Wheeling Gull Isle friction!

The rain combed through his pelt as if they wreathe gods’ fingers. At first he felt the water come to rest against the warmth of his skin, then coalesced in the crevices of his ears and the ridge of his withers, and then slid to the ground beneath him — but there were many to raindrops to count, and they soon all blended together to blanket him in wetness and wash away his sins. The angaqquk let his simmering gaze fall shut, and mind fall silent. 

He only returned to a state of awareness when he felt the presence of another; and it was someone with a bizarre state of energy, not unlike the storm itself. Immediately he was brought to attention, not too surprised that the maelstrom had brought about the worst out in the island’s inhabitants and their fortunes. He expected to see something akin to the visions of the hurricane, all that time ago — but it was only the silent one, and she seemed scared.

The frenetic hoyden approached him boldly and made to shield herself with his frame. He allowed this to happen for a moment, tightened his stance so that it resembled stone — but then remembered that there was the mouth of the cavern right behind them, and with in it, all the creature comforts in the world. For once, Komodo allowed him to place his piety on the back burner. He turned back towards his home and drew up a forelimb to cosset her back into the arid safety of the caves.