Sequoia Coast your heart is like the ocean, mysterious and dark

she awoke, feeling as though she had been thrown around; her head throbbed, and her nape ached. when her eyes opened there was blackness, and deirdre was infinitely aware of all that had transpired once again. she froze, no longer supple and soft in the arms of skellige but frigid. deirdre had slept deep into the night, and soon the sun would rise. for now, the moon was just beginning to prepare its descent and o'erhead, the stars twinkled. she moved her muzzle out from the crook of his chest gently, so as to not startle him, and checked to see if he was awake himself with curious eyes.

[table][tr][td valign=center] [/td][td]

 
The wraith’s affinity with the ocean was enough to keep him awake through the hours of the night while the pale woman slept in his chest. The gentle rising and falling of her body was relaxing to him, as was the lapping of the waves as the water stretched out to meet him. He had known nothing but peace when he was there, by the water, and he could not have imagined his life anywhere else. The brute did wonder, though, if the green-eyed witch was as fond of the swell as he, or if she simply had remained there to humor some of his more intense obsessions.
 
Once the girl began to stir, Skellige blinked himself from his trance and glanced down to meet her gaze as she peered up to him. His expression was the same as it always had been: stern, intense. Still, he noted how the warmth in her expression seemed to thaw the chill of his heart and he pressed his nose to her cheek before pulling away with a ghost of a smile lingering on his dark lips. “You slept for many hours,” he breathed quietly.
 

[/td][td valign=center] [/td][/tr][/table]

[table][tr][td valign=center] [/td][td]

deirdre was watchful as he drew near to her, though did not flinch away from his touch or otherwise shirk from his proximity. her emerald eyes were soft and tired; she had slept and dreamt of the highlands, of green and green and green. its earthy musk and its flowered perfume that melded into the perfect aroma that enticed her, and always would. now she lay before the sea, in the arms of its greatest monster, and she let out a quiet sigh as he spoke. but the smile she sensed there eased her worry that she had kept him from something, and the youth pawed at him affectionately. too young to know of the way of the heart and to feel any stirrings other than her childlike wonder of him and her idolizing adoration of her knight in shining armor, deirdre thought little of their continued nearness. 

it was then she realized she did not know this mans name. it made little difference to her; she had her own names for him--savior, seawolf--and yet, she wondered what his given name was. i did not mean to, she said in earnest. it was difficult for she herself to smile, truly, after all that she had gone through... but her voice no longer shook, and the threat of tears no longer seemed so near. you... you stayed with me. her head tilted ever so slightly as she observed him, her eyes tracing the harsh lines of his face until they drew back to the molten shade of his eyes. i am deirdre. deirdre stella mayfair. it was overdue, and yet it felt right, that she should speak her name to him now.

[/td][td valign=center] [/td][/tr][/table]

[table][tr][td valign=center] [/td][td]

 
 
The woman’s gaze roamed over his features with a certain care; even the touch of her green gaze was gentle, and the wraith could not understand how she had found herself in his company and willing to stand him. Yet, it seemed that she was surprised that he should linger in her company after having witnessed her unceremonious attack from the thin-legged stranger. The limp tail still sat in the sands, forgotten for the time being by the two wolves. The quiet push and pull of the shores had calmed the great titan down from his former rage, and though he was still irked by the occurrence, Skellige knew that there would be no means of tracking the creature down to finish the job. The coywolf had vanished with – hopefully – no intention of returning.
 
Fixing the girl with his dark gaze, the beast listened to her speak as though he had not heard her voice in ages. Though she was not the happy little pearl that he had recalled from their swim in the sea, she still managed to inspire a spark from her eyes. When, at last, she introduced herself, the dark wolf was not certain that the name was fitting of her. He furrowed his brows and trailed his eyes along her face in search of some familiarity with the name ‘Deirdre’ and after a moment or two, he simply accepted it.
 
“I am Skellige Cairn,” he returned with a slow nod of his head. This had been the second he had spoken his name, though it felt far more monumental that the pale woman knew it.
 
 

[/td][td valign=center] [/td][/tr][/table]

[table][tr][td valign=center] [/td][td]

deirdre had been named for two great witches; one who was unable to live her life so, though who was also effortlessly powerful, and the latter who wielded her power and was free from the command of any. deirdre was never opressed, and was free to be the most powerful of her name. for one so gentle, so sweet, deirdre was a fitting name--and stella, another named mayfair witch, was fitting, too. for deirdre was unabashed, free, and open with her adoration, unafraid and happy with all she had been given. there was no curse upon emeralds in donnelaith! and she possessed them, as surely as stella had, and deirdra had, and antha, and all the others! liberated to be, to not burn. perhaps lashers greatest successes were those he brought into the world.

his name came, and it was harsh, fitting. skellige, she spoke in her witches voice, as though to bless it, skellige cairn. a very strong name, deirdre hummed this, and a thin smile came to her lips then. i am truly glad to know you, and to see you here. her words were spoken in earnest, and despite the fragility of her expression, 'twas also real. thankful, she was thankful. how is it i can repay you? you have taught me to fish, and now, you have saved my life!

[/td][td valign=center] [/td][/tr][/table]

[table][tr][td valign=center] [/td][td]

The woman repeated his name and he listened to the gentle rolling of her tongue against the foreign sound of it. Each person had spoken his calling in a different manner, but this pearl of a woman had used her voice so reverently it had nearly taken him aback. She remarked that it was strong and he nodded his head once in confirmation. “My parents had great hopes for me; I was their child of War,” he spoke in words that were laced in pain, and the knitting of his brows became tighter. He had been born to do the great things that they had not been able to. Skellige had been designed simply to bring death to those who sought to take the islands from them. When he thought back on his childhood and his upbringing, it made sense that they would have favored Ksenia. Her beauty and composure was unmatched by his savage appearance and cold demeanor.
 
Shaking the thought away, the wraith found himself surprised to hear that she was glad for his being there… just to know him. How could someone so good find themselves pleased with the presence of a murderous titan? The image in his mind of the two wolves was almost foolish. She was the light and the good in the world; a healer of those who were injured and a caretaker to all. He was the dark. He was the specter in the night; a shadow of death. How could such a foul beast bring any semblance of joy to her world?
 
“I seek to claim the bay beside your forest,” he explained to her in a drawling voice. “I would wish that we could coexist without war or destruction. Ally yourself with me.” His face was intense as he spoke these words to her and he found himself wondering if she would think him mad. “Surely you will rule in your home at some point. Though you are young, they must see potential,” he continued. Though it drove him to sickness, he could see this girl very much like his own sister. She was perfectly fit and easily molded into a leader. “Let us rule together.”

[/td][td valign=center] [/td][/tr][/table]

[table][tr][td valign=center] [/td][td]

her head tilted at his words. 'war'. constantine had informed her of such a word; it worried her, that he was a child of it, and yet she wondered at what exactly this meant. she knew from the sound of constantine's stories she wished war would never touch donnelaith; that it would be a world unto itself, that the spirits might protect it from the view of those that set their sights upon it. and she adored this man--she detected no true evil in him, seeing his heart was rife with goodness. he had saved her, twice over!

as he spoke of his intent, deirdre looked to him with patience and intrigue both. was she so surprised? this man was of the ocean, of course he would lay claim to some part of it! and who better to do so?  who more fitting than this rugged man beside her, kingly in each and every gesture? the hefty man beside her would see the measure of her youth as she wondered at his words, wondered at the exact meaning of them. she had much to learn--she was not a woman privvy to politics and policies, yet. and yet there was promise there.

donnelaith is a sacred place, she murmured to him, there is great magic there, and i protect it as it protects me. i am a witch, skellige, her eyes looked to him, wondering if he might believe her and yet feeling that surely he would. i have prayed for the earth to return, and it returns. when that man came, i prayed for aid--first came lightning, then came you. the spirits are with me. donnelaith is a place of peace-- she observed him, licked her chops laden with salt crystals. a place of worship, safety, and healing. i want no war, i want no destruction. i would not have donnelaith touched by any of these things... her emerald eyes wanted to see him heed this, heed her conviction. if you could tell me that donnelaith itself would be untouched by this... nothing would make me happier, for deirdre did not understand the depth behind his words, the meaning of what, exactly, he asked of her.

still, she was not finished. his words had spoken to her heart, had summoned a secret she had not known existed. i do not know that i would rule donnelaith, though one day, when i am of age, i would wish it... she looked skyward, and tilted her head. i do not know that any others would. wish it, i mean. no one has spoken of potential to me before... the flowers and the creatures and the woods knew her as intimately as she knew them. but who else but the forest itself would see her seated on its rooted throne by the sea? and yet the seed was planted. the question yearned to bloom from her lips, and she thought of aria, of osprey, of eilidh, of constantine, of lucani, of dante, of tachyon, of renoir, and of her cousin, rowan; what would they wish? what would they think?

[/td][td valign=center] [/td][/tr][/table][/small][/align]

[table][tr][td valign=center] [/td][td]

The brute listened to the pearl as she spoke of her home and of how much the safety of the pack meant to her. She confessed to him that she was a witch, and he drew his brows upward only slightly out of sheer surprise. They had also had witches on his islands; Warsaw was home to witch doctors. They had been able to enact rituals before battle to send their warriors out with the blessing of the sea and the predators within. They had given each child an animal totem from underneath the swell. Skellige could recall quite well the ceremony of receiving his own spirit beast. The animal was meant to inspire them and guide them through their lives. Skellige had known his destiny when he had been granted the spirit of the great white… he had been made for destruction.
 
Wondering if the Donnelaith wolves also shared a similar custom, he listened to her without speaking for the duration of what she had to say. If this woman was to have taken an animal of the ocean, he was not certain that he could have known. The witch doctors of Warsaw were frightening creatures; they had always caused the fur on his spine to bristle at the sight of them. They wore the skulls of other creatures and fallen victims; should the Cairn children do well in battel after a blessing from the witch doctor, they were rewarded with a trophy from the final kill. Many bones lined their dens, and they had always been an eerie folk. Skellige did not imagine that this Deirdre was anything like the witches of his home.
 
She did not want war to touch her home; he felt his heart sink inside of his chest. War was inevitable, he was certain. Should they try to expand their territory and seek land nearby, it would not be something that the other packs would welcome. Already, Skellige was proposing a contract that would make them targets for attack. Should the wolves of the wilds see that they had formed a dual pack, ruled by two leaders who had a relationship beyond that of mere partners, he could easily see others knocking on their door in search of that prosperous land. Still, he did not believe she would agree if he were to tell her that war might fall on their lands anyway. So the wraith held his tongue.
 
“Your pack does not groom its children for specific tasks?” he inquired to her with a confused expression on his face. “I would hope that they see your potential in spite of this.” For she would make a just leader. Just then, the brute thought to make the power of their combined packs even greater. Should the healers want to live and learn in Donnelaith, they would take up rank there under the pearly witch. They would learn the ways of the healing art and if they were prone to it… magic. The warriors would come to him on the bay. He would show them the trials of the waves and the water below. Skellige would rule over those with bloodlust in their hearts, Deirdre would craft the caretakers.
 
“Would you teach your magic? Your healing powers as well? Are you well versed in the way of healing from the waters?” he asked her, finding himself growing hungry for the thought of what they could have; an empire like no other.

[/td][td valign=center] [/td][/tr][/table]

[table][tr][td valign=center] [/td][td]

his query was met with the gentle shake of her head. and then, with a puzzled look on her lovely countenance, deirdre tilted her head and asked, do you know your queen or king when you see her as a babe? do you raise one and think, 'it is this spirited one that will lead us'--what if their heart turns sour, and their intentions turn cruel? that had not happened in donnelaith, but she imagined, too, why it had not. perhaps now she could ask the wolves of donnelaith their thoughts on her ascending one day with their teachings. would they think her fit? deserving? would they cast her aside and forget the legacy of lasher in favor of the ones who lived yet? and could she begrudge them that choice? 

that he saw potential in her caused her to lift her head some, as she had once seen her father do when greeting a stranger. deirdre was only now becoming intrigued by hierarchy, only now learning of what spirit rest within her and its dreams. you believe i have potential? she breathed, her tail thumping lightly against the earth. she wondered what her father would think of all this, what her father might have wished were he alive. his recent loss burned still, and her tail beat no more... it felt terribly wrong to feel so happy so soon. 

his next questions came, and deirdre smiled warmly. perhaps i could, if someone had the power. it is not a thing seen in many, i am told. but all can be taught the magick of healing! and i would teach any willing to learn. there are cubs in donnelaith that i will be mentoring one day, she grinned at the thought. and after a beat, she answered, without herbs, i used the saltwater and the seas greenery to heal you. do you know of more ways? 

deirdre waited a moment and looked away. she then let out a little sigh. i could not bring such things up yet. my father, he has just... it would hurt, to talk of... to make it... as though his passing, the only important bit that came of it, meant only who would next take his place... there must be a ceremony done for him, to remember him... she drew in a sharp breath, and looked upward at the large sky. ah, there was that sadness. it had found her.

[/td][td valign=center] [/td][/tr][/table]

The pearl inquired about his culture and the way that children were chosen for their tasks. "We are made for specific tasks. At a young age, those in the Cairn family are given their roles in our society. We are assigned our spirit creatures and they bless us with their power. But first you must survive the drop ," he said to her. The drop was made when they were old enough to walk. The children were taken to the cliffs and dropped into the sea. If they swam and made their way to the shore, they were believed to be worthy. If they did not, then they became part of the ocean forever. Skellige's children would endure the same ritual. As would all children in his pack. 

"You remind me of my sister," he said bitterly. Because he cared for this girl and he did not want to find himself drawn to memories of her, but her question of potential warranted the response. "She was born and raised to lead our home pack. She was destined to rule. I see that potential in you." His broad shoulders shrugged after the remark. She could take it for what it was. If she should inquire about his sister, he would be transparent about his murder attempt and their current relationship. He did not like Ksenia; he knew that he would shed her blood and wear her pelt as his crown. It was decided by the spirit inside of him and so it would be. 

Once she asked about the options for healing, the brute drew his ears forward and frowned. "I had a designated healer and I can recall some of what she did. My younger brother Szymon is a capable healer though he was forced into the role of a Titan. He could teach you though... more than you may know," Skellige offered. He wanted his plans to work. He wanted to grow their packs into something incredible. With her help, they could forge an empire. She just needed to be certain of their alliance and that she could step into a role of leadership. Without that, they would not thrive. 

A sudden sadness overcame her at the mention of her father and he gritted his teeth together, unsure of how to show sympathy. "We do not have to discuss such things if it bothers you," he finally spoke and moved his muzzle down to plant his tongue against her cheek in a soft gesture. The loss of a parent had never occurred in his life, but he did not believe it would rattle him the way it did her. She was still young, though. She would see more travesty in her time on earth. 

[table][tr][td valign=center] [/td][td]

she was interested to hear of his culture, and listened raptly. it was utterly different from home and how she was raised. though she was taught what could be learned of the craft from a man who was no witch himself, she was forced into no role. she was given choice, and she felt this important, felt it necessary. though a part of her felt as though things were meant, she could force none of that if others were unwilling. donnelaith was her heart; she would not wish to displease any of them, if they would not have her...

and yet, there was a fierce part of her that wished to have it! 

still, she was unlearned. she had potential, but had she the true skill? deirdre listened as he spoke on his sister, surprised by the tone in which he spoke. he did not seemed pleased nor proud... she knew not how to define the voice in which he spoke in, having never heard it before. perhaps we are born for things, she spoke, quite keen on the idea, but my parents raised me to be who i am today. my father raised me to make my own decisions, to forge my own path, to be the best that i can for myself and for others... my mother raised me to be independent, to aid others, to always be kind. she took a breath, and looked to him. i would choose this alliance, still she did not know he meant to make her his child bride; she did not know the depth of his feelings, nor the depth of his intent, but i would have you teach me what you could--and i would see if donnelaith could one day see me as they saw my father, my mother, and in turn be taught by them. for they were both leaders before her. but the beauty was very young, and had much to learn! 

at the mention of his brother, deirdre's eyes widened. your brother, he is here? all the while noting that his tone, when speaking of the boy, was not what it had been when he spoke of his sister. i would love to learn! deirdre had a thirst for learning and the acquiring of knowledge, and though the world had darkened significantly since the loss of her father, she detected light here, felt hope. as he spoke of not needing to discuss these things, as he drew forth to press his tongue against her cheek, she leaned into him fondly. to the cub, this was all innocent. he had saved her, and her psyche was drawn to him and implicitly trusting of him. 

it is very soon, to talk of these things. it... it was more painful a wound than the one gluskap had inflicted upon her. i do not know that any would support me. what if it is my sisters wish? my brothers dream? not  to mention the wolves at the helm. what if her friend osprey was not warm to the idea? what if her dear aria did not wish to see her become queen when she was of age? the future frightened her as much as it excited her, then. i want to be ready... she whispered, lowering her head to her forelegs as she shifted her body to a more comfortable position whilst still ensuring their furs mingled. her inability to finish the statement simply begged him for time to mourn, time to adjust. she peered to him beneath her thick lashes, sighing.

[/td][td valign=center] [/td][/tr][/table]

[table][tr][td valign=center] [/td][td]

The culture of his homeland was something that would remain ingrained with him for the rest of his days; it was a culture that he intended to share with the wolves he allowed into his pack. They would be asked to uptake the nature of the Warsaw wolves and he would be the one to show them. The task ahead of him was massive, and there were times that the daunting thought of it was too much for the wraith to bear, but he was fueled by the anger in his heart. The banishment had left him a sour beast, and there had never been a time in his life when he had felt more like the spirit that guided him. The ocean was his hunting ground, and those who trailed into his path would fear the very ground he walked on.
 
But this soft little girl from the forest was something else entirely. She was good and kind, and she had a heart that spoke for the wellbeing of others. The great inky titan did not think that she would be so readily willing to strike the alliance with him. She was young still, though, and he knew that there was a large chance she did not fully understand the ties that would bind them together. They would have time to explore that later, he imagined. Without any sense or reason to it, Skellige had become something of a shadowed guardian over the green-eyed girl; watching out for her where others intended harm.
 
While she spoke the way she had been raised, his ears drew forward and he listened with confusion etched on his stern features. It did not make sense to him that a child so pure could come from a background of minimal structure. When he reflected on the light of his own upbringing, he realized that they were built on opposite platforms. Skellige had been raised on brutal work and the makings of a monster, but she had been forged by the light of a gentle hand and it had blessed her with a quiet innocence. Doubts began to stir in his mind at the thought of the alliance. Surely, the other wolves of her pack would want to turn him away from their borders as soon as they caught sight of him. The only thing he had to offer would be the protection of the sea and the bodies of his members. Surely, this would be enticing enough to consider. Nevertheless, he could feel a nervousness growing in his gut like a quiet thunderstorm.
 
“My brother is here… now,” he breathed in answer to her inquiry. It was good to know that Szymon was close and that Skellige was not left without the helpful hands of his siblings. The contrasting young pup had always held a soft spot in the titan’s heart. Szymon had not been meant to be born on the warring tides of Warsaw. He would have flourished in the upbringing that Deirdre had been offered. “I’m certain you two will meet,” he then concluded with a sure nod of his skull and a quick half-smile that soon vanished.
 
It was a time to mourn for the pearl; though Skellige could not empathize with her for the loss of her father and the seeming loss of direction, he could still offer his shoulder to her. “What was… your favorite thing about your father?” he asked uncertainly, eyes flicking toward her face. It was a sad attempt, but lord he was trying. If she could recall the fondness she had for him, perhaps it would help her to move on. If she did not wish to speak of the dead any longer, that would just as soon suit the titan. He had taken many lives in his time, and thinking of them only turned his stomach sour and put his mind out of ease. He had only been doing what was tasked of him; he had been fulfilling the destiny he had been born into.

[/td][td valign=center] [/td][/tr][/table]

[table][tr][td valign=center] [/td][td]

i would like that, she hummed, her tail twitching at her sides. it was something to look forward to, truly, in these dark and trying times. she had come to love skellige at a rapid clip that held too much energy to be stopped; it would never be rendered into a state of inertia, but would be always moving. her love was young and innocent and sweet, tender and true, as was her open admiration of him.

he spoke of her father, asked a question, and her eyes slid mournfully to the massive mans paws. it saddened her to think they would never meet, and that it was she who might bring this to donnelaith instead of he. everything, she admitted in a sigh. he was a voice of reason, always. when i needed him, he was there. his presence. his being. his way. everything, she repeated softly. he is still here with us--he watches us now, i imagine. or perhaps he watches emaleth this moment, my sister. it is different... and though she would get used to it, there was a part of her that fret over that very aspect. such a terrible thing to tolerate.

she nosed his paw softly, peering at him still. what are the things that make you happiest? a welcome distraction, to know him more!

[/td][td valign=center] [/td][/tr][/table]

[table][tr][td valign=center] [/td][td]

Skellige listened to her voice as she spoke of her father and he realized that she had cared very deeply for the man. The picture that she painted of him was noble and kind, much like herself, and though it was a wicked thought to have, the inky brute found himself understanding why he had passed. It never was the awful creatures of the world who moved on before their time; it was the good and the right. Though he was no longer around to rule the home he had claimed, he had created a beautiful daughter who could carry his torch for him. And Skellige would let nothing happen to her. The pearl spoke of her father as though he were still there, with them, and the titan did not want to tell her that she was wrong.
 
He had seen the life leave the body of those he cared for and those he had little thought on. The wraith knew that nothing remained once the soul had been lifted from that which housed it. The look on her face was that of hope, though, and he could not find it in himself to tell her that she was wrong. It would do very little good to start an argument so early on, after she was attacked and her father had been stolen from her by the very clutches of death.
 
After a moment or two of hearing about him, the dark creature smiled softly and nodded his head. It was all he could muster without opening his mouth and allowing the harsh truth to spill from his leathery lips. What she asked of him next was a question that took him by surprise altogether. What made him happy?
 
The smile vanished from his mouth and his brows furrowed tightly over his dark eyes. The cogs in his mind turned slowly at first, but once they could not come up with an answer for her, they began to spin faster and he felt something in his gut that had not been there before: distress, melancholy. Breathing a sigh, the wraith looked to the pearl and shook his head. “I don’t know,” he answered her honestly. The timbre of his voice had the softest sadness to it. “The ocean, perhaps,” he ventured, but even then, he was not certain that the waters brought him happiness as much as they brought him a sense of comfort… to be around something that he knew. Perhaps the sea king did not know what happiness truly was.

[/td][td valign=center] [/td][/tr][/table]

[table][tr][td valign=center] [/td][td]

she saw the sadness there, and it was this truth that held her. dark and terrible and sad. he spoke of the ocean, that perhaps this might be his happiness, and deirdre felt terribly distraught. for he was lost, as she was. and so she rose to bring herself closer, if such a thing were possible, to embrace him and hold him.

it feels as though there is no such thing, came her frail words. when the curse came, it took so many of the things that have made me feel at all, her friends, the flowers... i hope to show you happiness, if he did not know it, he would. all was not lost. things felt bleak, but the earth was returning. her father was gone, but his spirit lived on. none could tell her otherwise. some spirits moved on to nothingness, she would agree, but others held on, and her father had stayed. she knew it to be true. it was this thought that fueled much of her motivations: the youngest daughter he had ever known, seen, touched, and loved would make him proud!

[/td][td valign=center] [/td][/tr][/table]

[table][tr][td valign=center] [/td][td]

The woman stirred from his side, and the inky titan did not move to stop her; if his answer were to have displeased her so greatly that she was forced to leave him, then so be it. There was little about Skellige that would allow for him to lie; his candidness was gruff and brutal in nature, but at the very least, he did not paint an image of falsities. A savage brute, but a man of his word. If it was all he took to his grave, at least he will have been more than his own father. Just the thought of the man left a bitter taste in the eldest Cairn’s mouth, and he hoped to push it away.
 
Her touch roused him from this thought process and he shuddered underneath the embrace of the smaller female. Looking to meet her face with his own, the statue in the sand allowed her to draw herself toward him and speak her words of hope. She wanted to bring him happiness, for she too knew what it meant to have that taken from her. Though their trials were different, and he had seen things that would have turned her into a detrimental version of herself, he would not compare his own war and hardship with her own.
 
“Perhaps you will,” he rumbled softly into the tufts of her ivory fur. He had been wrong before, and he could be wrong again.

[/td][td valign=center] [/td][/tr][/table]

[table][tr][td valign=center] [/td][td]

perhaps you will. the great perhaps. what was inevitable? and so she would pursue that perhaps, make it into a thing they could both see and feel. she moved to rest on his solid shoulder, her muzzle sliding over the coarser furs of his salt-rimmed furs. inconspicuously she began to preen at it, near-possessive in the movement. truly, this shoulder would be made into her own she had decided, so it must be made comfortable for her. i will be happy again, she promised herself, the activity a distraction, numbing to her mind in its repetitiveness, and he will know what it is to be that.

[/td][td valign=center] [/td][/tr][/table]