Cerulean Cape across the delta

AW!!! tagging @Coelacanth though, ;)

He had traveled far, so far he now found that he regretted his decision. He'd let his wandering feet guide him where he should have let his heart do so, and now he found himself in the depths of the wild with the mountains between him and home. Ocra and Xan would keep watch in his absence, but he had been days, and did not like that they might have even thought he had abandoned them.

Still, he would make the best of his misfortune. As he struck north, where he would round the mountains, he paid careful attention to the lands he passed. There were packs aplenty here, some of which he had to skirt around. He was nothing if not attentive, even when he reached the sea in her splendor. Only once he had crossed a river delta and found himself on the shores of a brilliant cape did he stop, thinking to rest on the sun-warmed sand.

NOTE: In Seelie’s personal timeline, this takes place after her thread with Kjalarr.

This post feels so clunky! I am sorry. ><

Immediately following the night of celebration, the little Groenendael traced the shoreline eastward. She bade farewell to the pinnipeds and their rocky shoals, danced her way across the mirror-like river delta, and looked with poignant fondness upon Marbas’ island. Restlessly she wandered the cape, nimble paws carrying her past a series of rocky cliffs as she chased a pod of dolphins, stopping only when territory borders forced her to. Kierkegaard’s scent drew her to the sirens’ hallowed ground; and yet, a pressing need to keep moving spurred her onward. At the eleventh hour she bathed in seawater set aglow by bioluminescent plankton — and just as the first glimmers of dawn began to outshine the glittering expanse of stars, the inky ingénue set her sights further north and turned away from the breathtaking radiance that surrounded her. With a single backward glance and a fierce ache in her heart for those she would leave behind — Doe, Marbas, Kierkegaard, Dagfinn, Starbuck, Szymon, and Chusi — Coelacanth left the Teekon Wilds entirely, intent on finding her wayward twin.

The lissome sheepdog cross limped wearily across the sand, a feverish light in her brilliant seablue eyes; she had traveled through the night, but in doing so she had pushed herself to the point of near exhaustion. The threat she had encountered on her way back to the Teekon Wilds had added an element of desperation to her return journey, unleashing fears and worries to nip at her feathered heels. They spurred her on, relentless and voracious, long after the needs of her body screamed to be answered. It was eagerness, too, that drove the inky ingénue — she ached to be reunited with Doe; to burrow in the berry-scented moss of her den, surrounded by her treasures; and to take stock of those she missed.

A figure in the distance caught her attention, and her tufted ears tipped forward upon her finely-sculpted crown as she came to a wavering halt; uncertainly, she remained where she stood, regarding the masked bandit with wary shyness. Her sumi-e brush tail whisked anxiously, beating a fluttering rhythm against her slim hocks, as she took a single step toward the ruddy stranger and hesitated. The atramentous female glanced furtively over one slim, waiflike shoulder before the full force of her fawnlike seablue eyes focused inquisitively on the masked wolf.

Feeling sorry for himself would only get him so far, but it wouldn't hurt to indulge himself in a little melancholy before pressing on. With the salt scent and the crashing wave, the sea-sands reminded him only distantly of his homeland, but it was close enough. His legs were tired, the muscles remembering moving across sand but not conditioned to do so. This rest would do him well, and he finally resolved his guilt when he saw the vague black form of a wolf at his periphery.

A general confidence lent itself to a mere lackadaisical turn of his head and he did not rise, though were he less certain of himself in that instant he might have. But no, he saw the wolf just fine from where he was. Hola, he called, for he was instantly interested in her. She was a sweep of black fur, which looked long and silky and utterly un-lupine, though clearly she was a wolf. She was, in a word, fascinating. In another, beautiful. Either way, Sriracha was interested. I'm not looking for trouble, but I'd love to get to know you, he called again, tone just wavering on flirtatious to gauge her interest.

The black-masked desperado called out to Coelacanth, and although she could not claim fluency in the language, she understood. A plume of smoke snaked from her lips as she offered a soft whuff in answer, and her weary paws regained a measure of their former sprightliness as she danced forward a pace. The time she’d spent alone had taken its toll on the sensitive empath — she was desperate for companionship on any level, and the warm, rich sound of the ruddy wolf’s voice drew her as soundly as a siren’s song. Her Neptune eyes, lucent and open, locked with uncharacteristic boldness on the bandit’s — but as she drew nearer, memory of the Keeper superimposed itself on the unknown wolf’s face. Sudden indecision flickered over her delicate features as she stopped in her tracks, her movements sharp and wild as the hope in her eyes was swallowed up by distrust — and before he could speak again and snare her with the honeyed temptation of his affections, the inkdark sheepdog wheeled and fled, winging southward toward her beloved river.