Wheeling Gull Isle making my way downtown

Tagging for reference. ♥ Also, everyone is allowed!

The sheepdog had been dozing lightly, lulled into a dreamlike state by the nursing of Poppy’s children and roused by the quickening of her own. She blinked open her cerulean eyes to the sight of Mur wibble-wobbling toward the mouth of the den @Stockholm, @Moorhen, @Komodo, @Rokig, and @Driftwood had helped dig while @Reigi, @Hemlock, and Coelacanth had tended to the puppies. A stab of possessiveness and fear gripped her, but she knew her mate rested just outside the den and would keep watch over the tiny adventurer. Craning her graceful neck, Seelie smoothed @Fern’s feathery fur as the little girl stirred, having fallen asleep mid-feed. “Fern,” she whispered, her tufted ears sweeping forward upon her skull as, moments later, her mate greeted the little wanderer with his own voice: “Mur.” Feathered tail thumped the soft, packed down soil that lined the den. Lately, Seelie and `Io had been furnishing its confines with an abundance of calming herbs and seabird feathers, while Moorhen kept it stocked with bones and sticks that served as toys.

she stirred as she slowly drifted closer to awake and aware, but abruptly found herself both when sensation trail between her ears. gaze blinked open (still something to get used to, light and sight and opened eyes) and she offered a soft squeak as her only complaint to leaving the happy contentness of sleep, releasing the teat she held still in her maw. she had yet to gain the adventurousness of her brother, and it seemed the bi-toned pup would always be just a bit behind her brother in many regards. but her world was still young, and the future hardly mattered now; not when she had the capability to roll herself closer to Seelie and share in more of her warmth. attempting to wedge herself under a forelimb, she made it her sole mission to find more of that delightful warmth.

curiosity draws her to the densite. she's never seen infants before but she knows mama has been helping with them, and that's reason enough to deem them worth investigating. reed hesitates when she gets to the den, spotting the man by the den -- less out of fear she won't be allowed and more attempting to place his name and face. she needs to make an effort to learn the island's inhabitants; she needs to be more informed than at least maegi.

drawing herself up to her (still small) full height, the fearghal strides confidently to the lip of the den, in time to see one of the tiny bodies stumbling outside. the man ... whatever his name is seems to be keeping a handle on things so she shrugs and pokes her head inside, spying coelacanth, the strange creature that governs them, and another tiny body. "may i see...?" she asks (she may have an ego but she was raised to have manners.)

The sheepdog lifted her head to eagerly regard Reed’s approach, her sumi-e brush plume thumping heartily against the denfloor. After Mur was placed back within the shadowed confines, a telltale snoring from the cavernous mouth made her aware of Stockholm’s dozing state and she laughed softly, feathered forelimb adjusting to suit Fern’s wishes. “Reed welcome ever,” she breathed quite plainly, wriggling a little to afford the firebrand Fearghal a better view of Poppy’s legacy. “Small,” she commented, a pitiful conversationalist despite her well-meaning heart, “busy.” She beamed at the dryad’s daughter and added, perhaps a little mischievously,

“You and brother — once small, still busy.”

at last is her quest successful, and she finds herself lodged firmly between two spindly forelimbs. her sense of achievement fills her like the warmth of Seelie, a relatively new feeling for the tiny collie. for a few moments, she remained still and content, until she sensed some change in the light around her and made to focus on the den entrance, eye's wide as she attempted to process the colour and shadow, she understood slowly that there was something new at the den's entrance, and such gave a tiny trash and a chirp, but made no great effort to leave her position.

reed hadn't met the babies' mother -- the strange appearance of the girl takes her aback, her exotic coloring strikingly intriguing. perhaps they're like coelacanth, a strange, not-quite-wolf thing. speaking of her ink-mark leader, reed tilts her body towards her, listening to the breathed words. has she spoken to seelie before now? no, she doesn't think so -- when she was young the woman frightened her a little bit, her dramatic shape cartoonish enough to make her leery despite hemlock's obvious affections for her. now she thinks it was silly to have ever been scared by this delicate, kind creature. she looks down at the puppy again, a tiny smile stolen out of her by it's similarly tiny chirps. "busy," the fearghal's daughter echoes, thinking she understands what coelacanth means. "their parents?" she asks, knowing vaguely the circumstances around them but feeling a strange pull to know more.

Skipping Mur with permission. ♥ Murmission?!

“Busy,” Reed echoed, and Coelacanth’s feathered tail sketched a gleeful little scribble on the denfloor. A sorrowful expression crossed her delicate features at mention of Fern and Mur’s parentage; to comfort herself more than the babies, she smoothed her tongue across each downy crown, moving with the grain instead of against it so she would not ruffle young feathers. “Mother, Poppy,” she intoned slowly, her cerulean eyes luminous with unshed tears. “Dog.” A shift of slender shoulders prefaced her next point: “No father.” Of course, the children had a biological father somewhere — but Seelie was hard-pressed to know who it was or where he is, and wouldn’t have been likely at this point to give them back. “All Undersea parents, now,” she breathed.

the information the inkdog gives her is sad. sad in a way reed doesn't really know how to handle, as privileged as she's been in her upbringing. reed had never met poppy but she carefully memorizes the name anyway, feeling somehow it must be important for the two babes to know some day. "i see," she says, voice soft, dropped to match seelie's breaths. humming, she says, "then they're lucky," thinking of the island and its inhabitants -- who even reed wouldn't trade for anything, despite her short temper. smiling she adds, "they'll have me," the most important gift the island could give them, of course.

A soft, thrumming purr bubbled in the sheepdog’s throat as Poppy’s children fell once more into the sweet rhythm of nursing. Her feathered tail thumped; she was delighted to hear that Reed wanted to be part of Fern and Mur’s lives. Although the official decree was that the puppies belonged to all of Undersea, Seelie and Stockholm wouldn’t force anybody into roles they weren’t ready for. “To have you is lucky,” she whispered softly, nodding sage agreement. “Bright and shine, like your mama.”

coelacanth is soft and kind and so like mama in her infectious kindness that reed couldn't help but fall into loyalty to her and to undersea. reed deals in arrogance but that arrogances comes with her willingness to ally herself with those that suit her. seelie's agreement settles into her bones, warming her from the inside. especially the comparison to her mama, who has done no wrong in reed's young life -- really the only one worth aspiring to be like as far she's concerned. ever well mannered despite her vanity the girl smiles and nods, "thank you" spoken in soft tones as she peers down at the suckling babes.

Speaking of Fern and Mur brought another topic to mind — one that Seelie was both proud of and shy about. “Reed to follow Hemlock’s paws?” she asked gently, a furious whisking of her tail making her eagerness to please plain. She didn’t want to force the subject on the little firebrand if she wasn’t ready to talk about it. “Soon more guppies,” she explained, nosing at her swollen flank. “Reed welcome ever, play, talk.” She hoped that once her own children were earthside, Reed would come to visit often, and play with her little brothers and sisters. The next sentence was harder to admit. “Please talk my babies?” she begged in a silky susurrus. She would never be able to reach the same degree of fluency as her fellows, and she did not want her children to befall the same fate. There were so many stories and songs she wanted to share with her babies, and it was painful to admit to herself — and more painful to admit aloud before this small, fiery girl — that she never could.

fade soon? :3

"yes," the titian fearghal answers proudly, her fur fluffing up with the words. her eyes follow the swell of aralez's belly as she confirms reed's assumption of babies to come -- and her request makes the girl swell once more, always pleased to be recognized for what she has to offer. the full implications of coelacanth's request miss her -- she does not yet have the empathy to intuit how seelie's struggles with language could be a source of conflict within her -- but she does not need to fully grasp the situation to sense the genuine desire in the question. "of course," she promises, her expression a mask of solemnity, "of course i will."

Something gripped Coelacanth’s heart and twisted painfully, leaving her unable to entreat the girl further — but that was all right, because dear Reed was already acquiescing. Fern and Mur had burrowed against her side and were beginning to still, the ebb and flow of their little lungs slowing and evening out. Seelie smiled up at Reed, her Neptune eyes glistening and grateful, and Hemlock appeared in the doorway then to exchange a few pleasantries with Stockholm and to call softly to her daughter, “Reed, I’m going to tend the gardens. Do you want to come?” Seelie had never known the girl to be indecisive, so she doubted the girl needed any pushing either way — in fact, she gathered that pushing could potentially send the girl pushing back in the opposite direction! — but she did her best. Slim jaws pulled in a long, slow yawn as she curved her graceful neck and tail around the babies, intimating her own intention to nap. Reed would have probably decided to do this anyway, but Seelie was grateful when the little firebrand acquiesced to go with her mother, dimming the denmouth briefly before disappearing from view. Without lifting her head, the sheepdog offered a fluting whine to her husband, who padded over to curl beside her.