Blackwater Islands whatever happened way back when

@Ptolemy (and of course, any other members of his group that might be on the Islands.) :) I know there's several islands and the description is a bit vague so I'm basing this off of Akantha/Siro's descriptions of the Islands from the Nereides. 

01/06/2024 | 8:37 AM | 24° F |

the cold gripped iaghe as she slipped from the warmth of the den (nestled deep within the shelter of the cove). 

it stretched painfully along her sensitive skin, a muscle that had atrophied being bent to use. it cloistered in her lungs, searing where the fire had choked not so long ago. 

a shiver passed through her that had little to do with the cold, biting back the cough that wished to escape. 

it was phantom only. there was no smoke to expel. 

the petrel's opalite gaze flitted to the sky on occasion, admiring the distant golden glow behind the heavy clouds as the sun rose.

even the damned were not immune to beauty. 

her bones warmed as she trotted along the southern shores of the island, stubbornly ignoring the puffs of vapor that escaped her.

it was along the farthest reaches of the southern beach that she would search the tide pools for a quick meal.

what wee catches could've once been seen in the tide pools had found new shelter, coming to crawl and burrow under the heavy cords of a stowaway on brink of consciousness.

sprawled as he was in the shallow, warm water, the nightingale looked most like a... well, either a clump of pallid seawater, or if the viewer were so familiar with the concept - a dirty mop.

the wildling had little luck, finding no more than a mussel that had already been cracked and pillaged in the first of the cloistered pools. 

it was as she approached another set of tide pools some ways down the beach that she first spotted it. the acolyte slowed, hesitant, head bobbing and frame darting as she advanced and withdrew repeatedly -- sniffing at the curious, stringy lump of white.

it had the scent of something canine beneath the brine and dirt and sand. an anxious whisper of a yip escaped from ia -- bumping the thing with her scarred muzzle before jerking back, retreating to a safe distance to watch it for movement.