Wheeling Gull Isle neon gravestones try to call for my bones

To ease up your thread log, @Faeryn, I am fine if you wanna archive this after my post, or post one more time and then archive. With @Stockholm’s permission I am powerplaying him in my post to help close this more quickly. ♥

Concern for Faeryn outweighed the overwhelming hurt the sheepdog felt. That the blue wolfess might one day wish to leave the home she had worked so hard to helped build had never once occurred to Coelacanth, but if she wanted to leave, her reasons must be grave indeed. “Peace be, Faeryn,” she breathed simply, dipping her tapered muzzle to nose lovingly at her agemate’s décolletage. “Fierce heart.” The broken whisper trilled from her lips, and her Neptune eyes fervently and intently searched the former Akhlut’s to convey what her voice could not: Faeryn would always be welcome at the island’s shores, just like the other seawolves whose adventures had carried them away. The Cortens were chronic wayfarers; it was just that in Seelie, the sheepdog’s home-tending blood was far stronger.

“You’ll always be welcome here, Faeryn,” the Gampr echoed his Groenendael’s sentiment. “Go, find what you need to find. We’ll be here for you if you ever need us.”