Wheeling Gull Isle bleu, bleu, le monde est bleu

Cameo for now; she doesn’t want to interrupt. ♥ Please skip me.

Despite the return of Komodo, `Io, and Rokig, Coelacanth had suffered a heavy blow to her self-confidence that she couldn’t seem to bounce back from. It was this renewed sense of inadequacy that made her pause at the sound of voices instead of moving forward with characteristic curiosity to greet the two females she so loved and revered. Instead, keeping meticulously downwind, she shifted her weight to her hindquarters in preparation to go — their reunion was a thing she did not wish to intrude upon, and she remembered keenly how awkward she’d made things when she bumbled into Mou’s recovery den that time. Poppyseeds. They’d been on Maegi’s paw, then, and had readily been given to Mou to help him through the worst of the pain.

(Should Coelacanth have been more watchful about the poppyseeds?)

Hemlock had told her of Maegi’s overdose, and the Aralez was still unsure what she ought to do about it, if anything. Overindulgence and addiction were things wholly unfamiliar to the little wolfdog, but anxiety and depression? They were old friends, and the former was particularly insistent that she go, and go now, because she would only besmirch this tableau — and really, Seelie, haven’t you done enough?