Cerulean Cape silver-spun and scintillating

The hum of sound engendered by the lunar festivities blotted out Amoxtli’s approach to a certain degree — but that single, throttled gasp cut through the din like a knife and kicked Coelacanth’s aching heart into overdrive. She turned, but already he was upon her, and in a tangled pile of wispy fur they toppled into the ocean. Were she able, Coelacanth would have unleashed a mess of whimpering, whining, keening cries at the fierce pleasure-pain of their reunion — but even without a voice, the scalloped gradient of her ribs stood out plainly beneath the soaked silk of her pelt and heaved visibly with great, shuddering breaths. The cold shocked the air right out of her, but after a moment she didn’t feel it. She attacked her twin with the pent-up affection of long months without him, her Neptune eyes luminous with tears that streamed seamlessly into the rolling sea.

She pushed her tiny body into his like an insistent cat’s, twining around him, trying to crawl under him or clamber over him — she trembled with more than just cold. Her breath came in a series of shuddering, sobbing gasps, each punctuated with a crystalline cloud of white. Amoxtli! Seelie was a creature built for loving, with a singular desire to have that love reciprocated, and not even her requited affection for Stockholm compared to the feeling of being reunited with the torn-away half of her soul. Slim jaws parted to mouth at the underside of her twin’s jaw; she clasped her spindly forelimbs around his neck in a sweet hug. All the while, little whimpers and whines danced up and down the hollow column of her throat. She felt, rather inanely, that she was both being reborn and rebuilt and breaking apart at every seam. Nothing could have prepared her for this.

When at last the heartbreaking happiness of being with Amoxtli again subsided to something only slightly more manageable, Seelie pressed her muzzle to the bulb of his ear and whuffed a sigh of blissful contentment. “Where did you go?” bespoke the tilt of her head and the airy whisper of a whine that trailed from her lips, her cerulean eyes fixed in worshipful awe upon his face. There was no accusation in the small girl; she did not demand to know or even question why he had left her alone. She simply wanted to know of his adventures — and hoped that the world had been kinder to Amoxtli than it had been to her. He was a Corten, built for a colorful life, and all was forgiven.