Ravenshook Cliffs The days are no longer my own

@Dubloon

After waking by Colt's side, Niamh made the decision to revisit the cliffside where she'd found Towhee, just to see if his body had washed up, or if the ocean had claimed it. Part of her wanted proof that he was dead- she wanted to see his town, smashed up body being picked apart by gulls- just so she could satisfy a tiny, nagging voice that had been dogging her, insisting that unless there was a body, he could possibly have survived. It was too unlikely, she told it- but still, the thought remained, quietly simpering at the back of her mind, waiting for any bit of doubt to allow it to grow. 

But that wasn't the only part of her life that had succumbed to some small feeling of doubt. As she pulled herself from Colt's side, she looked at him for a moment, and moved forward to place a kiss on his cheek, as she usually did when she woke up- but why bother? Did he even want her to do that? Or was his lack of reciprocation a sign she was supposed to interpret as a quiet way of saying 'sorry, I'm not really all that into you,'? She refrained, and left quietly, leaving him to sleep in past the sunrise. 

By the time she got to the cliffs, those doubts had grown- both aboutb Screech and about Colt. She wasn't even entirely sure she wanted to return that night, just to see if he missed her. She needed some sort of sign from him that he cared, aside from the fact that he let her stay with him. But was that just a formality? Did he do it because he pitied her? She roved along the cliffside, gaze cast down along the rocks where the waves crashed, searching for any sign- a promise that she could at least lay one of her doubts to rest.

Sorry for the delay!

Whether he had become a member of Ironsea of not, the pirate knew he couldn't stick around any place for long. He wanted to see the sea again. He missed it dearly, and even though he could've marched a few paces across the beach for the same effect, Dubloon was also an explorer in his heart. He challenged himself to the task of finding the highest point from which he could see the waves crashing, and with that pursuit in mind he left the territory and began to investigate the surroundings.

A few hours of toil later, and he came upon the ragged coastline, listening to the boom of the waves against the cliffs. As he explored further he found the landscape shifting beneath his feet; he tread across the rocky terrain with some struggle, but found himself at the edge of the world before too long. The ocean winds were stronger here than anywhere he'd ever been before, and as they whipped at his dark coat he grew further enamored with his beloved ocean. 

A moment later, he saw something curious. There was a figure port-side to his location, and they resembled a shining cascade of light across the foam of the water. He chose to investigate without thinking and confidently closed the distance, hollering across the cliffside: Ahoy!

Her gaze remained downcast, roving along the cliffside and across the rocks which were continuously splayed with the white foam of waves. Had his body fallen down onto those, there was no way he'd recover, right? The mere thought of falling from the cliff caused her to shiver. He should have fallen and been so broken up by the rocks that surely, he would have been unconscious, and drowned as the tide came in. She couldn't see any way that Screech could have survived- especially if Towhee had inflicted as severe a wound upon him as she'd said. 

But then again, stranger things had happened- and she could not lay to rest the feeling that somewhere, somehow, Screech's damn body had survived the entire experience. She wouldn't believe he was dead until she saw his body for herself. 

She was awakened from her reverie and search by the sound of another wolf calling out to her. She couldn't help it when her reaction was to bristle and bare her teeth, looking up to see a lone male wandering toward her. Great, some other dude to ruin her day. One had almost killed her alpha, and the other one wouldn't give her the time of day. Of course, she was exaggerating- but she was feeling a bit spiteful and downcast, all things considered, and was highly skeptical that another guy could cheer her up. "Ahoy yourself," She responded, "Or whatever that even means." She said. She felt guilty for her moodiness almost immediately after she responded, and it showed on her face. But her stubbornness kept her from apologizing.

Dubloon wasn't usually a very perceptive person when it came to women. He had a mind for fighting, raiding, and maybe even leadership if he could find the right crew — but the interpersonal drama that accompanied women was never worth it, in his mind. He could tell by looking at her that this lady in particular wasn't native to the coast; she seemed to be in an emotional state, and wasn't calmed by the presence of the sea. It helped when she responded too, because that was a dead giveaway he was dealing with a landlubber — but that was okay, he could roll with it. A part of him was already blaring warning signals and telling him to back away slowly because somehow, he knew he didn't have the space in his life for a moody lady — he had the sea, and she was moody enough for him — but Dubloon didn't always make the best decisions.

Aye, yer not from the coast then, he voiced his thoughts, presumptuous and to the point. He shook the salt from his coat a moment later, finding satisfaction with the fluffing of his find dark coat (and possibly trying to peacock for her, who knows). The man looked her over with a deliberate eye, although not a lewd one. She seemed to be healthy and fit, even boasting a golden coat the likes of which he had never seen before — she looked like shining gold and he wondered (thankfully not aloud) if anyone had plundered that booty. Get a grip, Dubs.

He wasn't leaving yet. She hadn't given him any reason to, and it wasn't like anyone could lay claim to the sea or chase him away from it. So he loitered, and eventually commented (against his better judgement), What's a fine-lookin' lass like yerself doin' all the way out here, then? Not thinkin' of swimmin' with the fishes down there, are ya? Would be a mighty waste.

Not from the coast...

Niamh squinted her eyes as she gazed at the male, and then made a connection between him and Rosalyn. She too had been from the coast- and had exhibited the same sort of brazen attitude this fellow had. He shook his pelt out and looked her over, but she wasn't having it...Or maybe she was. Did she want him to look at her like that? Partially, yes- but part of her didn't want him to look at her, but she sure wanted Colt to do that. She continued to side-eye him, holding her ground as he came closer, shaking out his pelt. Yes, he definitely had that sea-side smell about him, same as Coelacanth and Caiaphas. There was something about wolves from the coast, a sort of confidence that dogged them the same as the salt that clung to their pelts. It wasn't altogether an unattractive thing. 

"No. I'm from the woods." She said, referring to the lands where she'd been born, not the plateau. There was a sense of pride in her words- as though to insinuate, perhaps, that there was something to be said for wolves who were born in the woodlands, as opposed to those who lived by the coast. She turned her gaze out along the sea line, though, and gestured with a flick of her nose. "But I do like it here." She admitted, but caught herself softening and corrected herself. 

He complimented her, and it was noticed...And appreciated. Finally- someone who could openly say something nice to her, about her. Her eyes glistened for a moment, but she steeled herself; and decided that maybe this loner ought to see more of her than simply her prettiness. So when he asked about her business, she answered him in a deadpan tone. 

"I'm checking the shoreline for the body of a wolf I was commissioned to hunt down." She said, almost casually. She flicked her tail. "Must've made a fine feast for the fish."

The man missed whatever effect his kind words had upon her, because he was too busy staring out at the ocean and the rocky cliffside. With a slight loom of his heavy-set figure he took a bold stance at the precipice, looking over the edge in a way that should've made the average person's stomach twist with anxiety. Nope, no body down there. When he withdrew he gave her a coy glance, the wind whipping at the espresso-dark fur of his face. Ain't no livin' after a fall from up here, I can tell ye that much, if anyone did survive then it would've been the will of the sea; She was a horrible mistress to be enslaved to, but anyone worth their salt would've owed a great debt. That said, he was now immensely curious about the girl and her hunt.

He took a few steps away from the ledge just in case she turned her moodiness upon him (or chose to toss him overboard too, since apparently she had a track-record for such behavior) and appeared to look at her in a new light. No longer was he so interested in the curve of her hips or the softness of her curves. Ye be sent on yer own fer such a task? My, ye must be a mighty warrior! He didn't mean to sound condescending but the slight laugh at the end might've come off as such; What else ye good at? Betcha could handle yerself out here by the sea easily enough — but yer forest, suppose it's got yer heart?

Was he trying to hit on her? Invite her back home? Woo her away from her pack? He wasn't sure what he was doing, which was typical. Dubloon tended to run his mouth when he was impressed and so far, she seemed quite impressive, and very different from what he was used to.

"Especially not with his throat ripped out." She added to his comment, with a nod, and watched him with a steady gaze to see what he thought of that. If anything, he'd begun to reconsider her- she wasn't simply some leggy blonde in need of a man's reassurance or help. He steered himself away from the cliff's edge, slightly, and she wondered vaguely if he did that for his own safety. How cute it would have been if he'd done that purposefully to avoid being her next victim; at least it meant that she'd garnished a bit of respect, if not fear, from the dark male. 

She wasn't sure what to make of his next question- was he trying to downplay what she'd done? Challenge her? Or was this his method of flirting? She couldn't tell- but she wasn't about to fess up to the fact that she hadn't been the one who'd done Screech in. It wasn't as though he needed to know any more details, anyway. With a lash of her tail, she straightened herself up. "I can manage anywhere I end up," She said, "And I already have a home." Just in case he was trying to recruit her for some ragtag band of pirates. Though she'd liked Rosalyn enough, the dark female had left without saying thank you- and that had irritated those who had given her care. 

Still, more than anything, the male seemed interested in her- and though she was trying to be cold, she enjoyed the attention thoroughly. He wanted to know about her, and had slid in a few passive compliments in the meantime as well. She was sure he'd be the last wolf on the earth to ever be faithful- but where was the harm in flirting with a stranger, especially when she wasn't likely to ever see him again? Now was her time to practice, if nothing else. See if she could use this guy as a crash test dummy- and if something worked on him, maybe it'd work on Colt. 

She sat down, content to give him a bit of her time- but not too much...Of course, she didn't want to seem desparate. If tough and hard to get was what he was after, she had to maintain that air. She curled her tail about her paws and glanced over at him, though her attention was clearly still placed on the sea as it swelled and pushed against the cliffside below. "I take it the seaside is where you call home, then," She commented, though it wasn't clear whether she was impressed or tired when she spoke- after all, she'd met sea lovers like him before- and had yet to be truly impressed by one...Save Coelacanth, of course.