Blackwater Islands birds and stars

The tempest watched as the drudge inspected each and everyone of the fish that littered the beach. He sniffed the corpses and his molten gaze followed, trying to figure this man out. Generally, Indie found it easy to read those around her. Their words were her litany, their body language her liturgy. Perhaps this was the reason the taciturn Nereides had enraptured her so — they were not easy to access, as if they were a remote island surrounded by churning water. On land, Indie was amongst the most skilled, but stranded at sea she was no more insightful than a mewling pup. As Indie mused, Whip found the choicest poisson and let it rest in front of her paws. Indie appreciated the finer things in life, but she was much too debauch to turn down any type of meal. This was simply a test, to assess her true authority over the wolf who, in another life, might have been her equal. She smiled and simply uttered “It will do,” seemingly pleased with the service she had received. The meal would not be eaten until later, so she turned her attention to the matter at hand.

Indie was generally a master of her own emotions, but the hoyden found it difficult to withhold the question that danced upon her lips. Her voice suddenly came softer, wishing to cajole the boy into divulging his motives. “Why do you stay?” she inquired in a thoughtful manner and an intentional cant of the head. Would he relent to her curiosity, or would he resist? This, too, she could not scry from his demeanor - but the uncertainty was enticing.