Wheeling Gull Isle awake my soul

For WHI hopefuls.

The island wasn't much different than the coast except for the fact it was entirely coast; there was no escaping the strong musk of the wet sand as the tide withdrew and left deposits behind. By the afternoon the sea had lulled away from the section where Firefly had been napping in the sun. This withdrawal exposed some tidal flats - they stretched for a few kilometers towards the mainland.

There were dark patches of wet sand interspersed with sea water caught along some low points. Tiny fish - barely larger than fat worms - twisted through these shallow pools as they sought the deep blue. As the sand dried, so too would the slick green plants growing along the exposed rock along the islands perimeter. These patches were typically bathed in salt water and without it, they became something closer in nature to pond scum.

Overhead there were gulls, of course. Investigating the retreating water as they sought an easy lunch. The crabs left exposed by the retreating tide would make good meals if the birds could dive at them fast enough. Firefly watched all of this in silence; the pull of the sea away from the isle, the increased activity in the air, the scurrying of crabs as they dug in to the black sand in search of solace.

He watched, and he plotted.

He wasn't sure why he had come back. The Teekon was his birthplace, where perhaps his family still hung around, but he felt misplaced without them by his side. Even more did his heart ache with the knowledge he had given up a life of luxury, a life with Agnar and their children - even though females had to carry them. There was no place for him there anymore when Agnar dumped him, so Tryp... formerly known as Vassago Lanius Rochester, went into exile. Every time he turned his back he hoped Agnar would be following him like his shadow.

Tryp had never lived near the coast, but now that he was actually near enough to smell the salt of the waves and feel the damp sand under his paws he couldn't deny its beauty. Even more remarkable was the bridge of sand leading into the sea, a path he wished to follow. He made his way toward the island, docked tail stiff and pointy as always when he was trotting along, minding his own business.

The fact that he'd survived was some kind of miracle. That he was found by someone like Strand and appropriately nursed back to health made him feel as if he had been granted some kind of leniency by the fates, or by god, or by something outside of himself. There had to be a reason he had not died that day on the cliffside. He was meant for more — or that's what Firefly had chosen to believe as he focused on his recovery. The world was his for the taking and he need only gather his strength.

For now, he basked in the sunlight. Let it soak in to his prone figure as he lay sphynx-like upon a single exposed rock face, watching the sand spread out before him like a great wasteland. His theater for battle, more like. The southern expanse lead away from the island and gradually wedged to a high-point where the sand remained dry (for the most part); he could see something dark on the horizon and turned to focus his good eye upon it.

The light flickered. Gathered there, almost coalescing in to the shape of a young man. The wind whistled past one of Firefly's ears and sought out the stranger, buffeting their coat as they walked. The waiting beast watched - preparing himself for the eventuality of their meeting - until the boy was nearer. Firefly cleared his throat. One might anticipate riddles to come flooding from him like the mythical creature he currenty resembled, but instead all he said was, What're you doing here?

The giant only had a keen eye when hunting, so the figure upon the rock went unnoticed at first. Instead, Tryp's gaze was fixed upon the sky where some birds fluttered upon the soft Spring breeze that was much colder here compared to in-land. His tawny and ginger fur followed the bird's movement as the same wind played with it, the long strands attached to his elbows especially tangled.

The giant halted in surprise, body squishing together like an accordion. Oh - sorry! his buttery voice called out. Just wanted to check out that cool-looking island thing - is it occupied? He put on his most polite smile, left paw curling over his right leg as always when he was nervous. He hadn't met a stranger in so long, and this one seemed especially strange.

 

He had not considered that the island would be visible from the mainland; he had no memory of ever noticing it before, but maybe he had in passing and merely ignored it, deemed it inconsequential to whatever drama had been drummed up at the time. The stranger took notice of him and seemed to be elated, or dismayed, it was hard for Firefly to read them properly. They spoke openly about their quest and the guardian could appreciate the honesty at the very least.

His brow did quirk at the term, island thing. However, Firefly kept any comments about the erratic nature of this nerve-wrack creature to himself. When he did speak it was with some veiled sense of authority, as if the island belonged to him.

It is, he quipped first. I live there along with some women. Which made him sound like the owner of a harem or something—the furthest thing from the truth—but it wasn't a terrible image in Firefly's mind, so he didn't clarify beyond that. Instead he continued to scrutinize the stranger and to interrogate him: We could use some more healthy young men in our ranks, if you're interested—but you would be forsaking the mainland. The sea is fickle and does not allow us passage too often.

The strangers upon the isle might not have been family, but they were living together under the common goal of survival; that was enough for Firefly to assume that establishing a pack was the next step—so he would help Strand out, at least a little, to repay her for saving him from the shoreline.

He was disappointed that the island had already been found and claimed - even more so that this man seemed to hold authority around here. Women had always been kinder to the giant. He seemed to strike some heartstrings with his femininity and his bashful nature. He wasn't sure if the scarred man atop the rock would ever appreciate these traits, but nothing bound him to the mainland.

It does now. He commented cheekily. Perhaps for a reason - are you the leader of this band, or do I sign up elsewhere? He wasn't sure why he was thinking of joining them, he just knew that for some reason the sea had retreated and laid down a path for him to follow.

He had tried to appeal to the boy's youth, hoping the allure of a secluded isle populated with women would do the trick—evidently Firefly had been correct in his assumption, for soon enough they spoke of sticking around, and sought guidance. As much as the scarred man wished he could simply say yes to the boy's desire and accept him on the spot, it wasn't his call. Strand would probably need to assess the boy before a final call was made, but Firefly made no move to summon her. Still sore deep-down from his failure to combat the woman on the cliffs, Firefly was not eager to hand over control or power to the vagrant no matter how useful her healing had been in his time of dire need.

If you continue up the beach you should find some of the women. A golden-haired girl named @Strand is around somewhere, and if you speak with her she will decide. He could've led the boy around, helped him hunt her down, but the island was pretty small to begin with and Firefly was still nursing injuries. A small curl caught the corners of his mouth though as he thought of something; be quick or the sea will make the decision for you.

It wasn't what Firefly thought it was. Tryp had always been more attracted to men than women, so a brothel-like island did not excite him the way the other thought. Perhaps, the striking king of the rock did. Like the spot he was perched upon, he seemed a bit rough around the edges and the soft, sad, sandy sucker kinda dug his style.

Uhm, alright then. He answered, passing the guardian to go look for this Strand. Who should I say sent me? He asked before he was too far away. It was his cheeky way of asking for the stranger's name without being too upfront. Guys liked that, right?

The boy did not get far; he stopped and addressed Firefly again, and this time the man turned to regard him within his periphery. The way the light caught upon the golden fur of the stranger was somehow appealing — perhaps bringing to mind a sister he once had but could only vaguely recall; it was enough to garner a spark of interest until he noticed the way the boy was coyly looking back. Feeling a touch flustered (and uncertain as to why) he shifted back to his lazy sprawl and responded, Doesn't really matter who I am until you make an impression on her, so don't mention it. Just go, said his body language.

His lips scrunched together, but he eventually shrugged and went on his way to find this @Strand . He wasn't sure how he was going to impress these tough wolves, but something told him he was doing the right thing. The gentle giant was a healer and a fighter, the former a recent addition to his resume. The Damned didn't have a healer, so he learned what he could the year he was away from strangers and himself. He felt like he would be a great addition to any team, but knew others might find his persona rather unappealing.