Kerberos did not particularly like toting his memento around with him every where, the salty tang of the seaweed was enough to make him salivate around the swathe which cradled and protected the precious pearl within it that hung between his jaws, likely, comically. Yet, he would never risk burying it. For one, there was no guarantee he would be able to find his way back, and two he did not wish to initiate temptation of a curious creature looking for a free meal. Though the pearl was worthless -- it served no purpose to any creature: it could not be eaten, it could not be chewed, it was little more than a pretty decoration -- it was priceless to Kerberos who guarded it as he guarded his heart; with careful precision. The lingering taste of the delicacy of the sea merely served as a temptation. It took effort not to eat the seaweed, the urge of which was fought nearly everyday. If he ate the seaweed…what would he use to carry his gem? Other leaves would not do. Pieces of the Sea or protect the gift of the Sea. To Kerberos there was nothing that made more logical sense. Willfully, he ignored the temptation and carried on.

There was a certain degree of disorientation that accompanied being in foreign lands. How easy it would be to get lost…not that, admittedly, Kerberos had much of a specific path in mind. He only knew that here, where ever, exactly, here was, where Atka wanted him; and Kerberos was devoted unquestioningly to Atka and the Sea. Kerberos believed in loyalty. Loyalty to faith, to home, to family. It was early morning when the Aok boy rose, groggily to his paws, shaking the sleep from his head, bright sea-green eyes closing as a yawn overtook him. Scooping his package up he continued forward, hesitating when he found himself in what he thought to be hot springs. He could feel the damp heat twine through the tendrils of his sand colored fur, frosted with dried salt water that he could not bring himself to wash off. Hesitantly, he pushed forward, careful to avoid that water that would give him an unwanted, fresh water bath.

The sooner he got out of the damp, suffocating heat, the better.

There had come a point, sooner than Kerberos would have liked -- though when did things ever go how they were expected to? -- he had to pause, feeling the heat move through his salt water frosted fur as heated fingers, and gingerly set his precious (tokio had a lord of the rings moment, ngl) cargo at his paws, so he could effectively let out a loud and heavy pant. The expel of heat from his body was relieving. Though this should have been something he was, some what, used to for there were always those moments when the beach was humid and damp from a summer storm the night before; but he wasn’t. Kerberos was aware that this ‘rest’ was eating up valuable traveling time, but it was still early. Not to mention, it wasn’t as if he had a specific time frame to follow. He had no where to be. While this felt quite bizarre to the Aok boy, he chalked it up as a learning experience provided by the ever present and watchful Atka. It was not the loneliness that bothered Kerberos. On the contrary, he was used to solitude. He liked solitude. His social skills were still a severe work in progress and traveling alone, such as he’d done since he’d said goodbye to the Bay, let Kerberos fall back into a comfortable pattern. Breaking out of his shell had been….painful, forcing himself to be a social butterfly, to be more than a shadow; because even the solitary Kerberos wanted to be seen and (on occasion), heard. Claming back up (so to speak) would be easy but did he really want to let all his progress be for nothing? No. Too much effort had spent breaking his mythical, shadow like existence. He was no longer Kerberos the “crybaby”, nor was he Kerberos the “weak”. It was Atka that had lured him out of his shell, obviously, she expected him to continue with his progress. He was like fixing a broken car -- he took work, patience, and love. Some days, he was stubborn and set in his ways, but he would accomplish it. Because she was nurturing him too. For her.

A noise, soft carried along the rising tendrils of steam, broke Kerberos out of his train of thoughts. Startled, the Nereides-Kesuk Aok boy peered around him, frosted hackles the color of wet sand bristling with uncertainty. Bright, sea-green eyes saw nothing, and Kerberos had just managed to convince himself that it had been a bird flying over head, or the squeal of a rodent, when he heard it again. Louder, this time. Distinguishable as a whine, canine. Ears trust forward atop his skull as a shadowy shape became visible through the steam which worked to veil the Greek’s vision. Ears slicked back to half mast atop his skull, as Kerberos ghosted forward a step, dithering upon his internal hesitation. Regardless of the progress he’d made, Kerberos still hadn’t exactly (at all) broken himself out of the ‘Do Not Speak First’ rule he had somehow established as a child. It was hard to force himself to do such now, akin to him trying to knock down a skyscraper with just his body. Atka, however, was the ever helpful wrecking ball, the Bear God giving him a spiritual nudge forward. She did not speak to him. She needn’t. Her message was clear enough. Help,

“H-hey!” Kerberos shook off the barbed wire of tension that constructed around his lungs. “Hey,” He tried again, grateful that he did not stutter a second time. “are you…okay?” Kerberos inquired.

Helpless was not something that Kerberos liked to feel; it was a dreading, horrible feeling watching something happen knowing that there was nothing he could do in his power to stop it. He had experienced it when he was mere two months old -- though he remembered very, very little of his life prior to Shearwater Bay -- he had experienced it when Nanuq had left the bay, had felt it grip him when Lecter had taunted him with the truth of his parentage (though Kerberos was insanely glad that Lecter did not acknowledge him as a son). Helpless was what Kerberos felt as the other boy came into view. He was the color of pale silver, patterned with charcoal freckles -- unusual, in Kerberos’ mind -- but it was his eyes that had drawn Kerberos’ fascination and intrigue, despite that he was sure he was being rather insensitive. They were milky, and Kerberos understood within the next few fractions of seconds that he was blind. Sea-green eyes moved to stare at the other boy’s nose as he babbled an apology about trespassing. Kerberos’ ears slicked back to sit at half mast atop his skull as he peered around and behind him, fairly sure that he wasn’t trespassing. He had not scented any pack markers that he could remember. “Uh you’re….we’re not trespassing. This is free territory,” But now that it was out there Kerberos could only hope that he hadn’t been so inattentive.

The other boy seemingly then crumbled to the earth, tears streaking his cheeks as they slid free. Kerberos drew a paw back in hesitation, fighting between the urge to offer what little comfort he could as a stranger, or calling for a medic -- not that anyone would likely hear the call. Kerberos seemed to be stuck in a limbo status. What exactly was he supposed to say? He had no idea what was causing the other boy’s sorrow, and thusly, could not necessarily sympathize when he was utterly clueless. “What are you sorry for? There is nothing to apologize for,” Kerberos spared a glimpse down at his paws, lips forming a contemplative line before he stepped over his seaweed wrapped possession, assuming that it would not be stolen or move anywhere while he had his back to it while he attempted to see if he could be of any…help to the distraught boy before him. “D-don’t cry, ok? I, uh, I’m Kerberos. Kerberos Aok, or Nereides, or Nereus, or Kesuk, or whatever.” (Nereus was added because Tokio remembered males didn’t take the Nereides surname but Kerby wouldn‘t know that) He introduced, tail giving a soft brush against his haunches, frowning at his own indecision on what to call himself. It made him sound unsure of who he was -- indeed he was all of them, and…none of them. It was confusing and complicated and left him with a headache when he tried to think too much and too hard about it.

Kerberos ghosted forward another step, head bowing slightly to bring his face a little more level with Yildun’s. “What happened? Are you hurt?” Kerberos was no medic but he knew a couple of little things, though the Aok boy was unsure if this was a physical issue or an emotional one; and he would only know if Yildun chose to share, which he had every right to tell Kerberos to go away, if that was what he wanted.

While the mental breakdown of this stranger was, well awkward, for Kerberos, who was still an extremely reclusive being -- he was honestly working on fixing that --, Kerberos could sympathize. That heap of crying pain had been him, once upon a time. Kerberos had moped about for many months after he’d been taken from Aktaie. Of course, Kerberos had been very young at the time, but he told himself that the age of the bearer of the pain did not matter. The point was, Kerberos had been in pale boy’s paws before -- many times over -- and he understood what it took to bring you, literally, to your knees. Of course, understanding what it felt like did not, to Kerb’s immense disappoint, lend him the correct words of comfort to use in attempts to console. A name was given, though this did not seem to ease the other boy’s tears any. Yildun. When Yildun continued to introduce himself something shifted within Kerberos then. A sort of shock that seized hold of him at the verbal confirmation that the other boy was from Seahawk. And while Kerberos had never been to Sterrenevuur, he had, of course, heard of it and it’s leaders. “You’re one of Liyano’s sons’ aren’t you?” Kerberos asked in a soft whisper, ears rotating back to the half mast position he’d sort of adopted for this situation.

“I’m from Shearwater Bay -- well no, that isn’t the truth,” Kerberos corrected, Lecter’s hissing words of truth surrounding his birth. “I was born to the Nereides…but this is totally irrelevant, isn’t it? I’m Nanuq Kesuk’s son. …One of them, anyway.” There. That was all that would matter to Yildun. Much simpler than the confusing story that was Kerberos’ past. Which was surprisingly dramatic and complicated even though he was only a year old. A soft sigh of remorse escaped Kerberos’ leathery, black nostrils when Yildun confessed that it was his parents’ death that was the cause of well, this. “I-I’m sorry Yildun. That’s - that’s hard, man. Nanuq didn’t die -- at least I don’t think she did but, she, uh, she left my siblings and I. I’m sure that she had good reasons, I mean Atka and Sos…to disobey them is…well, like treason,” Kerberos was aware he was rambling (and that he was making excuses because the truth was he didn’t know why Nanuq left). “I guess, what I’m trying to say is…maybe the Stars whispered that it was their time to depart the physical world.” Kerberos, if he remembered correctly -- given Yildun’s emotional state he prayed to Atka that he did -- was fairly certain that Sterrenvuur had some sort of star worship (or maybe something similar) going on. It felt like a good thing to say, at least.

“I think of deceased loved ones, how I think of the Great Bear Gods -- Atka and Sos; they aren’t there -- not really. You can’t see them,” Kerberos fibbed a little on this because he would catch translucent glimpses of Atka, shivers of a massive white beast -- not often but he did see her -- but that wouldn’t aid in what he was trying to accomplish. “You can’t touch them…but they are there. You can feel them, you can hear them whispering to you on the wind, they are with you. Parts of them live on in your memories. They exist apart from you now but they are not gone, Yildun. They, like Atka and Sos, are infinite.” Kerberos clamped his jaw shut, eyeing the other boy weary-like, unsure if he was actually helping or just making it horrendously worse. Kerberos' intentions were good, but time would only tell if they were being perceived as such.