Blackwater Islands 2+2=5 (The Lukewarm)

The Matriarch expected a stammered greeting punctuated by a flustered flurry of movement as he quickly made to prostrate himself before her. But instead she bore witness to the single most heartbreaking sight she'd ever observed—it was as if his own mind was attempting to tear itself apart, and his heart was a needless victim of the careless act. Her heart lept into her throat, which clenched around it uncomfortably. Akantha was both transfixed and bewhildered. Whip was clearly in pain from something, though his scent harbored no blood, nor did he seem visibly injured. 

Akantha stole a quick, fearful glance behind her, before she quickly picked up her paws and moved to stand almost protectively over the boy. "Shh," She hummed while frantically pressing her nose into the soft places of his shoulders, spine, neck, and cheek. She sought to draw out the Whip she remembered; the shy, uncertain, but dedicated creature she'd come to respect over the past few weeks. To be caught out like this, the Matriarch treating a man like this, would mean certain expulsion in Themiscrya. But this wasn't Themiscrya. This was her sect. Her island. Her Nereides, and she refused to allow this brutal ritual to harm her men any further.

She lapped gently at his tears while she lay herself down around him, encircling the boy with her own large frame and drawing him close by draping a paw over his back. "You're alright, you're safe." she crooned to the fleshy curve of his ear in an attempt to calm him.