Cerulean Cape wave-wracked and wanton

That is such a pretty song! ♥
Sorry about this post; it got away from me

It was in this breathtakingly beautiful way that Coelacanth learned she and Aditya were indeed related through Grayday’s daughter, Dawn — and the news was dizzying! Tucking her body more firmly against @Stockholm’s with an excited chitter, she bathed his chin and cheek in fervent nibbles and licks. What a wondrous voice Aditya had! Even Komodo’s “minstrels” were impressed.

In the wake of her elation, the longing to tell a story or sing a song assailed Coelacanth, and a flash of hungry, gnawing sorrow danced across her inkdark visage. To assuage the old, unwelcome ache, she pushed her velveteen crown up against the underside of the Gampr’s jaw, slicking back her tufted ears with a trembling sigh as her eyes drifted shut. Stockholm soothed her ruffled nerves, but not even his reassuring warmth could fully extinguish the restlessness in her soul — or her paws.

With complimentary murmurs, Brontide and Serein stepped forward to help @Aditya break through the sea lion’s resilient cloak and section off a hefty portion of the deliciously fatty meat for his family; and as they bore it to them, Seelie gently disengaged from her protector.

She stepped into the limelight, shimmering eyes a bright, luminous blue untouched by the rich citrine light of the moon — and in the way of the nomadic Âlluasiak dancers from the far north, she told her story. Using the ocean as her dancing partner, she smiled down at her reflection, dipping a shoulder to skim her feathered cheek along the glistening surface in a fond caress. She trotted alongside the water going one way, interacting with it as she would have interacted with @Amoxtli — drifting away from it to lift some imagined treasure from the beach, then presenting it for his perusal. Her hips lifted and her forequarters dipped as she bowed playfully, joyously.

She used the saline that clung to her fur as part of her performance. As she leapt and spun, crystal droplets sprang from her cheek and tail, from the feathers of her wrists and ankles, like a handful of small comet tails. Then, quite suddenly, the mood of her dance shifted.

“Where are you?” bespoke the desperately searching look in her Neptune eyes, her paws stuttering and halting midstride. She used the audience to make her point — walking up to @Komodo and glancing around him, over his shoulder — peeking under @Sirimiri for comedic effect — peering into the @Spiritwalker’s face and Aditya’s in turn. When at last she had gone through most members of the crowd, her expression was crestfallen. She’d lost her twin, the mirror to her soul, and although Catori had said she’d seen Amoxtli — and Seelie didn’t doubt this was true! — the tiny sheepdog had yet to witness it for herself. She walked like a creature defeated, paws dragging in the sand, leaving long furrows, her nose so low to the earth it bumped along the ground.

But Coelacanth had hope.

Tonight was the Hunter’s Moon — and she slunk to the water’s edge and sat with her back to the audience, silhouetted and dwarfed by the glossy glow of the moon. For a long moment she sat — and Brontide, indeed, began to cheer as if he thought she’d finished — but Serein shushed her brother with a swift nip to the nose, because all at once, the little Groenendael was moving again.

One tufted ear swept to attention, then twisted like a blossom in the breeze, beckoned by some unknown sound. Both ears popped to attention like inverse exclamation points atop her crown, and she spun — water cascaded around her in a whirlwind as she bounded forward, rearing on her hind legs like a spirited filly and tossing her forelimbs around her imagined twin. She tumbled to the ground with an expression of delight, then leapt again and again, her slim jaws parting on a joyful “howl” that was merely a whispered whine. In this story, she and Amoxtli were reunited — and she had no way of knowing that her heart’s deepest wish was already on its way to coming true.

Overcome with emotion — and shyness — the tiny wolfdog catapulted into Stockholm’s shadow and nestled against his breast, shoving herself somewhat unceremoniously under one of his forelegs so that she could shelter beneath his vast height until her cheeks cooled and her heart slowed.