Stavanger Bay the melancholy waters lie

Ixchel had scoured the coast for miles and miles, and weeks and weeks. She searched for Axolotl, but each time their paths might've crossed, the face of fortune would turn away from the whitecapped she-wolf, and she would miss him by thin margins just as she had on the island. She had thrown herself haphazardly into the task, telling no one of her departure and never returning to them with a progress report. It had become a temporary obsession; a side quest she'd undertaken to distract herself from surges of wild insecurities that she worked tirelessly to keep hidden.

But her hunt had been fruitless, maybe purposefully so. She never strayed too far from the sea, but her internal compass instinctively reacted to the shame she felt about returning to her beloved, Coelacanth. The blackbird would forgive her— she could already see those billowing true blues shining up at her— and Ixchel was not yet prepared to be cleansed of her sins. Her behavior these past few months had taken her down a dark path of compulsion and loneliness, creating a slightly hyperbolic version of herself; a creature more feral and passionate than before.

The calico stalked along the sunless bay with a purpose behind her long strides. The moon cast her in an eerie light, and sounding off in the backdrop of her jaunt were the near-distant saltwaves, making for a resolute ambiance of slow, cold, undeniable power.