Wheeling Gull Isle santeria

Komodo was not a young man. With more than four years of life under his belt, he had seen much, heard much — learned much. There was little rhyme or reasons to where he ventured; electing to let the world steer him as it may. He couldn't remember wher he had been born, and though the brute possessed a tracker’s nose, even he would not be able to find it. Vestiges of his mother and his father rarely came to mind, as he left their fealty the moment his age would allow such a thing... but he remembered them being kind and he knew they were strong and, hopefully, hale in their elderly age. 

Ever since the he left, the earthstalker had never stopped moving. 

Long swathes of travel were punctuated with brief periods of activity — usually a patient requiring long-term care, or a lady with glassy, fluttering eyes — but he would always move on, eventually. It’s how it had been with Riptide and his family; his pack. Once the man had convalesced to a point where the angakkuq felt comfortable leaving him in the care of Kirynnae. It wasn’t that the past was bad, but there was a certain comfort that came with relying on no one but himself. Still, the rush of seeing Coelacanth, such an obscure part of his story; it felt good. 

Her twiggy arms clasped about his corded neck and the brute let his nacaret eyes slip shut and his low grumble of beatitude thrum deeper, the push of her silken visage like music against his own, their hearts beating a drumline within their chests — but all too soon the feathered naiad released her embrace and darted away. One eye opened, then two and then he was watching her, who was looking at him, and they stayed that way for a moment, communicating in her own indelible, voiceless language. Why? spoke an inquisitive cant of his head and upswing of his ears. If she was afraid of him, she needn’t be. 

His query was answered with zest and zeal and their distinct forms alighted once more. Unable to maintain the silence, Komodo released a hearty laugh and returned her warmth. ”Y’never grew into your ears,” he mentioned, finding his customary low alto with ease.  ”Big — like your father’s.” The brute nibbled at the tips of her tufted ears affectionately. It was the feature that distinguished her most from the rest of Riptide’s flock — the angakkuq had never the pleasure of meeting her canine mother and Riptide did have big ears... but nothing like that.

i couldn’t help it lol