Wheeling Gull Isle amongst the whales and the waves

@Coelacanth?

Komodo had been around — he had only become a little reclusive. A man of many passions, he put as much effort into seclusion as he did his customary conviviality, when he wanted to and when he was prone to it. It was always around this time, when mercury was in retrograde [ugh, the worst], that he found himself pulling back from others. He took to the cave nearest the center of the island, and brooded silently.

Alone here, he couldn’t help but muse upon how the little sheepdog had gone and taken a mate. Though her mate of choice was of the highest caliber, there was an interesting twinge in the earthstalker’s gut whenever he saw the girl cosseting and caressing the gampr. It didn't happen often, and he didn't really like it.

Komodo was not a man without faults. He has always been predisposed to jealousy  — jealousy of those who were better shamans, who could heal incredible wounds and glimpse visions that Komodo could never even dream of seeing; jealousy of different worldly cultures, and of those whoever’s life might seem more colorful at whatever time.

He wouldn’t say he was jealous of love or others' relationships per se, but he certainly was possessive of the women in his life [as he had been with aria, and the Corten twins… and Coelacanth, he now realized]. Now there were boundaries with the inky ingenue — and the brute had never done well with boundaries, anyway. Well, whatever they had been to each other, the dynamic had certainly changed and, somehow, the angakkuq understood that it was for the best. Their preferred lifestyles were not in alignment, not with her wishing to colonize the island once more, and he wishing to fall back into his cyclical habits of leaving, and then coming back, and then leaving again, and then coming back again. They were too diametrically opposed.

Even still, certainly with Undersea reformed, Komodo felt confident that the alpha pair might produce a litter — and Komodo found himself profoundly sad that it wasn’t his. Ultimately, however, Komodo was able to put the thought to the back of his mind. He focused his efforts on prayer and sacred dedication and found himself easily consumed by the fire of it. The prospect of obtaining more devotional supplies was what had pulled him from the cave that crisp early spring morning. The world was already buzzing with signs of life, awakening from the winter which crept ever-so-slowly into retreat; he loved it, and felted warmed by it [even though it was, for all intents and purposes, still very cold out].

The brute made to canter in the direction of the nearest beach, to see what the generous oceans had belched for him that day. When the currents warmed, the pelagic jetsam was at its most interesting and to pilfer through it was a real treat. Just the other day he had found a smooth nub of driftwood, and then a starfish — both had been stolen back to the cave and tucked away. As such, with ears and tail alert, he guided himself across the beach with his coal-tipped snout flush to the sands, seeking out anything and everything that interested him and might be of value as an offering to the gods.  

Moorhen was returning from a long swim, the muscles in her powerful legs alight with the pain of exertion. Salty water dripped from her water-darkened pelt, and white sand sparkled like string of pearl around her ankles as she rose from the waves, the picture of youth and vitality. In reuniting with the Shadow, she had regained something denied to her since birth. And, nurtured by the Shadow and her mate, the girl quickly began to flourish upon the island. Her pelt had grown thick and shiny, her eyes brighter, and her already impressive form had unfurled a few further inches as she finally reached her full adult size.

Moorhen was happy, and it showed in the clean, youthful lines of her face.

... until she caught sight of the man on her beach and immediately began to bristle. "Um!" she challenged, tail raising above her hocks. "Who?" she barked, quickening her pace despite the burn in her legs to close the distance between herself and the man - with the salt in her nares, she needed to be far closer to detect his scent, and she would not be standing for any funny business while she assured herself of the legitimacy of his presence on the island.

Nine days without Amoxtli, and Coelacanth had already lost weight she could ill afford. Entrusting the safety and wellbeing of her packmates to the other members of the Council, she had allowed herself to fade into the background during her period of grieving, but enough was enough. She and Faeryn still owed Constantine a visit; Hemlock and her children still needed support, both corporeal and incorporeal; Stockholm, Komodo, and Moorhen were still here, with her. The world still turned, and honestly, Seelie still wanted it to turn. What would her beloved twin, the other half of her soul, think if he saw how stagnant she had become? What would their papa think?

This time when the sun rose, Coelacanth rose with it.

Tenderly she bathed the face of her mate, feeling something strange and electric at the contact — but she deigned to let him sleep, striking out for the Strand with purpose in her stride. What she lacked in enthusiasm, she more than made up for in dedication, and although her eyes were sad, a genuine smile flitted across her delicate features at the sight of the Earthstalker and her lamb on the beach. Moorhen was a beautiful young wolf, the bold markings on her ribs a striking throwback to the first Leviathan of Blackrock Depths, and as water-loving and fierce as her bloodline decreed. Though Coelacanth worried about how the occasionally prickly angakkuq might react to the Cairn’s characteristic forwardness, she made no sign of it; her gentle visage was the very picture of serenity as she drew nearer to observe but not quite near enough to intrude.

He was not alone for long. The beaches had always been a communal place for him, having been the very location of Undersea’s conception and his introduction to the wolves who would play such a significant role in his life — he supposed it was the same for his fellows upon the island, as the beach was one of the more interesting and ever-shifting places upon their tiny home; but moreso for him, Komodo thought. So when there wall an indignant greeting and a bristled girl upon him, the earthstalker was more interested than he was offended. He maintained his position and stance, perhaps allowing his ears to lift a higher and his tail to arch taller ever so slightly, with several different implied questions held within his heavy gaze, such as who are you and really?. They didn’t know each other, but Komodo assumed that if she so carefully guarded the island, then she was meant to be here. 

The brute espied a hovering Coelacanth, holding herself around the scene’s peripheries. Further emboldened by this, Komodo trod forward and met the foreign girl in her approach. "Komodo,” he bade her kindly, deeply. “an’ yew?”

Moorhen let out a snarl as he moved closer, more to warn him against any aggression than to warn him away. Her own stance tightening in accordance with his, her head coming up and her shoulders bunching when he drew near. She had not yet caught sight of Coelacanth. If she had, it might have relaxed her somewhat.

As it was, she merely bristled at the man, glaring distrustfully as he introduced himself, and expression of unimpressed puzzlement crossing her unfriendly features. "an-yoo," she repeated dubiously, her tone demanding explanation. It had clearly been a question and not an addtion to his name, but she was hard pressed to place or understand the dialect.

Moorhen’s snarl did not alarm the little Groenendael. She was accustomed to the prickly urchin’s ways and loved her all the more for them. Coelacanth believed staunchly that the seawolves would settle naturally upon the koa wood rungs of Undersea’s hierarchal ladder without interference from the Council, but she also sought to clear up misunderstandings and smooth ruffled feathers when she could. She stepped more plainly into view with a glad, tuneless “bark” and paused, feathered tail waving eagerly. “I am happy to see you!” bespoke the delighted crinkle of her eyes, the patently relaxed set of her shoulders. She lifted her elegant head, but it was only because she was tiny and excited to see them — the canid’s equivalent of, “What are you up to? Can I join?”

She considered explaining the Earthstalker’s query but believed it would be better for Komodo to do it, as befitted the natural flow of the conversation — after all, he had taught Seelie almost everything she knew about elocution! [Author’s Note: I keep reading this as, “…after all, he had taught Seelie almost everything she knew about electrocution!” and it is doing me a big funny.]

literally no one in Undersea can speak properly, i love it

 
The banded girl bristled like a mountain cat, which caused Komodo to strengthen his resolve and harden his stature. Certainly, this girl must know that he was supposed to be here — and if he hadn’t the knowledge of who she was, then why was she so defensive? The situation was a little absurd and so ungrounded in logic, a rule that Komodo rarely played by, that it almost concerned the roan medicine man. Maybe the girl was sick, and that’s why she was here… Coelacanth had a tendency to do that. 

Coelacanth joined them and seemed unperturbed by the strange girl’s many assumptions, so he figured perhaps he hadn’t heard her. “Ah am Ko-mo-do,” he annunciated clearly, making sure that each word was fully pronounced and touched each part of his tongue. Hopefully the man left enough space between his words to be understood independently of one another. The angakkuq knew the tonality of his rollicking voice was sometimes hard to decipher; and he truly had no clue how he had become this way. After so many years on the road, he supposed he was just an amalgam of every voice and every accent he had ever encountered.  With a bit more effort, he repeated the two words in question, carefully rounding out the final consonants and vowels. “anD, yOU?”    

Tacking on a little conclusion here. ♥

Moorhen was mollified, but still not totally convinced — and definitely not in the mood for a language lesson from the Earthstalker. Sensing this, Coelacanth nosed reassuringly at her lamb’s cheek and then eased forward to bridge the gap between the seawolves physically as well as communicatively. Whuffing invitation, she alchemized their awkwardness into something resembling productivity. There were caches that needed tending and borders that needed marking, after all!