Wheeling Gull Isle let my imagination run away with you gladly

@Coelacanth <3 set at coaltree rise -- backdated to when aditya was on the island

he sat a short distance away, his golden eyes following their every move. not elk, not deer, but. . .he had forgotten the name his friend had given them. he'd seen them only once before, racing across a mountain valley, their tails streaming behind them like many banners. now they grazed placidly, looking for greenery among the winter foliage, their dark eyes and noses questing constantly.

a smile stretched his maw as he watched them, feeling the same sort of curiosity he'd had upon looking at the sea lions. except these were infinitely more majestic, long-legged and many-colored, ready to flee at a moment's notice. had he been hungry at all, he would have tried his hand at taking one of the smaller, weaker ones down; as it was, he was content to sit and stare.

and as it was, they were a peaceful sight. they even had some young, wobbling close to their mothers, and a few more females with distended stomachs, ready to pop as catori soon would. they ate and ate, occasionally lifting their heads to peer at a noise or a sudden movement. beyond them, the sea stretched for many miles, an endless, rolling blanket of gray-green.

he wondered if coelacanth would know what these creatures were called, and gave a small, curious call to the inky-furred woman. a few of the animals, startled, took off for a short distance, before wheeling back around and resuming their feast, apparently satisfied the threat was not immediate.

Tufted ears popped into view like twin periscopes moments before Coelacanth crested a small knoll, her delicate paws navigating the undulating terrain with ease. At first, her Neptune eyes were sharp with possessive circumspection — but when she drew near enough to see the gentle smile that shaped Aditya’s mouth, she relaxed. Horses, like sheep, were meant to be protected. Aside from their heavy hooves — which were to be avoided at all costs! — they seemed utterly defenseless, and therefore in need of sheltering. Seelie considered these horses hers, and although they did not trust her enough to let her near, neither did they seek to grind her into the earth like a snake.

She searched for the word and tried to remember its shape, but her teeth and tongue did not know it, and she gave Aditya an answer that was becoming somewhat typical. Sketching an apology with a cowed dip of her slender muzzle, “Stockholm,” she suggested in a breathlike whisper, “Cat.” She didn’t know whether the Spiritwalker had ever seen horses before, but they’d made appearances in many of Kirynnae’s stories. At any rate, the Gampr would easily fill in the blanks.

Leaning up to accommodate for the vast difference in height, Seelie licked tenderly at the male’s cheek and traced a meandering path up the winterbarren veldt. Someday, the prairie would bloom again; and when it did, she hoped the Morningsiders would stay for a long visit. A glance over one inkdark shoulder urged Aditya to follow. She would show him the horses’ cove and take him to meet the dark sentinel. “Do not be afraid,” bespoke her reassuring whuff, combined with her relaxed posture and the inquisitive set of her oversized ears as she trotted a few paces forward.

she appeared quickly, blue eyes glimmering, and gave him two names, both of them clearly not the answer he was looking for. not understanding, he nevertheless gave her a gleaming smile, closing his eyes to accept her touch before pressing his muzzle in a fairly innocuous nudge to her shoulder in greeting. his heart raced, and something within him stirred at the feel, the scent of her. he fought it back as best he could.

seelie gestured for him to follow, and he hung back a moment, uncertain. surely the creatures would flee, seeing them come? or--worse--become violent? he eyed their large, heavy hooves with more than a little misgiving.

her assurance comforted him, if only slightly, and he finally decided to follow, taking nimble, trotting steps after her. he saw one or two of the animals lift their noses slightly, their tails flicking with alarm, and resisted the urge to shy away; coelacanth would know them best, and she wouldn't lead him into danger. . .right?

Coelacanth’s previous encounters with horses had mostly been good, but she knew better than to try to bend these wild creatures to her will. Their manes were shaggy and rough, and their tails dragged upon the ground; the oldest ones were bony and listless, with hooves so overgrown they curled up in the front like grotesque clogs. Although her initial inclination was to forbid her wolves from killing the horses at all costs, Seelie could not help but wonder if culling the oldest members of the herd before they reached such a sorry state was more merciful. It was something that troubled her deeply, but she set the worry aside to discuss with the Council. If the sheepdog ever did speak, Stockholm was her truest mouthpiece, so it was better done with him in attendance.

Setting aside her responsibilities, the ink-feathered Groenendael descended the knoll to flirt with a fiery chestnut mare. Her body language was loose and easy, showing quite plainly that she was playing, not hunting. Still, the filly did not take kindly to Coelacanth’s brazenness and threw up her head with a vivacious little whinny. They played a dangerous game, Seelie nipping at the horse’s heels and the mare bucking saucily in response — but when the inky wolfdog backed off, the horse seemed content to do the same. In truth, the Aralez did not think much of the intelligence of horses; she had seen the woman’s gelding balk at things as innocuous as hay bales, after all.

“Adi,” she breathed, returning to his side with an exultant whuff. Her sea sparkle eyes shimmered with mischief and joy. How could she make it clear to him that she would protect him? She nosed affectionately at the underside of his chin. Then, giving the herd a wide berth, she circled around to the tree in the center of the veldt. She propped herself up on he trunk with one dainty paw, the other tucked against the sloping swell of her breast, and sniffed at the new buds.

he watched with a mixture of fascination and astonishment as seelie danced with one of the female creatures, her inky pelt in stark contrast against its fiery hues. the game ended almost as quickly as it began, and coelacanth came toward him, whispering his name and giving him a touch that made him tremble slightly.

he followed her to the peculiarly blackened tree, eyeing the animals warily as he paced. he sat beside her, gazing contentedly at her as she took in the scent of the new spring flowers, with no shame. he stared, and if she noticed. . .well, he'd have to answer for it. or perhaps not. coelacanth was beautiful; she was probably used to gaping stares.

adi drew in a long breath, savoring the aroma of the isle: the flora, the musk of the horses, the salt air. he smiled at her, nodding toward the trunk, his voice a quiet murmur as he spoke.

"i've seen trees like this before," he remarked. "i once lived among them, with friends. they called them coaltrees." charred by fire, no doubt. adi had also seen fire, and knew of its devastation. he hoped the isle wasn't susceptible to blazes; he hated to think seelie and her pack lived on a death trap.

Coelacanth was used to gaping stares, but not for the reason Aditya believed. So much of her personal conlang was expressed through physical signaling and microexpressions that she had simply grown accustomed to being watched — and closely! She was keenly aware of how her body moved, as singers and storytellers might be hyperconscious of their elocution and inflection, and took great pains to “speak” as clearly and precisely as she could. The Âlluasiak nomads had taught her to use dance to tell stories and sing songs, but in a way, she had already known how — they had merely shown her it was possible. Their tutelage had helped her to refine skills made de rigueur by her impediment, particularly pacing and rhythm. They had made her silence beautiful.

She was not surprised to see him watching her, therefore, when she turned from the floral motes of spring and hopped over to him on three legs. Her left forepaw — the one that had been propped against the trunk — was tucked against her undercarriage like the wing of a wounded bird, but her expression held mischief and mirth. A fluttering wave of her tail promised, “I am well!” and then she made the reason for her odd gait plain. Curling her haunches to sit demurely beside him, Coelacanth pressed her soot-covered paw against the Morningsider’s burly shoulder. After a moment, she lifted her paw and peeked critically, but found herself unimpressed by the faintness of the stamp. It would have worked much better on Catori, but Aditya’s burnished bourbon-and-goldleaf pelt defied her literal seel of approval. Not to be deterred, she returned to the trunk and pawed at the blackburned surface for round two. “Ko?” she whispered conversationally as she worked.

Toddling back to Aditya’s side a second time, she pressed her tiny paw against his cheek, the triangle of pale fur that angled back from his striking eye and smiling mouth. “Coal,” she corrected with a self-deprecating dip of her muzzle and a shy little laugh. “Cola-t’ree.” There was an odd little hiccup in the middle of that consonant blend, as there occasionally was when she addressed Stockholm, but she beamed at Aditya as if he had given her a most wonderful gift.

“Adi — name? Giff name?” She wondered if the hunter would be amendable to the idea of his name being used not only by Coelacanth, but by all the seawolves who called the island home. She remembered her manners, tufted ears popping in surprise and then skimming guiltily back as she tacked on a hasty, “Adi, peas?” She slanted a beseeching glimmer of seablue eyes up at him like a child who believes truly that her good behavior will be rewarded if she asks politely…

…even if she did leave a sooty paw print on her hero’s face.

every molecule, every cell in his body yearned to touch her, to press his body against hers until their pelts mingled into a muddled blend of tawny and ebony, cream and blue. to inhale her sweet scent, to rest his head against hers with a contented sigh. aditya was positively vibrating as she spoke, and those shivers turned into all-out trembles as she laid her paw first on his shoulder, then his cheek.

"coaltree," he repeated, nodding at her as she spoke. she had gotten it right--well, mostly right, but he wasn't one to fault hiccups in pronunciation. her laugh was adorable, bright and charming, and he found himself chuckling along with her, a deep, rich sound that purred from his throat.

giff name? adi cocked his head, smiling down at her. "name the tree, you mean?" he asked, glancing toward the charred specimen. "you want to name it coaltree?" he was honored that she'd chosen his name to give a place on the isle. it wasn't his name, he supposed, and she knew that--but he was honored nonetheless.

he padded over to the tree, placing a forepaw on it for a long moment before drawing back and examining the soot against his pad. grinning, he gently pressed the pad--if she would permit--against her shoulder. "doesn't show up at all on you, chikni raat," he teased, eyes sparkling with mischief.

The little sheepdog had wondered at the quivering of Aditya’s flesh, and her expression had swiftly morphed from one of supplication to meticulous concern — but before she could poke and prod at him to triage his malaise, he’d spoken. Now the moment for interrogation and examination had passed them by, but her Neptune eyes were still intent and watchful lest the strange symptom make a second appearance. She nodded vehemently at his query, searching his face for any sign that he was offended she might like to keep his memory-fashioned moniker for her island, and added for emphasis, “Name Coaltea,” in a silky susurrus. When he moved toward the tree, Coelacanth held back, and a smile danced upon her muzzle and lit her sea sparkle eyes as he pressed a sooty paw against her shoulder. Obligingly, she leaned into it, turning her head to lick at the velveteen of his toes, and then she took a more playful tack: parting her jaws, she mouthed mischievously at his wrist. Her fangs were carefully sheathed, her slender muzzle as soft and pliant as a well-trained retriever’s, as she offered him a kittenish tick of a growl. She only hoped that her wildly wriggling tail and half-arched, smiling eyes would convey that she meant her threat in jest.

"yes, of course," he responded, smiling. "of course you can name it coaltree." it was a perfect moniker for the tree, so unique, its blackened trunk in stark contrast to the verdant, lush paradise that was the isle. yet there was beauty in it, too--the buds bursting forth from the ashes a poignant symbol of rebirth.

adi let out a shockingly high-pitched giggle as she nibbled at his foreleg, and pulled away, pelt bristling slightly, but with mirth, not unease. "that tickles," he laughed, bringing that same forepaw up to bat her playfully across the tufted tops of her ears. "silly girl."

he backed down the rise, letting out a small woof and dancing just out of her reach. out of the corner of his eye, he kept careful watch of where the grazing creatures were, and bowed low, tail wagging. "i've been thinking of your dance at the hunter's moon," adi said, bouncing a little on his paws in a small jig of his own. "do you want to dance with me, now?"

What a funny sound he made!

Stirred into an effervescent frenzy by Aditya’s blessing and the high-pitched peal of laughter she’d shocked out of him, Seelie butted her head kittenishly against his forepaw as it drifted overhead with a tiny “brrrt!” of a purr and then dropped her silken cheek and gamine shoulder in a lopsided bow. Her hips and tail remained upright even as she swatted at him laterally with her forelimbs like a nosy feline trying to get under a bathroom door. She was silly? Please! She was the epitome of grace and poise, especially when she scrabbled into an upright position and then bunny-hopped down the slope after him. When he bowed, she adjusted her trajectory with a few haphazard bounds and mimicked his stance, tilting her head this way and that like a curious bird.

The sheepdog’s tufted ears perked at Aditya’s statement, the keen intensity of her listening expression melting like butter into sunspiced shyness as he mentioned her dance at the Hunter’s Moon. Dipping her delicate muzzle, she bowed gracefully, touching the tip of her nose to the medial aspect of her carpus in gratitude. Yes, of course she wanted to dance with him! — and this was evinced by a vehement nod and a quick, finespun circle as she barked without sound.

with a nod, she acquiesced, and he twisted into the most graceful shape his burly body could muster, stretching out long before her--the artist, warming up--before rising up once more. breaking into the slowest of trots, he circled her several times, hips swaying with the movement, tail aloft and streaming in the sea breeze.

truly, he was not a competent dancer--but the song he heard in his heart guided his paws, and so he danced, and danced for her. danced with her, if she would allow.

all good dancers told a story, and he told his own, breaking into a lope and circling the tree, his tongue lolling with joy. he climbed the slope then, with graceful precision, tumbled down it, mimicking his descent into the sea. he rolled a few times and slowly, slowly, dragged himself toward her, laying at her feet, feigning labored breathing.

and just as slowly brought himself up, muzzle just inches from her paws, then her legs, then her chest, and finally, her face. aditya stared at her a long moment, searching her eyes for emotions he desperately wanted to find. desire crackled like lightning through his body as he reached out his nose as if to kiss her. . .

then brought it downwards to rest near his left forepaw, in an elegant bow.

The Aralez watched as Aditya told his story, her Neptune eyes shimmering even as her body “hummed” along, pirouetting as he circled her so that she was constantly facing him. She broke into a graceful canter and followed him as he circled the tree, fluid and close as his own shadow — and when he fell into the sea, she swam along, cutting her tempo to a rolling adagio as her strides lengthened and eased. He dragged himself to her feet and grew still, his breath rattling in his breast, and she laid her tufted ears back at the memory, heart thudding painfully all over again.

Her breath caught in her chest as he drew himself up with inexorable slowness, his breath warm on her paws, her legs, her chest. Seelie looked down at him, unperturbed by the boldness of his stare, her cerulean eyes misted with emotion and wide with inquiry. Perhaps they didn’t have the answer he wanted to find. She loved him, could admit without shame or hesitation a certain possessiveness over him — after all, she had been the first to find him and care for him, and the sea had placed him upon her shores — but her love language was perhaps different than his, and she remained unaware of the feelings he kept locked tight. She stretched her nose toward him as he reached to kiss her, but he ghosted out of reach, placing his muzzle alongside his left forepaw.

For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, very softly, “Mere — ” she whispered, concentrating hard, extracting syllables from a memory too vibrantly drawn to fade. The other words…well, she didn’t remember them. The first thing he’d said, though…it was something like…

“Mere ba — ?”

She hoped it meant something nice, and she wasn’t inadvertently saying something uncouth in his mother tongue. She stretched out on the budding greenery like an obsidian carving of the jackal god, tail curling against one hip, and stretched forward to bathe his face in kisses as she had the day the water had given him to her. She touched her nose to his in a tender kunik.

“Mere dost?” she breathed.

"mere dost."

like a cool breeze, her words, uttered in his own tongue, fluttered toward him, punctuated by the touch of her nose to his. a ripple of something nameless but shocking in its intensity passed through him, and he swallowed, but held his ground.

she'd remembered. he'd called for his friend upon washing up at undersea. nando, lost to the waves. she'd remembered, but he had often forgotten, and now the grief came upon him. . .though not without a silver lining of joy. she had remembered, and she had spoken his language.

"mere dost," adi agreed, sadness like broken shards of glass in his eyes, so at odds with the smile stretching his lips. "haan, teri dost hoon. lekin chikni raat. . ." he trailed off, looking away. he took a step back, toward the base of the tree. gaze raking the island, its pristine shores, its lush verdant paradise.

he didn't want to leave here.

"main tumse pyaar karti hoon," he said suddenly, bringing his eyes back to hers. lost in the cerulean, the peace of her face. "aur main tumhaari pyaare bananaa chaahta hoon. nahin sirf teri dost."

adi knew it crossed a line, he knew he was reaching, but threw all caution to the wind in that moment, striding forward and embracing her, pressing his muzzle into the sleek fur at the nape of her neck.

“Mere dost,” Aditya murmured, his breath tangling warmly with Seelie’s. Her tail drummed a joyous, anxious tattoo against the curve of her hip, and her eyes were soft and intent with worry at the sadness she saw in his burnished sungold eyes. The pain in them warred with the mirthful curve of his mouth, and she understood the incongruence all too well. What she couldn’t understand was his language. Its gilded lilt and otherworldly allure appealed to her keen ears, and they strained forward in unfeigned attentiveness, popping skyward at the sound of her own name. In truth, she didn’t even really know what “mere dost” meant. She’d never asked. Now it seemed important to understand what those words had meant, though, because with them came a string of other unfamiliar lyrics that fell dumbly into silence and cracked and bled upon her waiting paws.

The atramentous Aralez could not glean much from what she knew empathically, either — she felt love and fury, sadness and joy, pain and pleasure, all tangled together, and it was impossible to tell what emotions belonged to Aditya and which ones were hers in. Mistakenly, she wondered whether he was thinking of Nando, his sealost friend — but she didn’t dare hazard a guess.

She was startled, but not alarmed, when he pressed his muzzle into the aphotic silk at her nape. Rising to her tiptoes, “Adi,” she breathed worriedly, leaning up to nibble at his withers, the plush feathering of her décolletage pressed seamlessly against his broad chest. She hooked the heel of one dainty forepaw around the instep of his carpus to keep them locked together, as though by anchoring him this way she could assuage some of the turmoil she thought she felt.

“Adi,” her breath winnowed through his guard hairs, “sad? Nando?”

he took in her scent, the heady aroma of it engulfing him, dragging him under like the waves had once done. except, there, it had been panic. this was peace, deep, dark bliss. peace with guilt, clouding the almost-perfect nature of the scene--but peace, nonetheless.

shanti, it was called in his mother's tongue. and now, all of a sudden, chikni raat seemed a completely inadequate moniker for the woman he embraced now. she was shanti, the embodiment of serenity. and he'd stay for as long as she would allow.

her words reached his ears, and adi felt their legs intertwine, the sweet susurrus of her voice like a gentle breeze against his pelt. sad? nando?

and he laughed, a sudden, choked sound, ringing through the air. ever so reluctantly, he pulled away from her, staring down at her with eyes that burned like the summer sun, relentless, vibrant. yet in this moment, he felt hollow, his stomach sinking slowly as he gazed upon her.

shanti. mera pyaar.

"yes," adi lied, a forced smile curving the lines of his wide, expressive mouth. he blinked softly at her, a sigh slipping through his muzzle. "but it's okay. he's at peace. . .and so am i."

for now, at least.

The ingenuous empath thought vaguely that all was not completely well with Aditya, but she believed the lie — what reason did she have to doubt him? “Adi,” she whispered, her gentle brow furrowed with concern, and she shook her head in mute bewilderment. Her Neptune eyes traced his bourbon-laced fur, the boldly drawn ink of his smile, the soot upon his cheek — and then they tangled warmly with the sungold of his gaze. “Peace be,” she wished him clumsily, nosing at his cheek, and gently disengaged. It was time they reconvened with Sorrel Marie and Catori.