Coconut Grove for you, it's been so long

Open — tagging @Rokig just for funsies.

Like before, the stranger was swift in his mental evacuation when it came to encounters; one moment he would be fully attuned to the situation going on around him, and in the next he's been transported as if by magic to a new vista, with little to no memory of what came before.

The rules of this space were so different from the dreamscapes he had survived — these strange fallacies which had galvanized his very being. Whatever had transpired between his removal from the plateau and this point, where the sand became dominant underfoot and the clouds billowed out to sea behind a plethora of prehistoric-style trees, was forgotten.

It was impossible for him to tell how long it had been since he'd seen a living thing, let alone recognize where he was. If Screech had ever been here before, there was no indication. The boy dragged Screech's steps until he could not fathom moving further, and collapsed in a heap of withered parts beneath a swaying palm.

He traveled the coast in an exploration for more fishing spots along with anyone else who might need saving. He was joking. Mainly. Mostly because he didn't know he'd actually cross another creature who kind of looked like they were dying. Although they didn't look great, they also didn't look as rough as Lainie had.

A frown cut into his features as he slowly approached the stranger. Per usual he halted a few feet away. Rokig allowed a soft wuff to escape him. You okay? He asked softly as silver eyes examined the crumpled heap of a wolf.

After the crunch of sand, there was only silence. Even the distant crashing of waves further north was blocked out; he sat there against the trunk of the tree and baked in the sun. The warmth was minimal - either because he lacked function, being an inhabitant of the body that carried him, or because the sunlight wasn't all that strong - but it was enough to bring a vague sense of comfort.

Then, a voice. It was static in Screech's ears, but the concerned tone made Screech's ears pivot, and the stranger lifted his attention - and the vessel - to meet their gaze, eye-to-eye. There was no familiarity and no verbal response, just a glazed expression. But the stranger noticed a faint scent upon the distant stranger as soon as the sea wind shifted direction, and there was a flash — a memory —

She only smiled with her eyes, and in a clear voice called out to him, Come, please, and he found he could not move. She tried again, slipping to her feet and dancing backwards, as if her fluid movements would entice him; he felt the need to stand, but still could not — Come home, she whispered, soft and wanting but not desperately so.

from here

But the stranger he looked upon wasn't the dainty, black-furred, spirited girl from before. This was someone new; someone that caused Screech's eye to focus, and his mouth to drop open with a small whine — trying desperately to speak, but failing.

Concern swept over his features and Rokig was suddenly getting deja vu. Perhaps he was actually cursed to keep stumbling upon wolves who seemed like they were on their last leg. Was he being forced to play the role of savior? Did he need to save two creatures to make up for the two Undersea wolves who had been so kind to him?

He sucked in a deep breath, eyes briefly closing until he heard the soft whine and was forced to open them again. What do you need? He asked softly as he crouched towards the sandy ground. Food? Water? Rokig knew that the ocean's water would not be good to drink but perhaps he could find something fresh, deliver it on a big palm leaf. He was also getting better at fishing which meant he was ready to provide something to eat if needed.

The stranger came closer; with it came the scent. Although he could not place a name to it, and barely a face, there was a clear relaxation taking place across Screech's body that even the traveller could feel. Something about this stranger told him, do not be afraid, and so he was not. But they were still a stranger and his perception still did not permit him to understand the words falling from their lips — a pity, as he was desperately in need of food and water.

The boy hinged Screech's mouth, resembling a fish out of water more than a wolf, but could not make a voice come forth. He didn't have the skill anymore — it was one more thing stripped from him, lost to the dreamscape. Maybe one day he would get it back (perhaps for good behavior?) but as things sat now, he was weak, sad, mute, and pathetic.

He wanted to beg for help — but the most he could do was lurch to Screech's feet, only to have the limbs tremble and the weakened husk of a body crunch against the sand again, unable to do much else. He was, ironically, on his last legs.

success determined by dice roll (click)

His gut lurched as the stranger stood again before meeting the ground again. A soft whine escaped Rokig. Take it easy. It was almost a plead for the stranger to not move more. The Tuttava could not imagine that falling like that could be very good. I'll, uh, see what I can do for you.

He moved towards the water as silver eyes scanned. At this point, hunting for fish was becoming a bit easier. Rokig had developed a bit of a pattern and style. It wasn't very hard to spot something and when he did he went after it. Jaws clamped around the fishy flesh. His pace was quicker as he brought the meal back to where the stranger should be laying (assuming he hadn't tried to get up again). He had half a mind to toss the whole thing to the stranger but that didn't seem too smart. Especially if he couldn't stand on his own or talk. Who knew what trying to eat a whole fish would do?

Rokig laid across from the silvery male and carefully ripped off a small piece of the fish before tossing it towards him.

its a good thing i havent had any customers today, because i let out a huge bark of a laugh when i read 'cronch' lmfao

They were there, and then they weren't; the hunger and thirst persisted but it was vague, like everything else, and as the stranger returned the airway wasn't dominated by the scent of the dancing shadow, but of fish. He did not know what to do about it.

Screech began to salivate; the wolf tossed a chunk of fresh meat his way, a fish head maybe or a piece of the belly slicked with blood. As soon as it touched the sand, the boy was leaping for it in a piranha-like fashion — snapping with such aggression that it would've been dangerous for the fisher-wolf to be any closer.

Grains of sand caught in Screech's teeth, muddied with the blood of the fish, but the chunk was voraciously consumed without thought — driven by self preservation alone.

Rokig was almost startled by how viciously the wolf gobbled up the piece of the fish's belly. He could only assume that to mean the stranger was starving or damn near starving. Once he was sure the creature had gotten the piece down (for he did not want to overwhelm the eater) he tossed another fatty piece of the fish belly — still small enough to remove most threat of choking.

If you can hold this down I'll try to find you some water. Perhaps digging under one of the odd trees would provide some drinkable liquids? If not, perhaps he could find a way to carry the male to the closest fresh water source he could find. His build was short and thick which left him rather could at being able to throw things on his back. Going back to water, though — there was the river but that was a way out from here and at that point he might as well have carried the male back home with him. Which...actually wasn't a bad idea considering the shape of the stranger.

He could only hope they wouldn't mind him bringing home another needy stranger.

He ate and he ate, finding no issue with keeping down these fragments of flesh. Maybe he had recovered over the course of the past few days - at least enough to make eating possible - but it likely wouldn't be long before Screech's body was too weak to even attempt eating. He would've been thankful for the assistance had he been himself; but the stranger couldn't recognize the value of food, it was the inherent need that the body exhibited which fueled his actions now.

Perhaps this was also why he'd assaulted the shadow, before. Raven's blood was a memory upon his tongue — a distant and fading one — but there was no doubt the Redhawks would remember him. This vicious traveller, this stranger who had found the vessel of Screech's body and tried their best to puppet it.

He ate, and he ate, and then when the stranger made to move off, he lurched and staggered after them. A hunger had been awakened within the boy; knowing now that the other wolf could provide for him, he wasn't about to let his fatigue get in the way of further consumption. The body was weak, but the stranger was desperate. In desperation, then, the zombie-like creature that used to be Screech Redhawk threw himself after Rokig.

He hadn't expected the stranger to follow him when he moved to a palm tree. Rokig kept doing what he intended to do, though. Although he'd be lying if he said he didn't throw a protective glance towards the stranger every now and then just to make sure no falling was happening. His paws dug around in hopes of finding the roots of the tree. Perhaps the rain would be helpful and have the roots be freshly hydrated.

The roots were strange but very obviously hydrated, likely thanks to the recent showers of rain. Try to get as much as possible. He demonstrated briefly and almost suckled at the roots like an awkward child before backing off with hopes the stranger could do the same. If he had been as hungry as a ravenous bear then he couldn't imagine how thirsty he would be.

Come with me? He finally asked softly although unsure if the words would be understood. If Undersea wouldn't take in a needy body then perhaps Rokig could keep him nearby and care for him secretively until he was better.

To say that Rokig was safe to turn his back was, obviously, incorrect. There was no telling how the stranger would percieve his new friend, no matter what they did to aid him. With a taste for blood lingering on his tongue it would not be so far-fetched to expect Screech to be thrown face-first in to Rokig, bearing teeth and ready to rend him to pieces as he had with Raven — 

in fact, the thought might've flit through his mind —

but then the stranger was giving instruction; he demonstrated an alternative use for those teeth, and as Rokig withdrew to give the stranger a chance, those teeth were being sent gnashing at the root system. The flood of water was enough to make him sputter at first — choking as he chewed — but he swallowed that fluid, and the plant matter, gulping and gnashing until there was nothing left but mud.

There was no reponse to the stranger's question — not until Screech's eye turned upon Rokig, and a pleading expression set itself upon the boy's face.

thinking we can wrap this up?

He watched — almost in shock — at how wildly the male gnashed at the roots. Whoever had taken care of him last had done a piss poor job. A frown cut sharply into his features. At least Rokig had been able to help out some.

The Tuttava motioned with his head to follow along. He'd stick close by in case the male collapsed again or needed anything. The journey would not be short but it also (hopefully) wouldn't take too long as well. Rokig did have a home to get back to even if he did yearn to help the one-eyed stranger.