Cerulean Cape we have always known how to be monsters

Axolotl watches her reaction to him speaking of Atlan, naming Them as if he expects any one else to know whom and what he speaks of. He doesn’t, not in truth. The leviathan does not expect that Atlan bears different names across the lands. Atlan is simply one of the many; specific to Nootka Sound and their shamanic religion that worships the Sea. He watches as she draws nearer, stopping when the waves lap at her paws and asks a question that could have easily been taken as offensive to the leviathan. Axolotl contains the urge to be indignant but it is thinly veiled. She does not understand and she cannot be faulted for her ignorance. Axolotl knows this but that does not cull the stunning smart of calling Atlan: mighty creator of everything a fish. “No,” With a temperament as ever changing as the sea that stands at his back Axolotl’s patience is forced, tone strained with effort to keep himself in check as he responds to her question. “Atlan is a god. They are the Sea.” He explains, salmon pink tongue drawing across his jowls with a slight twitch of his tail. As an Atlanian it is a duty to educate even when insults are unknowingly and unmeaningly made.