Wheeling Gull Isle martinique, that montserrat mystique

Want to fade out with your post? ♥ I really enjoyed this thread!

As the moon rose in the night sky, Sìthiche led Constantine to a pebble-bottomed lagoon off the rocky eastern shore; the pinnipeds had moved inland for the evening, allowing the wolves to pick their way across the outcropping unencumbered. In truth, the lagoon was swallowed up by the sea lions’ presence and somewhat inconspicuous in daylight — but at twilight it was infused with a wild magic. If the male permitted her closeness, the sheepdog would move in a tight circle around him, tracing her muzzle through the thick fur at his nape. “Look,” she seemed to pantomime with a graceful extension of her swanlike neck. She approached the pool and dipped a paw into it. Immediately, an eerie blue glow surrounded it, stirred up by the ripples in the water. She swirled her foot around, creating an abstract signature, and turned to glance over her shoulder at him with Neptune eyes that were the exact same shade. “Cons’antine, see?” she whispered.

A splash behind her caused her to turn her head abruptly, even suspiciously — but there, in the light of the moon, a sea otter bobbed harmlessly by, seeming to wink at the onyxclad twain.

Together, the two of them lounged and eventually slept until the following morning.