Cerulean Cape wave-wracked and wanton

If Coelacanth is the definition of unbridled exuberance and joy, then Stockholm is the definition of calm and laid-back. If one ever needed evidence that polar opposites attract. While the inky sheepdog pirouettes along the frost-kissed shoreline, the Gampr sits quietly amid the gathering, a soft smile on his face as his attention shifts back and forth between watching Seelie frolic and the general going ons around him. The atmosphere is warm and inviting, even if he feels he is ever so slightly out of place – a stranger amongst a group of friends. It doesn’t bother the Armenian much though; this is Seelie’s family, and she wanted him to be here as well.

He takes note of each newcomer, doing his best to remember names as introductions are made. And then Seelie is upon him, nipping at his chin and scrambling over him like he was part of an obstacle course. He laughs and makes an attempt to nip at her flank as she zips away, snorting as he misses by a mile. His gaze follows her as she plows into Komodo, and he recognizes the earthen-hued male immediately, feeling a sharp pang of guilt. The last time they had spoken, Stockholm had promised the man he would look after Seelie and the rest of Undersea. And he had failed him.

Still, he was glad to see he was alive and well and he rose to his feet, giving his thick coat a good shake before heading down-shore towards the pair, dipping his head in respectful acknowledgment as he approaches. “Komodo. It’s good to see you again.”