Gilded Bay first night, first day

Perhaps a @Mnemosyne or @Leiagore? Backdated a few days. :D

Her movements were graceful as she danced upon the flowing tide, a joyous ritual with no point other than expressing her appreciation for the Sea and Her gifts. Meteora was relaxed, savoring the cleansing breeze as it flooded her nose and lungs— and though she was a creature of moonlight, the warmth of the sun was a gift in itself during the colder season. The journey was difficult, and the Nereides often solemn, but in this moment the would-be Matriarch allowed herself the freedom to let go and feel the full extent of her happiness. Protomedeia had entrusted an important mission to her, and the Mothers had sent her a positive omen in the presence of Tartok. They would succeed; she was certain.

He watched her dutifully, but from afar. There wasn't a single part of Astraios that wasn't grateful for the presence of the siren, that wasn't fully devoted to her and their shared way of life. It was all he had known. All he could recall, anyways. He watched her dance with the surf as a child might watch an older sister, or a son gazing fondly upon a mother — nothing lewd, either way. The dampness of her fur cast her limbs with different shades. The gaiety in her eyes, the expression of her love of the Mother Sea, these were things Astraios cherished in his silence; he would be nearby if she had need of him, but knew when to hide away and give her moments of privacy. She was beautiful to him, and no amount of spite flowing from atop her tongue could erase that.

She left @Mnemosyne to roam the far side of the bay as she and @Florence left for the shore. No doubt she'd catch them up soon enough, but for now a reunion of the two parties was all that Leia anticipated. Sure enough, the honey-eyed initiate watched with relished relief as her respected Siren danced among the waves that rippled and hissed like voices around the legs of Meteora. She'd known the very breath of Mother Sea had clung to the pelt of the silver wolfess, and to go as far as saying she could see the very words she spoke was a claim that she herself was not afraid to fantasise.

Like the hawkish guard she was, she had often listened to Mnemosyne and her spiritual preachings and to say she was interested would've been an understatement of Leiagore and her aspiring abilities. She was always one to favour the ferocious loyalty that came with being an Amazon; her mother had taught her well in that department, yet to be rawly exposed to such intellect drove her to learn more. Meteora was her idol, the one wolf with such incredible balance that she herself admired and aspired to follow. She knew that to become equal with whom she already viewed as her Matriarch would be an impossible feat, and for now she willed herself to approach with respected caution.

"Meteora," she spoke as she neared her figure, shoulders lowered and tail a string of slight movements as she settled herself in the sand. The enslaved she took no notice of, her full focus on her leader rimmed with controlled excitement.

Fading this in favor of newer/more active threads.

His gaze upon her put the she-wolf on edge, but with a strong exhale she released her ire into the Sea's embrace. It was symbolic, of course— Meteora was not quite so literal in her interpretation of the faith as others, but she appreciated the metaphors and comfort they brought. It was better to dance here, joyously in the Mother's embrace, than allow her anger to interrupt her appreciation for the deity. It was lucky, too, that the voice of one of her followers broke the silence.

"Come," she invited the other, at once forgetting the male that watched. Together, the sisters would dance— Meteora teaching the younger, bonding in their joy. For the Nereides were not all bite and bark; they could love, but such emotions were reserved only for the blessed. After a time, when their sides were heaving from the exercise, the pair would return to the others with Astraios lagging a respectable distance behind.