Sea Lion Shores bonafied lovin CHROMEO

bijou stood along the wrack line, peering out across glittering waves.

in the distance stood an island. hale as she was, she would not brave the current to investigate. by judging the barely-visible moon, and the way the water bounded high above the water, bijou estimated it might be several hours before low tide.

if she waited, she suspected she'd find a temporary strait. with nothing to do but wait for the tide to recede, bijou studied gulls that came and went in small droves along the shore.

Kigipigak wanted to be on his way back to the valley because someone had to do it. It wasn't like women were lining up at the Watch for betrothals. Well, except for Chanel—except she was there to be Valmua's best friend forever, whether the firebrand knew it or not.

This time around Kigipigak followed the coast line; he knew of the constraints around his travel, placed upon him by Stjornuati, so he would tempt fate and go as far as he could. He knew of the dark woman (Umbra) and the tribe that was trying to settle with the surly woman at the helm, so he kept himself alert to signs of that bay; he had many miles to go before it was in his sights, though. 

As the pale creature ambled along, sniffling and snuffling at the sand, Kigipigak did not notice the vagrant standing nearby; he almost passed them by entirely before the wind shifted and a gust of their scent hit him in the face, brick-like.

along the pale sands a white figure moved, much like a seacap among stormy winds. bijou watched the traveller warily, a smile hooking her features that he might pass her.

that smile faded as he became aware of her. caught in his sightlines, bijou couldn't even have hid herself if she tried.

her gaze pulled back to the sea, briefly. considering.

she might allow him to approach her, or she might not. much like the winds her will was capricious, and she had yet to make up her mind.

He would not be able to stay too long. Yet the sea was calling to him, asking him to come home, little brother in the sussuration of its tide; maybe he would be happier in leaving the Watch and fending for himself. 

Maybe Umbra's people would welcome him, and Kigipigak could live his life free of Stjornuati's judgement and Valmua's spinelessness. But then he would not truly be Tartok—

His mind was heavy. He did not immediately notice the wolf-shape despite the scent flooding the air, somehow unified with the gutted fish smell that was so pervasive in these places.

Kigipigak snorted a breath through his nose and cleared his throat, moving towards the wet sand as the water retreated, ambling closer to where the woman stood—at least he thought it was a woman; they were leggy and sharp, at any rate.

a few short seconds was all it took for bijou to make her mind.

the male came close, revealing a scar which tore above his lip like a fissure. bijou wondered after that scar -- who was the progenitor, what was the circumstance, and did that beast still walk earthside?

that alone saved the snow-furred brute from a bijou-spun end; he was interesting, for now.

she swung to face him, regarding him with shard-glass eyes that held little kindness. the floor was his, if he wished to speak -- and if he didn't, bijou might suddenly be inclined to find his presence interesting no longer.

She shifted a bit, attentive to him to a scant degree. Kigipigak held her attention but was not sure how to utilize it. He was on-edge, knowing he had tread a little further than what he was alloted; but at the same time he wanted to tell Stjornuati off for attempting to reign-in his tendency to roam.

How could he do his job if he was thusly distracted? He turned his attention to the water at the same time the woman glanced at him; he felt her beady eyes lingering a while on his face. Kigipigak thought, 'So what if Stjornuati does not approve of my methods, we needed the numbers. Perhaps it is the men that he fancies.'

The fur along the boy's spine began to prickle; the mantle of white across his shoulders felt suddenly very heavy. 

Kigipigak needed a distraction—so out of nowhere he blurts at the stranger, You like what you see? He was not sure if he felt spotlit in that moment or not, angry at Stjornuati or angry at the presence of the stranger with their staring eyes, but for whatever reason there was an edge to his voice.

not so long ago, it had been bijou to prompt a snowbound stranger if he liked what he saw. today the roles were reversed, and the irony both delightful and as unpalatable as supping stormwater.

bijou's brow lifted. "no." her voice unflappably calm, devoid of anything except assurance.

crowlike, she turned her head to the side and traced the long scar which made its brand across his broad face. "who did that to you?"

She denied interest; her voice was offered airly, emptily, but she did not turn away. Kigipigak snorted. He could find only ocean smells around her and little else, though he was not really looking for anything. It told him she was a vagabond—and he was intimately jealous of her freedom.

Who did that to you? she asked. Those dark eyes followed the curve of his lip and beyond, to where the crooked scar tapered off of his cheekbone.

A stupid boy who started a fight. I ended it. He answered—being purposefully vague. The truth wasn't far off from that but it was something of an amusement to Kigipigak; he wanted to sound mysterious and impressive to the stranger, as if he had a life to be jealous of in turn.

must've been a wicked boy, to leave so pronounced a mark. bijou's gums curled in the briefest of smiles.

"you must have been a boy yourself." the seafarer remarked, wondering what it was that possessed him (and other beasts of this beach) to allow wolves so close. kiss or kill distance was called so for a reason, and bijou never allowed herself to fall into a position where she was forced to fight for her right to breathe. "how did you end it?"

He did not like the look upon her face. It was a smile, sweet almost, but hardly innocent. Something malicious sat beneath the surface; Kigipigak wondered if he was in the presence of a piinilak.

What lurked within her depths?

As she drew closer Kigipigak's shoulders tensed. He watched the way her body shifted, making no effort to hide the way he scrutinized her movements; comparing and contrasting her against Valmua in his mind. This woman was a raggedy wild thing, different from his bond-sister, but brought the same fire to his belly.

I ground his face in to the stone of a cliff, as he described this Kigipigak forgot to be wary of her, thinking of the boy beneath him and the way he had struggled, the triumph Kigipigak had felt. His chin tipped up ever so slightly, prideful.

there it was, a sound chiming under the sussuration of the waves --

did you hear it? the gentle bound and pulse of blood under that proudly lifted chin -- the way his pale fur glittered as it moved imperceptively, bound by the lifeblood which flowed like a current just under his skin --

bijou blinked and all manner of expression fell away.

"ground his face..." she imagined the scene; a half-caved in skull with brainsplatter upturned like gristly soup. darkening red, collected around him -- his chin lifting ever so proudly, doused in scarlet.

savagely elegant.  "it sounds beautiful."

Beautiful. It was not the word he would have used to describe the scuffle; but this woman was odd, so he accepted the decree with a smile and set aside his misgivings. A twitch of his lips, a blink of his eyes.

She was still staring—now at his prideful bearing. Kigipigak did not follow the stare to its intended target, the crux of his throat, and instead focused on the good feelings her praise left in him.

At least someone valued his contributions... Even if it was merely a story. It was a tiny stoke to the fire of his ego, but it was enough. 

I have other stories... He had not shared the best one with anyone, not in detail, holding it close to himself as a singular pinnacle of triumph. He watched her carefully, seeing his pale shape distort in the blackness of her eyes. There was a man who I fought, who now lays dead, barely worth his salt.

Kigipigak's loyalty had been on a rocky foundation. This woman was simple, so far as he could tell, and she was appreciative of his story, which was more positive reinforcement than he had gained from Valmua or Stjornuati. He found his foundations beginning to crumble, as stones might beneath the constant stroking of the tide.

like all men, all it took was a little praise and this one brimmed to the hilt with growing confidence. bijou watched the transformation idly, eyes flat while her face pantomimed what pleasant interest was supposed to look like.

a little dash of engrossment to make it look extra authentic: what kind of stories would he tell, if he knew what she was truly thinking?

"violent boy you are." bijou purled, thinking of what that saltless man must have thought in the last moments before his life was bled from him. "do you kill often?"

It was thrilling to be noticed—even if he did not trust those dark beady eyes set in to a raggedy girl's face, or that coy smile that bordered on disengenuous, Kigipigak wanted to be noticed and wanted to have his ego stroked, so he ignored the warning signs present across the rest of her.

Only when I have to, he remarks cooly, thinking he sounds mysterious, like a Bond villain. I had the unfair advantages of youth and sanity, so it was not exactly a difficult feat. It had been difficult though; Auktuk had not been as far gone as Kigipigak had been led to believe.

He could still feel the ebbing pulse of the man's carotid as if it were held in the grip of his teeth, could feel the warmth of that life fading to an ember and then to cold, and he grew distant as the memory distracted him. Sometimes in his worst dreams his father would come back to fight with Kigipigak—in the morning he would wake up in a panic.

only when i have to sounded like a remarkably unchaotic delineation to bijou.

was not half the fun delving into the unpredictable? many times bijou had been prompted to explore something, simply because she did not have to, or did not know the end result. life, as she found it, was intimately discoverable -- so long as one set pieces into motion.

"the gifts of youth are often lost among those that hold them." bijou remarked, her voice soft as she gazed now to the stormy beachfront. "are there many of you?"

She spoke as if she were many years older than him, when in reality he had a few months on her. It wasn't much of a difference either way. If anything Kigipigak was socially stunted because of his more feral upbringing; if anything could prove he did not fit in to the world as he knew it, it had been Stjornuati's reaction to his attempts in growing their number.

Four or five, he remarks, unsure of the truth. The trio of siblings, Chanel, himself—there were other scents occasionally ranging throughout the ravenhome, but he did not know them.

Speaking of, Kigipigak looked over his shoulder back the way he had come, wondering if anyone would take notice of how far he ranged; briefly distracted in his thoughts, he paid little attention to the woman or the gathering clouds over the sea.

bijou had been afforded a stable childhood. in turn, it made her perspective ever so different than one who had spent its early life clawing simply to survive.

she followed the male's glance up the coast. it did not bode well for her that he had a following. they would notice him missing in short order, and in this dry weather his tracks and scent would be visible for days to come.

some other time, then.

"are you a pack, or a group of wolves roaming?"

An ear pivoted when she asked her questions. A moment later he glanced at her again, this time some of the fire having died out of his spirit.

We are claiming the high cliffs of the mountain. The way he spoke, Kigipigak was a little grim and troubled. At least that is the plan my brother wishes to follow.

If Kigipigak had it his way—ah, but his way had been found out and destroyed, so he had to play by the rules of the brothers. It all went against his own understanding of how the world should work, thus the resistance.

He will be a good leader. Kigipigak's faith had begun to wane.

a single question was all it took to douse the fire which danced in her companion's gaze. bijou's attention turned to him in full, parsing from his speech and mein that a shadow had overtaken kigipigak's pride.

she hooked onto it with interest. "you do not believe that which you speak." bijou remarked, thinking this one a terrible liar. his voice was troubled, which was reason enough to pick up on his doubts. bijou, however, was markedly gifted in picking up the subtle nuances of others. "do you believe yourself a better leader than your brother? or is it something else that's got you?"

The girl is quick. Kigipigak sighs softly through his nose and draws his tongue across his teeth, as if to remind it of its cage. Given a moment to think — and the opportunity to voice his grievance to an impartial party — Kigipigak could not hold back on speaking his truth.

I do believe they are strong. They are not alone, though, as they have a... Sister. In my tribe it is traditional that a woman hold the power over all. We decided to work together so that she could rise to power and were caught. It had been stupid. A plan filled with folly. It is not power that I wish for myself. It is power for her. Or, it... was. Kigipigak was undecided.

when bijou had first met this man, she marked him as another prideful beast with too much male ego -- but the more she learned of this winsomely scarred creature, the more enthralled she became in the picturesque artefact that was his very interesting psyche.

piqued by the mention of women in power, bijou scarcely held back the way she learned forward intensely. women in high places? that was interesting to bijou.

"caught by whom?"

He had lingered too long here, and he knew, because she had more questions for him; there were details that Kigipigak should not have shared, but he had been somehow lulled in to complacency. Her continued queries made him want to withdraw a bit—and he looked away, seeing the whispy lost-eyelash of a raven's silhouette circling overhead; they had noticed the wolves communing here and wondered if there was a meal.

My leader. I.. Should go. He will notice that I am not at my post, which wasn't the entire truth either. Kigipigak did not have a role yet. He was on house arrest. Should you find yourself in need this winter, look to the cliffs, maybe. If I am still there I will vouch for you, as thanks for listening to me ramble. With a dip of his head Kigipigak moved from her company slowly, intent on finding his way back to the ravenhome before he could indulge Stjornuati's suspicions.

even bijou was observant enough to see their time had come to a close. a mask of disappointment covered her features, as if saying oh no, stay just a moment longer? we have only just met! a mask she wore expertly, none the less.

it would be to no avail, she knew -- but where was the fun in wearing your cards on your sleeve? "good luck then, violent boy." bijou straightened to her full height, a smile wearing on her lips as she bade farewell. "kill well and often."

she did not expect an answer. already they were departing.

bijou was certain she would see this man again.

in fact, she was certain she'd make it so she saw him again.