Sequoia Coast woke him up with a barrel to his head (Nereides)

AW at Sequoia Coast - particularly Nereides :)

The slender poltroon sported on her thin skull the carapace of a horseshoe crab with its broad and lifeless eyes scowling and bent downward -- it sat jilted as if drunk, half-cocked downward with lifeless gloom.

She, on the other hand, stood half contorted with her narrow chest puffed forwards and her neck stiff -- torn ears flat and yellow eyes nearly crossed in concentration. The carapace shifted and fluttered off of her hollowly in the bleak wind and howling, she went scampering after it with vigorous affront. Pouncing on the thing she shattered it and froze in dismay. The scullion growled and with a huffy swat of her paw sent the exoskeleton flying and resumed stalking down the beach with brisk steps.

[size=x-small]since you said you wanted a thread with me. <3 also, your writing makes me drool.[/size]

He observed the girl from the cover of some trees atop the cliff where he stood. At first he was unable to make out what sort of crown she’d given herself, and he squinted in a feeble attempt to get a better look. Then, a gust of wind carried it off her head and down the beach where she went scampering after it. His curiosity piqued, Homeros scrambled down the bluff in her direction. She smelt of the area, but her identity was a mystery to the Consort.

By the time he’d almost caught up with her, he came across what looked to be the crushed remains of a crab’s exoskeleton. Hazel eyes reached for the she-wolf’s lanky figure as she ambled away. “Care to look for more?” he called after her, svelte voice reaching over the noise of the waves against the shore. He was sure they’d have little trouble finding horseshoe crab that were alive and probably more interesting to toy around with than a dead thing.

<3 thank you for joining! yay!!

The slender wraith strode with such purpose she sent sand skittering in the blustery wind. Her head was held at an incredible height and her posture seemed almost ludicrous in the way it affected her stilted, stiff gait. She would have continued her fuming were it not for a voice that called behind her -- she spun like a banshee frightened and her feral eyes fell on the warm hazel of the Consort's own.

Surprise had taken her and her hackles were upright in a series of aggressive rifts -- the coywolf stood splay legged and regarded the male carefully before speaking. She did not recognize him but he bore the scent of wolves she knew: inquisitively her little coal-black nose twitched, glistening in the half-light with little puffs. "Who are you?" She inquired suspiciously, maintaining her distance.

She wheeled on him, as he suspected she might. Homeros knew of few wolves who would react differently to a foreigner’s approach. She bristled at the sight of him, but the male maintained his neutral stance. He observed her peculiar appearance: a gangly body cloaked with silvery agouti that was marred only by the sooty black mask the she-wolf sported. He met her perceptive yellow gaze levelly.

“I am called Homeros,” came his reply. “I am a Consort of the Nereides. Do you know of them?” Her scent told him that she might. Perhaps his service to the sea-worshipping women would help put the stranger at ease.

i have to keep this vague - i have a joining post going on with aktaie, but it hasn't been finished yet -- but by this point, icly, she would be a nereides (as long as aktaie likes her i mean)

When the dark-pelted male spoke he only confirmed her suspicions. She sat upright and while her doubt dissipated, she still remained wary. He, being of medium build, still dwarfed her -- and try as she might to stand fierce and tall she was still much smaller than him. She scowled and arched her neck, her spine rigid and her posture suggesting she was comfortably assertive in her conviction he was a comrade and not an enemy.

She flicked her tail as he asked her if she knew of them. A sardonic leer briefly and lightly touched her pistol-thin muzzle. "Of course I know them." She answered, as if it were obvious. "We have settled not too far from here. A young black acolyte of yours found me and introduced me to the fold." She rolled her shoulders -- the scent of his tribe-mates was obvious on her fur, but just as blatantly, she looked the part of a heathen. "I'm Caiaphas."

Although she was significantly smaller than Homeros, the female still made an effort to convey her assertiveness. The Consort was all too willing to appease his female counterpart. He bowed before her, his neck curving towards the earth in a display of respect towards the girl. She had apparently been recruited by one of the acolytes, but her vague description left Homeros clueless as to which woman she was referring to.

“It is a pleasure,” he murmured, hazel eyes flickering away from her face. “What about our way of life enticed you?” He wondered if she, too, felt love for the sea, or if there was something else that had drawn Caiaphas in. It wasn’t often that he encountered an outsider unrelated to the Nereides who sought to join them.

A delighted cackle bubbled forth from her blacked jaws as the male dutifully resigned to her -- this luxury of being self-important and superior to males was, in truth, what first drove Caiaphas to seek the Nereides out. That, and that she was perpetually hungry.

But she did not voice these truths -- instead, she cast him a furtive look as if to say she did not wish to explain such secrets. She, unlike her Nereidikin, had no profane love for the sea -- she saw it as a monstrous and yawning abomination in which was indominate and resolute in its power, yet unerringly insensate and without will. The sea, she felt, was controlled by something far superior -- and the depths in which it spread unknown and uncontrolled terrified her.

But she did not voice this blasphemy -- it was her conviction and hers alone. Instead, she smiled sweetly and cast a blithe look to the sea as if smitten by the thrumming and volatile shore. "We share the same beliefs." She lied, perhaps intuitively -- though her tone seemed true in its assertion. One would assume she meant the ocean she glanced at -- though it was not the belief she shared in common with them.

closing this up for archival. katie, it was good to thread with you again!

It seemed that Caiaphas' artful reply did not merit an answer -- and for a moment she swept her rakish gaze over the male expectantly. She was surprised then to find he had placed a great deal of distance between them -- and with a haughty huff she flicked her tail and bid to do the same.

He had seemed friendly enough, but Caiaphas was not one to enforce a conversation -- and his drawn out silence only fueled her sense of rejection. With an (outwardly) indifferent shrug that masked her true feelings she spurned herself into gear and cantered down the shore, back towards the Sound with earnest.

Soon, she would be back at her grotto -- and soon she would forget Homeros had lost interest in her.