Wheeling Gull Isle lovely

@Komodo

It was not often she strayed from Yakone's side.  She did not remember much about THE DARK MAN now, for foggy were her memories around the time the collar was removed.  But she remembered that he was dangerous, and that he had hurt her.  She remembered that she feared for her children.

He still reached her even on the island, and combined with Indra's lasting impression, Reigi almost never sought company.  Still, she felt the need to contribute and to be worthy of what the Shadow had offered her.

Today, she pulled from the den under the peak sunlight hours and allowed her brilliant russet coat to soak in the warmth.  For once she felt good, refreshed even, and she put herself to work marking the borders.

Komodo, unlike Reigi, had been going out of his way to be around others. He worked to greet new members, and to fill the caches, and to firm up their scent claim upon the wooded parts of the isle. Very few of his waking hours were spent doing anything beside praying and doing his duty. Komodo did these things because he was Vedmak and it was his job, but also because he harbored a very real sense of guilt for the happening with Coelacanth. He did not like the energy exchange that had happened between them, and he certainly did not like how it lingered and festered — in fact, the two hadn’t spoken since that day — but the angakkuq would not let his absence be noticed in any area but his physical presence. So, he took care of the island so that the little sheepdog could focus on her pursuits, whatever those were, and he did it whether or not she noticed his efforts. 

Komodo was marking the island’s borders, and he soon came across the woman who was doing the very same thing. He had met her once before and found the newcomer to be quite a curious thing — nameless and voiceless, as Coelacanth once was. The man was no stranger to having a nonverbal, canine counterpart, so he chuffed to her in greeting and sought to mark the borders in tandem; the woman looked particularly bright that day, and it drew him forward.  

It was the dark, coffee-coated man who drew her attention in the heat of the day, coming 'round the bend of the island as if the whole earth belonged to him.  The way he carried himself, maybe it did.

Never before had the raven so much as offered an inkling of submission towards another (aside from Moorhen when it had been demanded of her), but the virile Vedmak drew forth an appeasing whine from Undersea's freshest Tauhou.  She watched his approach with caution — a result of THE DARK MAN, of her husband — but she was quick to remember that he had taken to her well enough.

She drew her tongue across her lips before licking at one of the Earthstalker's flews, darting to and fro to mark alongside him.

omg why is this so rusty

Having empathetic tendencies, Komodo was a good read on energy. He noticed when the silent one whined and held back, and he noticed again when she overcame such reservations and greeted him kindly. The earthstalker gave her a grin, happy that he was no longer surrounded by starving, waifish things. He was a healer and medicine man at heart, so these things all appealed to him — but it was still nice. “How’re yew?” he questioned, figuring this was easily answered with nondescript movements, actions and body language… though he did not expect that from her. 

same ugh

Thankfully for Komodo, Blondine's accent had prepared her for the way his tongue slowly rolled, vowel-heavy, the rumble of his voice.  Her tail beat quickly in response, a delighted yip punctuating the air.  

She wheeled around the earthstalker, taking several jack-knifed turns before her energy had been expended and she moved alongside the Vedmak, occasionally brushing against him so their scents intermingled and someone she hadn't met yet thought she was doing something bad, like trespassing.

Komodo and Reigi marked the borders for some time — not entirely silently, either. Komodo communicated with his words, as gravelly and slurred as they were, almost as if he had several alcoholic beverages prior. Probably a near whisky, or wish a splash of coca-cola, sipped quietly in a corner. The silent one — Vennine, or something? whatever Moorhen had said — communicated with her movements. This, Komodo was fluent in. He blamed that vixen of an inkblot for that. Without much fuss, when the job was completed, they two parted and the angakkuq felt better, lighter, for having finally made a positive impression on someone.