smile, pleased that he seemed of no threat. "My name is Faeryn." She introduced herself, but did not get to say more. The woman heard a sound and apparently so did her new acquaintance. Silver ears turned, followed by her head, in the direction of the sound.
It seemed that Dakarai knew this stranger. Who was she? Another possible ally, or...?
RE: Washed up - Coelacanth - June 22, 2017
The little sheepdog watched Dakarai and Faeryn interact from a distance, every nerve etched in wariness — but when Olive’s name for her fell from Dakarai’s lips, her tufted ears flattened abruptly and she deliberately turned away, muzzle tipping with sharp alacrity toward the sea lions. It was a pointed rebuff. She had not allowed Szymon to use Doe’s name for her, and she would not allow Dakarai to use Olive’s. To the tiny Groenendael, names were sacred things — and although being reunited with Axolotl, Ixchel, and Komodo meant that more wolves would learn her true name, she still relished the names given to her by others.
Coelacanth’s Neptune gaze tiptoed along the horizon line, cutting a wide swath around Dakarai’s swarthy silhouette, and came to rest on the blue she-wolf. She seemed friendly enough, so Seelie demurely angled her muzzle and entreatingly lifted one catlike paw.
Despite her firm rejection of the name he’d used, Coelacanth was not a creature to whom such brusque mannerisms came naturally, and guilt was already pressing hot fingers into her gamine flesh. There had been tears on Dakarai’s cheeks the day he had summoned her to her inevitable demise, and the grief writ upon his grim-lined face had been practically tangible to the atramentous empath — but her imprisonment had changed her. She was not as forgiving as she had been prior to that experience. She was clearly uncomfortable with his appearance on the island she had called sanctuary, but she had no desire to drive him from it — so she made up her mind to give him what she assumed he’d come for: her forgiveness.
She made herself look at him, cerulean meeting stormy blue, and although her heart turned over at the remorse in his keening whine, her expression was quiet and serene. She dipped her muzzle low in acknowledgement and acceptance of the apology she’d initially left hanging in midair, and issued a soft, soothing, “Shh…” — one of the few sounds she was able to make, as it did not require the thrum of a functioning set of vocal cords.
Coelacanth’s Neptune gaze tiptoed along the horizon line, cutting a wide swath around Dakarai’s swarthy silhouette, and came to rest on the blue she-wolf. She seemed friendly enough, so Seelie demurely angled her muzzle and entreatingly lifted one catlike paw.
Despite her firm rejection of the name he’d used, Coelacanth was not a creature to whom such brusque mannerisms came naturally, and guilt was already pressing hot fingers into her gamine flesh. There had been tears on Dakarai’s cheeks the day he had summoned her to her inevitable demise, and the grief writ upon his grim-lined face had been practically tangible to the atramentous empath — but her imprisonment had changed her. She was not as forgiving as she had been prior to that experience. She was clearly uncomfortable with his appearance on the island she had called sanctuary, but she had no desire to drive him from it — so she made up her mind to give him what she assumed he’d come for: her forgiveness.
She made herself look at him, cerulean meeting stormy blue, and although her heart turned over at the remorse in his keening whine, her expression was quiet and serene. She dipped her muzzle low in acknowledgement and acceptance of the apology she’d initially left hanging in midair, and issued a soft, soothing, “Shh…” — one of the few sounds she was able to make, as it did not require the thrum of a functioning set of vocal cords.
RE: Washed up - Dakarai - June 24, 2017
His eyes briefly flicked to the light hued female as she introduced herself, but he found himself unable to tear his gaze away from the sheepdog for long. The rebuff was not ignored and his ears flicked back, a look of confusion crossing his face even though he lowered his head in acceptance. The apology was ignored and this deepened his sadness. he wished he could explain what happened and why she had been given away. He had regretted the sacrifice ever since it had happened, he would have rather had himself been given away. His eyes squeezed shut as he fought back another wave of grief, wishing Olive was here. Despite the anger she caused within him, the pain, and the betrayal he felt she would know what to do here. She would know how to soothe her Nursemaid, and explain what happened better than Dakarai ever could.
A hushed sound made his eyes open and he hesitantly looked at the sheepdog, noticing the way her head hung low. Was she accepting his apology? It seemed she was and this brought forth a wave of relief and happiness. His thick black tail thumped against the sand and he offered the smallest of smiles, his lips curling up at the corners to form a hesitant smile "Thank you...Skiá" the name had fallen from his lips with ease, he hadnt even thought about it before uttering the name. The name was familiar to him, a comfort from his puphood. Skiá was a Deity of the night, one that brought the relief of sweet dreams and fulfilling sleep to all who slept beneath the stars. She was a commonly worhsipped Deity in Dakarai's homepack. He was unsure if the name would be accepted so he cleared his throat "I...I don't know what to call you miss, so I thought Skiá would be a pretty and suiting name. Skiá is a nurturing deity who brings pleasant dreams to pups and adults who sleep beneath the stars." he explained in an embarassed voice.
he realized he had been ignoring what faeryn had said to him, and so he finally tore his gaze from the newly named Skiá, and offered a smile "It is nice to meet you too faeryn. Do you know how many others are on this island?" the question was directed mainly at Faeryn since he knew all too well that Skiá could not vocalize answers.
RE: Washed up - Coelacanth - October 06, 2017
Closing this up!
Somewhat begrudgingly — for Coelacanth’s inky feathers were wholly ruffled by Dakarai’s literal resurfacing — the atramentous sheepdog mulled over her new name. Skiá. It was a lovely name, and more than worthy as a peace offering. By the time he’d finished his explanation, Skiá was sold. Dipping her muzzle low in acceptance of her new name, the tiny dancer pirouetted on a nimble hind paw and disappeared into the brush, disappearing as swiftly and silently as she’d come. For better or for worse, she had granted Dakarai a strange sort of amnesty — though she wouldn’t be leaving Stockholm shadow anytime soon.