Wheeling Gull Isle drinking through my muzzle on the kitchen wine

So true, beautiful, but I love you and wouldn’t have it any other way. @Komodo ♥

The atramentous sheepdog’s tufted ears were pressed forward upon her skull; all of her focus was tuned completely in on the medicine man and his grief. She listened as he spoke, and she listened to the things he didn’t say. One of Seelie’s vices was loving everyone so much that her tiny body was riddled with exit wounds — but she had been born to love this way. It was all she knew. Komodo, on the other hand, had enjoyed many a liaison — but as far as little Big Ears knew, `Io was his first mate. To have given away something he’d guarded so preciously, only to have the holder of that gift vanish without a trace…oh, the hollow hurt took Seelie’s breath away.

The storm, too, had broken the angakkuq’s spirit in a way that concerned Coelacanth. She had not been blind to his defeated heartbreak; the saline of his tears had not blended in or been blotted out by the saltwater winds. She knew of his commitment to his gods, and though she did not share his beliefs, she respected them and mourned alongside him their silence. Despite this, she had little to say — she seldom needed to speak around him. She continued to preen at his ruff, believing fully that he would come to some fated conclusion on his own, and at last came to rest with her throat pressed to his withers — no small feat, given their difference in height! (She had to stand on her tiptoes, and even that was a stretch.) She closed her eyes and willed him to feel her love and acceptance, unwavering and boundless.