Wheeling Gull Isle musou il mare

Coelacanth was not the only one keenly feeling her own inadequacy. Driftwood still felt guilty that he hadn't been there, hadn't been there to divined Aditya's intent (somehow) and stopped him before the whole fiasco had begun (...somehow). He'd been restlessly haunting the island's fringes, worrying himself sick and losing sleep as he strove to make certain that such a mistake wouldn't happen again. He gave his head a harsh shake and cocked his ears when the call came, blinking the confusion from his eyes and trying to make certain it was not some sleep-deprived hallucination echoing in his ears. It didn't take him too long to consider that, despite his uncertainty, he'd do better to go ahead and run in that direction regardless: if he was hearing things, well, no harm done...hopefully...right? But if it was real... if perhaps something dire might have caused Stockholm to raise his voice to the skies this day... Driftwood's feet were already in motion as that possibility haunted him mind, for all that the summons had been cryptic and mentioned no such danger.

He slowed as he drew nearer to the small rowd that had gathered, and looked around at all of them—all limbs seemed intact, and all coats unmarred. So not any sort of attack; this was not history repeating itself, thankfully. Driftwood's feet stuttered to a halt, and he bobbed his head low and respectfully in first Seelie and then Stockholm's direction before taking in the female of the pair's words. Deep concern flashed across his face as Thresher's disappearance was publicized, followed by sorrow as Seelie announced that she was stepping down "until all wounds healed," and then a touch of confusion intermingled at the mention of a storm coming and leading to...rebirth of some sort, what? Driftwood was puzzled by what exactly that was supposed to imply, but more imortantly in the meantime couldn't help but take the announced timeline a little more poetically, and wondered as he glanced around at his fellow packmates, fewer and more ragged in number than they once were, if the less-visible wounds to the pack as a whole would ever truly heal. It took him a minute or two to place all the faces, even so—honestly, he was glad that Seelie named at least a few of them for him, because it felt like it had been months or even years since he had seen some of his fellow pack members, never mind actually spoken to them. When had Undersea become so estranged from one another? he mourned—or perhaps it was he himself who had been a stranger?

Moorhen didn't even wait for another word to be said before she briskly swept over to greet Seelie and then strode off in the direction of the landbridge, with Reed quick to follow her. Driftwood moved with much less self-assurance, making sure to offer Komodo a respectful but somewhat more hesitant and reserved deep nod of respect before his own feet went anywhere. He wanted to rush over to comfort and help Seelie as well, but suspecting that she already had as many physical supporters right here and now as she could possibly need, particularly with and her mate so obviously hovering right there and the now-technically-outranking-her Komodo nearby at hand. ...Everyone she could possibly need except for her little treasure Thresher, that was, of course! Driftwood's feet stepped forward a pace and a half, but there he stopped with one sandfurred forepaw left dangling anxiously midair. We'll find her, Seelie! he blurted, his ears flickering up and down and belying the certainty and faith he tried to put into his voice. Never fear, we'll find her and bring her home. And... and let us know if there's anything else we can do. Please. Okay, so manybe certainty and faith might be somewhat feeble and lacking, but sincerity rang loud and clear in his voice, at least.