Blackwater Islands dreadful, like death

of all of them, nyra offers him comfort. a soft reassurance that echoes in his mind; splicing through the hazy forms of the commanders as they surge in around him. ingram blinks once and twice, offering no words, hoping that the phantoms of his bloodline might vanish as he tries and fails to focus on the faces of the small group he has gathered to this beach.

seaglass gaze is sharp as it cuts to alduin — the abandoner as ingram has come to think of him ( unfairly, without caring to know the circumstances of it ) with a cruel raze like a knife's edge — as the other boy speaks. he might've been the listener's first companion at the beginning of this journey but ingram knew that he, himself was the most loyal. he'd been with her along every bump and curve; mourned her when she had vanished and followed her the moment she'd returned to him.

the past is the past, one commander's voice whispers reason into ingram's ear. do not forgive. wanlida's voice is stronger; holding more control over ingram and twisting something ugly in his gut. no, ingram rasps out the word harshly. she belongs to us, to the unnamed god. not the sea. a pause, a snorting breath not unlike a bull's. if she does not come out: i will go in. and if he drowned in the process? well that was a chance ingram was willing to take.

listener — he murmurs as she emerges from the frothing waves; saltwater soaking her pelage. he'd almost slipped and called her trikova but gladly bit his tongue before his name for her had passed thru his lips. it was not for the ears of those around him: only her.

he moves towards her on legs that feel like jelly; the sand like quicksand: taking too long, hindering his movements. yet, he reaches her all the same, noting her accursed sky rock clutched betwixt her jaws. listener. he nudges at her cheek in attempts to wake her; relived to find that while wet her cheek is thankfully warm.