Coconut Grove quam serena

He was spectral indeed, with the salt of the waters having claimed the ribs in his body. She was mysterious - a spark struck her gaze and he felt himself pause. 

The wraith was devoted to the water and the great spirits that blessed his pack and his land. He had never strayed from her in all his years. Even when he knew exile, the king of the swell returned to her dutifully. There was a similar devotion in the wolf across from him. His dark gaze glinted as he caught the curling of her lips into a smile. Then, she extended her muzzle to take in his scent and breathe all that he carried in his musk. The silver-ribbed leviathan drew his breath carefully and swiftly so that he might keep a short gap between them. Still, the fur along his neck pricked and he only reared his crown back and up. The deep colors of his gaze danced along the features of her face, and he held fast to the ground beneath him. 

Skellige had never truly mastered the art of a silver tongue. He was superstitious and wary of the wrath of his ancients. If he held his word, he could allow his actions to speak instead. Where he lacked social formalities, he excelled in control of his body. So his tail was raised ever so slightly and his ears pulled forward.