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+--- Thread: Wheeling Gull Isle the protectorate of seelholm (/showthread.php?tid=26272)
the protectorate of seelholm - Coelacanth - March 18, 2018
@Moorhen, aside from being much taller than Coelacanth remembered, was also much more affectionate — and vocal! Sometimes it was difficult to match the reticent little seashell with the beautiful, capable she-wolf she had become, but the sheepdog wouldn’t have it any other way. Anyway, having some muscle on her side was certainly a plus — and the fact that Moorhen seemed to want to hang out even when the rest of the pack was asleep was an added bonus. Seelie still didn’t really like sleeping. She had nightmares more often than not, and instead of trying to isolate and deal with the feelings that triggered them, she simply…didn’t sleep. She worked.
Like a dog.
The moon was nowhere to be seen, but Coelacanth lifted her head at the sight of an eerie blue glow in the distance. Nosing at her lamb, she pointed toward it with a curious tilt of her head and boofed softly, disengaging from the warm press of Stockholm and Moorhen and padding cautiously toward it. It seemed to be coming from some previously hidden cleft in the stone to the north of where the trio made their bed. She wanted to explore it — did Moorhen want to come?
Like a dog.
The moon was nowhere to be seen, but Coelacanth lifted her head at the sight of an eerie blue glow in the distance. Nosing at her lamb, she pointed toward it with a curious tilt of her head and boofed softly, disengaging from the warm press of Stockholm and Moorhen and padding cautiously toward it. It seemed to be coming from some previously hidden cleft in the stone to the north of where the trio made their bed. She wanted to explore it — did Moorhen want to come?
RE: the protectorate of seelholm - Moor - March 18, 2018
Moorhen did want to come. In fact, as soon as the Shadow had shown signs of wanting to move, Moorhen had risen as well to hover just behind her, an anxious expression that bordered on histronic writ across her dark face. But when the Shadow turned back to her with invitation in her eyes, the expression melted away almost at once. She answered with a near-silent boof, falling into step too-close-for-comfort at the caretaker's hip.
I will follow you, bespoke the taut readiness of her stance. The Shadow would not be travelling more than a foot away from her reunited charge.
RE: the protectorate of seelholm - Coelacanth - March 18, 2018
With Moorhen in tow, the little Groenendael trotted into the shadow of Skybowl, her aphotic fur blending perfectly into the darkness. Questing nose quivered as she poked around in the lightless crevasses, tufted ears swiveling like teardrop-shaped satellite dishes to catch every echo. The glimmer of glowing blue appeared to be coming from the stone itself — a tall spire of rock with patches of swirling, kaleidoscopic color: blues, greens, even deep coppers and reds. Behind it, though, was the sound of falling water, and the scent in the air was sweet as snowmelt. Lifting her muzzle, Seelie sniffed, took a step, sniffed again, and curiously pushed a paw against the wall of rock. There was an entrance somewhere around here — she could feel the air pattern change.
“Skybowl,” she informed the girl in a reverent whisper, nodding toward the mountain. Stockholm had chosen the name, and it was befitting for the formerly domesticated dog who knew that in some circles, water came from bowls — and only if you were a Very Bad Dog did you drink out of the one made of shining white stone. Clambering up one of the miniature ridges, she rose to her full height — she thought she could see a ledge behind one of the smaller waterfalls up ahead, but she wasn’t tall enough to confirm it. The mountain was a wealth of sweetwater, and it cascaded down in rills and rivers, but did not have the capacity to produce teeming cascades or rapids. Slipping was always a danger, but they need not fear being sluiced down a river and into the sea. Turning to Moorhen, she issued a quirk of her elegant muzzle and then repeated her “short girl in a crowd of tall people” pantomime: standing on her tiptoes, rocking from one side to the other as she tried to see something just above her line of vision. Perhaps Moorhen could see a way up?
“Skybowl,” she informed the girl in a reverent whisper, nodding toward the mountain. Stockholm had chosen the name, and it was befitting for the formerly domesticated dog who knew that in some circles, water came from bowls — and only if you were a Very Bad Dog did you drink out of the one made of shining white stone. Clambering up one of the miniature ridges, she rose to her full height — she thought she could see a ledge behind one of the smaller waterfalls up ahead, but she wasn’t tall enough to confirm it. The mountain was a wealth of sweetwater, and it cascaded down in rills and rivers, but did not have the capacity to produce teeming cascades or rapids. Slipping was always a danger, but they need not fear being sluiced down a river and into the sea. Turning to Moorhen, she issued a quirk of her elegant muzzle and then repeated her “short girl in a crowd of tall people” pantomime: standing on her tiptoes, rocking from one side to the other as she tried to see something just above her line of vision. Perhaps Moorhen could see a way up?
RE: the protectorate of seelholm - Moor - March 18, 2018
They travelled in silence for a time before the Shadow broke it once more. Moorhen startled, still not used to the idea of Shadow-with-a-voice. "Um," she said, her voice somewhat skeptic. Skybowl? Where did that come from, she wondered, but the girl's focus on her protector's actions kept her from forming the question into actual words.
Seeing the Shadow's strange curiosity with the weeping rocks, Moorhen shuffled, wanting to be sure of her footing, and then reared back on her hind legs, trying to see what had interested the other creature so. There seemed to be nothing, and then Moorhen noticed that there was more of that odd glow behind the water. She dropped back to all fours, casting another skeptic look in the Shadow's direction.
"Cave," said Moorhen. "Um. Moon? In there?"
RE: the protectorate of seelholm - Coelacanth - March 18, 2018
Coelacanth bounced excitedly as Moorhen reared up like the horses of the veldt — oh! she would have to show Moorhen the horses! — and the buzzing energy that shimmied down her supple spine in a full body wiggle only intensified as the girl began to speak. She nodded emphatically when her suspicions were confirmed, though she didn’t understand the expression on the girl’s face. Truth be told, the sheepdog had grown so used to thinking of the banded seawolf as her lamb, she didn’t think twice about calling the shots or surging forward without asking for input.
Settling her weight on her hindquarters, Seelie too reared, but it was more illustrative than anything else. “Let’s go!” the gesture bespoke, picking her way carefully up the ridge upon which they stood and rooting around until she found a safe way to clamber atop the ledge. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she turned to make sure Moorhen was keeping up, and her behavior was entirely congratulatory, rife with praise. “Look at this cool thing you found! I am so proud of you!” she seemed to say, licking feverishly at the underside of the girl’s muzzle.
Settling her weight on her hindquarters, Seelie too reared, but it was more illustrative than anything else. “Let’s go!” the gesture bespoke, picking her way carefully up the ridge upon which they stood and rooting around until she found a safe way to clamber atop the ledge. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she turned to make sure Moorhen was keeping up, and her behavior was entirely congratulatory, rife with praise. “Look at this cool thing you found! I am so proud of you!” she seemed to say, licking feverishly at the underside of the girl’s muzzle.
RE: the protectorate of seelholm - Moor - March 18, 2018
Oh. They were going in there. "Um?" Moorhen warned as the Shadow began to ascend the face of the weeping rocks, paws nimble but moving entirely too quick. The dark girl hastened after her elder, putting her paws exactly where the Shadow's had been. Still, she found herself scrabbling slightly for purchase, not quite as graceful as her counterpart.
They soon found themselves behind the water. The world grew oddly muffled, then, with even the water seeming more quiet than it had before. Gladly, she accepted her caretaker's affection, saoking up the comfort like a sad, shrunken sponge. She'd not spent much time in caves before, and the quiet seclusion was unnerving to the younger wolf. Moorhen had the sudden feeling that the world had ceased to exist beyond the waterfall, and that she and the Shadow were the only living creatures left.
Somehow, it was not a comforting thought.
"Dark," she said uncertainly, peering out through the water. It was all blackness and movement. "Inside?" she suggested. The moon was in there. Perhaps it would be better.
RE: the protectorate of seelholm - Coelacanth - March 18, 2018
The tiny sheepdog moved in a careful shuffle, keeping the bulk of her frail weight on solid ground while she tested the floor in front of her; she felt Moorhen’s trepidation as if it was her own, but in Seelie it alchemized into a bubbly concoction of excitement, curiosity, and anticipation. There was fear there, too, as there always was when Coelacanth was concerned — but the desire to see and know the origin of that eerie blue glow was more important. Still, she paused upon a shimmering expanse of stone to turn with meticulous care and very gently lean up to bathe Moorhen’s face in kisses. Her tail swept over her spine as she lifted her elegant head — in a more commandeering wolf, this might have translated to, “I am dominant,” but in Seelie it simply meant, “I am calm and I will protect you.” Her Neptune eyes were soft and warm, creased in a smile.
If Moorhen was too stressed to continue, Seelie would gladly cease and desist.
If Moorhen was too stressed to continue, Seelie would gladly cease and desist.
RE: the protectorate of seelholm - Moor - March 18, 2018
The air was heavy inside the cave - warm compared to the icy outside temperatures, and laden with salt and thin ocean mist. Where they stood, the ground was merely slick with moisture, the surface smooth and scaled over with white mineral deposits. Up ahead, though, Moorhen could see the ground turn blue and misty. Still water - except, no. It was lapping, ever so gently, against the limescale shore. How deep it was would determine how long their little foray would be - but that blue glow was coming from slightly deeper in the cave, and Moorhen found herself wanting to see just what it was.
"Warm," she said to her companion, marvelling somewhat at this revellation. She and Fen had slept in an earthen den, and it had rarely seemed warmer than the outside world. Here - although Moorhen could still see her breath - it seemed almost balmy.
RE: the protectorate of seelholm - Coelacanth - March 18, 2018
The little Groenendael’s tail fluttered eagerly behind her, thumping a staccato rhythm between the labradorite wall and Moorhen’s sturdy forelimbs. Nodding in agreement at the banded girl’s assessment — it did seem warmer in here, somehow — she moved forward, carefully and gingerly, and peered through a circular archway of stone to espy a miniature waterfall. She outstretched her finely tapered muzzle and lapped at it, finding it to be sweet and refreshingly cold, but when she tried to follow the riverbed further up — first judging that there were no sheer drops by the trickling flow — the water simply seemed to come from the wall itself.
Coelacanth propped herself up against the rock wall, one delicate forepaw pressed against the bleeding stone and one tucked against the sloping curve of her breast, but she lost interest in favor of exploring further. Circling back to Moorhen, she nibbled affectionately at the curve of the girl’s hip and passed the round archway on her right, threading her way down a gentle incline. The sound of lapping water got nearer the further she seemed to go, and the ceiling just ahead was alight with what appeared to be tiny, glistening stars. All around was the sound of falling water, like a symphony of rain. A low boof misted from her lips as she tiptoed forward through the gloom.
Coelacanth propped herself up against the rock wall, one delicate forepaw pressed against the bleeding stone and one tucked against the sloping curve of her breast, but she lost interest in favor of exploring further. Circling back to Moorhen, she nibbled affectionately at the curve of the girl’s hip and passed the round archway on her right, threading her way down a gentle incline. The sound of lapping water got nearer the further she seemed to go, and the ceiling just ahead was alight with what appeared to be tiny, glistening stars. All around was the sound of falling water, like a symphony of rain. A low boof misted from her lips as she tiptoed forward through the gloom.
RE: the protectorate of seelholm - Moor - March 19, 2018
The Shadow seemed to share none of her charge's reservations about the place. Rather, she was climbing the walls, blowing ice-clouds into the already heavy air, tail in constant motion as she surveyed this new part of her home.
To Moorhen, it was like something out of a fever dream. She picked her way after the elder wolf, each step chosen carefully in the darkness of the caves. For a while, she could see very little - and then the blue haze above them slowly revealed itself to be not the moon, but a sea of stars, right under the ground. "Um!" said Moorhen, opening her mouth to point out that the sky was right there, close enough to touch, but she was pretty sure none of this was real.
Unable to find the words, she simply followed after her Shadow, tail beginning to wag as the spirit of adventure gripped her heart. Besides, if she was dreaming, they couldn't very well die, could they?
RE: the protectorate of seelholm - Coelacanth - March 20, 2018
Coelacanth tipped back her head until the tips of her tufted ears tangled in the feathery fur of her nape, transfixed by the twinkling canopy. Moorhen’s surge of excitement was infectious, and although Seelie was too awestruck to respond verbally, she offered a soft, wheedling whine and pressed her nose to the taller female’s neck. Her eyes crinkled at the corners, a shy dog smile, as she softly woofed and picked a path at random. It would take the seawolves some time to fully navigate the chambers of this labyrinth, but despite the tiny Groenendael’s instinctive fear of being caged or cornered, she didn’t mind getting lost within these walls. She hit a dead end, circled around, and descended into what appeared to be a sea cave of sorts. Now, at low tide, the water lapped gently at her feet — and wherever she stepped, swirls of iridescent blue arose.
RE: the protectorate of seelholm - Moor - March 20, 2018
Moorhen followed dolefully after her shepherd, blinking around at the shimmering blue waters and sparkling cavern walls. The smell of salt and damp stone soothed something fierce and ragged that had been clawing at her heart.
This was not a nightmare. It was the sort of dream she didn't want to wake from. She was safe here, and the Shadow would protect her, and the air was warm and clean - she felt almost like a girl again, safe against the teat of some unknown shewolf. Her mother? The Shadow? Doe herself? It didn't matter. Moorhen had an inkling that this was what the womb must have felt like, back when she'd been nothing but flesh, seawater, and stardust.
Dreamily, she leaned down to lap at the water. She didn't drink, but savored the taste of it. Limescale and seawater were present, of course, but it was fresher than the water from the shores. Cleansing, almost.
"Are we dead?" she asked, turning to the shepherd with a bemused expression on her narrow face.
RE: the protectorate of seelholm - Coelacanth - March 20, 2018
“Are we dead?” the motherless girl asked, and Coelacanth’s oversized ears perked in eloquent surprise. She stepped forward, and if Moorhen allowed, would bathe the girl’s face. When she was certain she had the banded seawolf’s attention, “No,” the sheepdog pantomimed with a slow, decisive shake of her head. How alive she felt! If the footing here was not so precarious, she might have danced for joy of it. She, too, felt a sense of safety here — connected to the island and the sea, imbued in sweet skymelt and the ocean salt. Her vivid eyes seemed particularly blue, the turquoise motes in their depths pulled to the forefront by the luminous lights from above. Her happiness was the only answer she could give the mahogany-eyed girl, and she turned her attention to the water with an eloquent sweep of her tapered muzzle. The light from above reflected on the surface below, and as she moved her paws, glowing blue enveloped her feathered limbs.
How good it was to be alive!
How good it was to be alive!
RE: the protectorate of seelholm - Moor - March 20, 2018
It was easy for the lamb to take her shepherd's word for it. She'd known already that this was good, they were safe here. That didn't have to be death. Together, and in easy, companionable silence, the pair continued to traverse the caverns. Slowly, the dark girl realized that it was not sleep or death that had led her to this magical place. She'd come to the island of her own free will, and the island had led them to its heart.
Hours of questing and playing and swimming later, the pair found themselves back at the entrance, visible only due to the crack of dim, greyish sunlight that filtered in from beyond.
"Sun is out," she said with a yawn, padding toward the light. The caves would still be there the next time they had a sleepless night.