Witch's Marsh I'm in my tropical love-land.

Lily pond sub-territory thing.

It was raining. It had come on suddenly as the sun set, with not even the alluring scent of petrichor to lull Ibis in to a zen-like state. The marsh was naturally quite damp and the addition of grim-faced clouds did not change anything, except when they began to spill from overhead. It wasn't the worst rain she'd ever experienced but it was cold - icy, even. As the evening progressed Ibis felt compelled to hide from the rain but she didn't know where to go, for even though there were many trees lining the more stable sections of the marsh, it was still a marsh. Whether her limbs were chilled with frigid mud or her top-line was saturated from above, by the time all light had dimmed she was soaking wet. It wasn't ideal; in fact, it made her miss the safety of the Willows, or the beautiful clover field she had once used as a home base back at the Hollow. But she was resilient, she told herself. She wouldn't let a little rain curtail all her hard work - all the hard work of her new friends, either.

So she continued to patrol the territory even as the darkness became so thick and starless that she couldn't tell paths apart, or solid ground from slushy mud, and that was how she stumbled across one of the clearings at the heart of the territory. The rain sluiced against the earth in such a torrent that Ibis was effectively drowning standing up and every time she tried to double back for the shelter of the trees, she'd slip in to a deeper segment of algae-rich water or inky-black muck. It was gross. It was frustrating. Any chance she'd have of finding something to eat or to stash away for a less rainy day were utterly dashed.

After an hour or two of this ceaseless turmoil the nymph finally found a worthy tree to roost beneath. Her tiny figure huddled against the plush base of the cypress, her coat looking more like a stain of warm silver against the green-black of the tree's prolific branches. She felt the tines dragging through her fur and scowled, utterly forlorn as the rain began to let up. Rather than feel elated as the sky began to clear and the first few stars blinked in to place, Ibis was miserable; wet, muddy, cold, hungry — not feeling like a lady at all, barely feeling alive really. She didn't move from her roost even as the stars began to twinkle across the center of the clearing: not until she realized stars don't exist on the ground. She moved to investigate, each step prone to slippage as her skin shivered, until she was faced with a wide pond lined with giant half-frozen lilies.

The pond was clear and rippling, but as the rain fully ceased and calm descended, all Ibis could see were the stars reflected back to her. They blurred in her vision; as she blinked away some shockingly warm tears, Ibis thought she could see the dark shape of Lily reflecting back to her like a wayward constellation, and her heart felt as if it would burst in that moment.

Getting wet was just another fact of life, and having grown up in a bogged down marshland, Kukulkan had extensive experience adjusting to the unyielding demands of such an environment. Though it was worth noting that as his stay in this northern region extended, the stark differences between northern humidity and southern humidity became cruelly obvious. Certain nuances that might have been helpful back in his first lands seemed to leave him in a bit of a predicament here.

For instance, staying out of the waters.

Down south, once you were wet there was no point trying to stay dry - the heat and humidity would make it cling to you. You'd simply accept it, hell, even throw it back in its face by embracing it before it had a chance to lay claim. Rivers, streams, and even ponds were relaxing places to rest while you waited out the rains - the waters kept a consistent temperature and you weren't subjected to the winds.

But these Wilds were not so forgiving. As the towering beast smelled the first hints of oncoming rain - even through the damp air, he knew it like an old friend - he'd made his way to the nearest water source. The ground cracked and sloshed beneath his paws as he trailed through, the chill and the water conspiring to breed the frailest of ices. The dark had swallowed him whole by the time he came to the pond, bathed in lilies and hearing the final round of the amphibious chorus before they retreated from the rain.

One step after the other, K descended into the waters, hissing through his teeth for the first few seconds as he let that chill seep through. He had noticed, however, that once the chill started to subside, the air above the water seemed deceptively colder than the waters he stood in, persuading him to keep himself crouched and submerged up to the neck as he gently waded around, idle and in awe of the skies.

With his dark head and the black of night coated everywhere, the boy hadn't noticed how invisible he'd become.

Not until she'd arrived and appeared, for all intents and purposes, hypnotized by the faded, twinkling, blanket of stars that draped across the entirety of the heavens. The subtle greys of the rain clouds were now drifting away quickly - as low clouds do - to the east, as though they'd been banished. And while Kukulkan couldn't clearly see Ibis's face, there was... a weight in the air.

He sensed the gravity.

"Ibis..?" Soft words, quiet, though against the silence they may as well have been a crack of thunder. Water gently sloshed as the tall brute slowly stood, making a careful approach to the shore. Ears perked forwards, a warm smile revealing those snaggleteeth as he spoke with more warmth, more of himself, "Been a a hot minute there, ain't seen ya. I, well I figured ye'd be moved on by now er somthin'." She wasn't part of a pack, had family missing, and last they'd spoken she seemed less than thrilled with this area. Or, at least, with its current season.

"Ya hurt?"
An adventurer at heart, the boy could not comprehend why an unshackled wolf would stay where they were not happy. Not with endless possibilities all around them...

@Ibis

There were many things wrong with her current situation that she wasn't willing to face yet, chief among them was her collection of new friends but her loss of beloved family. It was wrong for her to pine for something impossible, and she knew that. Wrong of her to focus every moment on what had been lost rather than what had been gained - because there had been gains, many of them, each of them precious. Had she not left the Hollow then Ibis would've probably continued to be an airheaded little girl intent on entertaining people rather than being useful; she'd never have been faced with Mal, who might've been a bitter pill to swallow but had helped her to grow. The loss of Elysium would've been easier to handle if she'd had her father to guide her through it. Maybe the rest would've been different too: maybe somehow by setting off on her own grand adventure, the universe tilted out of her favor? To say she blamed herself for the death of Lily, the dissolving of Elysium, or her subsequent status as a lone wolf, was not entirely accurate. Ibis knew it was ridiculous to dwell and to lay blame when what she really lacked was control. It wasn't her fault. It was just the way fate transpired.

Still, as she stood upon the soft edge of the pond and watched as the stars filled the expanse... Ibis couldn't help but think, 'This is beautiful,' and, 'I wish you could see this too, Lily, Seabreeze, Olive... Eleuthera.' The names would've continued to flood her mind had she not heard the sound of water dripping, or seen the soft shine of a nose - then eyes - as Kukulkan lifted his chin. Her blood ran cold when she saw the shape drifting close in the dark; the thin veneer of starlight gave a subtle indication of the general shape coming towards her, and some primitive part of her screamed, 'Danger!' even after the shape spoke; perhaps growing stronger because of that voice.

The quiet of the pond was ruptured, then. A small moment, the sound carrying over the pond's surface, her brain working hastily against her first gut instinct to run as it recognized the voice. Her whole body was stiff now, not even shivering, and as Kukulkan went on to speak with his warm voice, she felt herself steady again - calm, coming in a wave, rolling from her constricted throat down to her belly and away. Her tail bristled but she shook it briskly, which might've come across as a very jovial wag.

Ya hurt? Spoke the crocodilian creature, for that's what he resembled the most where he lurked in the dark water. Ibis almost couldn't look at him - she felt so embarrassed for that split-second of terror, more-so for being caught entirely off-guard by his presence. Furious, almost, which made her tight-lipped. At the very least the shock of the pirate's appearance had tried her tears; she took a few breaths to steady herself further and to allay the urge to yell at him, but her voice was still a bit strained with emotion as she said, No, I'm not. You -- you surprised me.

Then she looked up to the sky, trying to ignore the warmth flooding her face. That fight-or-flight response rooted in her belly but it shifted too, losing the fear but keeping the fire. I was remembering someone very important to me. Someone I lost. But I'm okay, she elucidates with a somber tone, and finally drops her attention away from the stars overhead to trace the constellations mirrored around the boy, gasping softly at the sight of it. Isn't the water... aren't you terribly cold? Ibis murmurs softly to him.

Kukulkan had learned nothing, it seemed, from his last experience with Ibis. Once again, he'd managed to terrifying the small thing and it left him with a sinking pit in his gut, a flush in his cheeks, and of course the first thing to leave his lips was an urgent, "Ahhhh shit, shit shit shit--"

For a split second he dipped down an inch, considering for a second whether he should just disappear into the waters as though it could somehow undo what had been done. But just as quickly he kicked his legs to propel himself out - one quick stride and he felt the sudden rush of frigid air against his soaked furs. It was as unwelcome as it was unpleasant, and yet another reminder of the fact the boy was a foreigner, not attuned to the nuances of life here. All of this paled in comparison with the twisting in his gut, from the look in Ibis's face.

The way those sad emeralds stared in horror, a rabbit caught by the gaze of a predator.

Her response, controlled and gentle, might have offered a bit of ease, that reassurance that she was in fact okay. Kukulkan knew better though - an actor could see through the act. Ears flattened themselves as his form lumbered to the edge of the waters, coming up a yard to Ibis's left and turning to face her as she faced the now-rippling reflections of the heavens. "I, I didn' mean'ta," Though gentle and warm, his voice was noticeably quieter than usual. "I jus' didn' see ya, an' then I though' maybe if'n I said somethin' first ya wouldn't be scared, an'--" He'd dip his head down a bit, or perhaps his shoulders had just given way.

"I'm sorry."

Her voice also took a turn, and it further wrenched that horrible feeling in his gut. Each word she spoke felt as though it added ad infinitum to the weight that bore down upon the two of them, a sort of cold sorrow that sunk into his bones the same as the chill from the waters had. Guilt had its hand firmly atop his heart at the mention of her loss, and this time his smile finally faded, a somber frown taking its place. As she attempted to change the subject, he held his silence for a moment - a rarity, for sure - while he weighed whether or not to draw it back. Would it hurt her more to talk about it? Could the distraction truly be better?

"I mean, sorta," he had caved, an awkward smile splitting with his teeth poking out in that awkward grin. Shrugging his shoulders, he'd left one paw out of the water, feel the wave of frozen bites from the air surrounding it, and stooped it back down into the waters. While he could tell he was no warmer in the pond itself, it was a medical mystery as to why it felt warmer. "But I guess it'sa too late at this point y'know. An' I like th'water..." Small comforts in the overwhelming presence of agony, clinging to the glimmer of light in a realm of toxic shadows. Though it wasn't healthy, it was familiar.

Raised an amoral sinner, Kukulkan found greater comfort in the cradle of familiarity than the reassurance of stability.

It don' really matter though, ain't like I can't warm meself up. Thick-bloode' an' all." The faint ripples danced around his ankles as he stood there, with only the occasional drip from the residual wetness accumulated his belly. Despite his undeniable condition, clearly freezing and soaked, he couldn't tell who was truly colder in that moment. The warmth around her seemed fragile, as though it had once been a part of her, but now found itself so weary, so threatened, it could only cling and linger.

"D-- d'ya wanna talk?"
The weight hung heavy, and K intended to break it.

@Ibis

His booming voice was quieted by her commentary, it seemed. He was more subdued as he came to the shore, but speaking clearly too, his apologies warming the air and filling the space with a thin silvering of breath. Ibis was distracted; it was clear by the way she continued to look out at the pond rather than his dripping body. The stars rippled in to white noise. Her blurry eyes had abated with their leaking of emotion, and the warm trails left behind were obscured by the dampness of her rain-soaked cheeks. Nothing to see here—nothing at all.

As Kukulkan settled beside her Ibis finally came back to herself, like a spirit who wanted to pass over but remained rooted to their body. She didn't know how she felt in that moment—the fear had slipped away and left her tired, the sorrow and the weight of her thoughts made her hollow. The pond gradually settled from the momentum of the boy's body leaving it, and as the rippled subsided the stars dominated all over again: a great swath of glittering majesty, as if the pond were a piece of the milky way. It was beautiful—so why did it hurt so much to look at?

Then, quietly, Kukulkan: —d'ya wanna talk?

He seemed to pull her back to herself, finally. The dripping of his coat against the shore was like music; a self-contained rain. Ibis sighs and tries to bottle up the rest of her feelings for a change, trying to control herself, manage it all. It occurs to her that Kukulkan has only ever seen her sad and that bothers her quite a bit. Maybe later? The girl murmurs in response to his question, and then begins to investigate the boy's soggy coat, poking at him or beginning to groom with her teeth. You're soaked! Winter is almost here and you're swimming around in the marsh like a crazy person.

There was a lilt to her voice almost like laughter, a spark in her blue eyes that wasn't there before. She began to worry at his coat's tangles but because of the sheer size difference, it would take her hours to dry him off and groom him completely. She got through a bit of his shoulder fur - teetering in to chest territory - when she finally lost her oomph, and sank back on her haunches. Tch, you taste like moss. If you're not careful you'll get sick! Worrying about him in this familial way felt right to Ibis, who had been so used to doing the same for Okeanos. It hadn't occurred to her how strange she must seem in the moment.