Wheeling Gull Isle bismil

Forward-dated to October 1st; I wanted enough time to get this all sorted out before then.

 

shakti.

he stepped onto the sand of the beach, slow and deliberate, his paws sinking into the sand, leaving tracks behind. clear, out in the open. it would be a fair fight, today. no hiding in the trees, nor climbing the peak to escape. it was time to lay each and every card on the table. it was time.

bahaduri.

aditya rolled his shoulders, the muscles underneath his pelt rippling with the movement. he walked like a prizefighter, head high, both swagger and sincerity glinting in his gaze. the gulls called overhead; the waves crashed upon the isle. far off, the cliffs of the mainland rose high and foreboding over the water, a reminder of the life he so readily cast away now.

mohabbat.

he stopped and tipped his muzzle to the sky, letting out an ululating cry. for @Stockholm, and @Coelacanth, too. and anyone else who cared to watch. truth be told, he'd rather have an audience. witnesses. no one could deny what had happened this day, should there be plenty of eyes on the scene. no one would ever forget.

bismil, bismil, bulbul-e-bismil,
mat mil, mat mil, gul se mat mil,
mushkil-e-dil bhi mushkil hoti hai.

dil dhadke dil, dil dhadke do,
dhadkan-e-dil bhi harkat-e-dil hoti hai,
khushboo-e-gul mein ishq bhara hai--

mat mil, mat mil, gul se mat mil,
ae bulbul-e-bismil.

Just getting this in my threadlog.  She's just a spectator.  Feel free to ignore her for now.  Please skip me if things pick up, but I'd like to get three posts in altogether for trade purposes.

It is not the seadog or her husband that is first on the scene, but one of Undersea's sentinels.  'Io guards the island as fiercely as she had guarded Bearclaw Valley.  Something about this man and his step cause every hair along the ridge of her spine to stand on end.

For now she waits in the shadows.  She's been wrong before.

The call that comes from the Strand this day is different than the summons that Stockholm is used to answering. But answer he does, traversing from inland to the shore at an efficient and unassuming gait. And it does not surprise him at all that Seelie’s 'Io is already present, lingering back in the shadows like the faithful guardian she is.

The details of what has transpired between Aditya and Seelie are vague and hazy due to the Aralez’s reluctance to broach such subjects for her own reasons, and Stockholm’s inclination not to pressure her. But the Gampr is not blind nor ignorant. Still, he approaches Aditya with a friendly air – albeit it tinged with slight caution, he is familiar with what the meaning behind that sort of posture and bearing normally is. “Aditya,” he offers in greeting, making no assumptions, simply inclines his head slightly and waits for what the man has to say.

he smelled someone nearby, but left it be for now. it was the burly pale man that approached that he sought out, and a sick sense of pleasure bloomed in his stomach, oddly akin to fear. perhaps it was fear, and his bravado masked it as pleasure. either way, aditya nodded at the man's greeting, shifting his weight to steady himself.

"stockholm," he answered, gilded gaze fixed on the overseer. "i'm glad you have come. i've something to say to you, but it must wait until coelacanth arrives."

and so they would wait. the sea breeze caressed his pelt, lifting the fine, silken ends and giving the appearance of bristling--but there was none of that. not yet, anyway. no, this would be an interaction as calm as could be. . .as long as stockholm gave him what he wanted, without argument.

there would be an argument, he knew. he would not emerge unscathed. but hope sprang eternal.

Coelacanth and Hemlock had devoted the day to tending the western garden. The added responsibility of corralling six puppies made the task a delicate one, but Seelie wouldn’t have it any other way — and eight pairs of eyes watched raptly as a bore tide rolled past Morningside Moor, a cowlick of brackish water spilling over the marshland. “That was a big one,” the Kali woman chuckled warmly, explaining the phenomenon to Mur, Fern, Grayling, Thresher, Sixgill, and Koi. She was still in the middle of her explanation when Aditya’s call struck the air. By this time, the puppies had grown accustomed to their parents’ duties as Aralez and Overseer, and there were few protests. In fact, it was Seelie who needed the most encouragement to get off her fluffy butt and do her damn job — she would rather have spent time with the babies! — but she eventually whipped around, sprinting along the Strand at breakneck speed.

Unlike her stalwart protectors, the sheepdog lacked an innate sense of, “Hey, something weird is going on.” Off-island, she was as wary as any wolf, but there was no reason for her to suspect that anything bad would happen here. Here was a sanctuary of safety, peace, and healing. Here was home. She bounced into view with nothing but dumb dog affection in her eyes, glancing from Stockholm to Aditya and back again, aware of `Io’s presence but not drawing attention to the shadow-wrapped raven. It took a moment for her to recognize that she had intruded upon a conversation of sorts, and her body language quieted and grew demure out of respect. Her expression, too, smoothed into a waiting stillness; but her eyes were alive with seasparkle and an oblivious sort of joy that they were all here, together, in peace.

The request is understandable, since the call had been not just for him, but for the Aralez as well. And Stockholm nods in affirmation to this. They do not have to wait long though, Coelacanth seems to materialize at the mention of her name, an inky rocket darting down the shoreline to join them. The unfettered joy that radiates off her as she bounces up alongside them is palpable, and though Stockholm isn’t entirely sure of exactly what Aditya’s intent is, he is sure it is not happy news of any kind, and it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth to know that the merriment Seelie currently possesses will be stolen away for a time.

Despite that though his tone is warm if not slightly neutral, giving the benefit of the doubt. “What is it you wanted to say to us?”

oh, so lovely she was! he cast his gaze over her, knowing that the moment he opened his mouth, everything would change, for better or for worse. never would they enjoy the same relationship that they did now. he met her cerulean eyes for a long moment before turning back to stockholm, blinking slowly, steadying himself.

"you," he amended. "i have something to say to you, stockholm. coelacanth already knows how i feel." adi acknowledged her with a nod, the barest smile touching his muzzle, before it faded again. "my heart is hers. as a man cannot live without a heart, so too i cannot live without coelacanth."

his stare was gimlet, cutting into the man's broad face. "i've come here to take her away. with or without your permission. i love her, and i cannot stop. and deep down, i know she loves me, too. despite everything." the distance. the children. stockholm. all trivial. hell, they could take the children with them--

he could kill stockholm.

"let her go with me, and no blood will be shed today," aditya reasoned, as if making the most innocuous of treaties between packs. "but i came prepared to fight for her. i will spill my heart's blood to win her from you, kyonki zindagi pyaar bina kuch nahin hai."

aditya stared at coelacanth, then, hoping to see straight down to her soul. "come with me," he said softly enough she'd need to read his lips. "come with me, chikni raat. mera pyaar, mera jaan." his breath hitched suddenly in his throat, passion and fear altogether, and he looked between the two of them, stiff with anticipation.

Inhale.

“What is it you wanted to say to us?”

Exhale.

“You. I have something to say to you, Stockholm.”

Inhale, and hold.

All the effervescent joy hemorrhaged from Seelie’s expression before Aditya even completed his bold confession. Her bright eyes were a tumbling kaleidoscope of confusion, heartbreak, love, and guilt — and it wasn’t until the once beloved wayfarer threatened bloodshed that something rare and terrifying surfaced: anger.

Along her spine, withers, and hips, her hackles rose; her tufted ears thrust forward upon her skull; her Neptune eyes glittered with a sheepdog’s eerie intensity. It gave her no pleasure to be vied for this way. She was not a vain creature and did not relish the thought of Aditya pining for her when he had a wife at home — especially when that wife was her kinswoman! Still, her voice was a gentle plea and not a whiplash when she commanded him, “Adi. Go home. Dawn.” There was so much to process and work through here, and being angry with Aditya made her realize that she was also residually angry with Titmouse — something she hadn’t given herself the time or space to process and thus hadn’t been able to recognize until now.

Of course she loved him! Her tail whirred desperately, but it was a nervous gesture that bore no mirth. Why was this happening outside the breeding season? After her confusing first heat, Seelie had almost come to expect that the males she loved, save Stockholm, might become brutish and hurtful during the winter months. That was why `Io had reeked of sex the time Seelie and Stockholm had tracked her wounded wails in the snowy wood. “Dawn,” she repeated, invoking the name like a talisman, quailing from his stare and backing away a pace. “Mere dost. Go home.”

A mixture of expressions play across the Gampr’s face as he listens to Aditya. There is a strange, sinking feeling in his gut at the beginning as he begins to fully put the puzzle pieces together. It is followed by the equivalent of ‘ummm… come again? I’m pretty sure I misheard you say something crazy there, friend’, and directly on the heels of that the back and forth play of incredulous and offended.

After a moment he opens his mouth to respond, but Seelie speaks first, and he can’t help but turn his head to look at her. His short cropped ears fan back against his skull briefly before twitching forward once more, and when he turns his gaze back to Aditya there is a thread of accusation in the expression; look, you made her upset.

He’s still processing, there is so much he could say. And there is a very instinctual and possessive reaction bubbling just below the surface of what is otherwise a mostly calm demeanor, all things considered. But the hair between his shoulderblades has begun to bristle, and something in his posture slowly stiffens. “If,” he begins, choosing his words carefully, because he is Undersea’s Overseer, after all – he must at least attempt to be diplomatic here, right? “If Seelie were to tell me she wished to go with you, I would not stand in your way.” Okay, he might stand in the way just a little. It is hard to fathom the thought of losing her, and yet at the same time he feels wholeheartedly his next statement: “I do not own her, no one does. She needs my permission for nothing.” He draws forward a step then, turning to put his body between Aditya and Seelie, a taunt curl in his tail and a low growl in his voice. “But I will not allow you to take her anywhere against her will.”

home. dawn. He shakes his head, continuously, an automaton. "no dawn. no dawn. nothing. no dawn. no home." home was the plateau, when things were good. dawn. . .dawn--

--with the stranger, his limbs coiled around hers;

alarian's narrow hips under aditya's--

pressure--press----oh god. . .

"you're my home, seelie--"

fire rose in his vision, like the blaze on the plains. he felt it sear his face once more, setting the ends of his hair alight. the fur on his spine lifted. his pupils dilated, and--

grayday on the ground, cold and still--

river, his throat cut in a ditch.

the morningsiders, cast to the wind. and with no one to lead them. no one. aditya was no one, he was a nobody, he had always been a nobody and he always would be a nobody. He was worth nothing, he meant nothing, nothing, to anyone, AND THE ONE TIME HE HAD WANTED SOMEONE MORE THAN ANYTHING BEFORE-----

in. out. in. out. and there was his heart, thump thud thump thud THUMP THUD and

there was blood in his gaze and the smell of ashes in his nose and

WHY SEELIE WHY HIM WHY NOT ME WHY WHYWHY--

everything was wrong. and everything had always been wrong and would always be wrong, haye bhagwaan! kya karoon? kya matlab?

KYON? KYON? KYON?

and there was a screaming, a screaming that WONT STOP STOP STOP

 STOP STOP STOP IT STOP IT STOP STOP STOP STOPSTO P STOSP STOSPTSOP------



a snarl ripped from aditya's throat, and he lunged at stockholm, teeth aimed directly at the man's collared throat.

no limbs, no appendages, no organs, no death. otherwise: have at him, seawolves.

It was in this spectacularly traumatizing way that Coelacanth mistakenly came to believe that Dawn had perished. The notion that the gunmetal girl was alive and well (as well as one could be this soon after her beloved father's passing) never crossed the sheepdog’s mind. Only death itself, irrevocable and unforgiving, could explain Aditya — a bastion of warmth and light, a friend she loved dearly — turning into into the stuff of nightmares before her very eyes. Dawn had died, and Aditya was grieving, and seadeeps, she wanted to comfort him! — but he was frightening her (hurting her!) with the tormented roar of his body and the anguished screaming of his soul. Stockholm, clearly confused and understandably disconcerted, managed to maintain a semblance of calm — something that Seelie was immeasurably grateful for, even if she was a Bad Dog who did not deserve such mercy.

“You’re my home, Seelie — ”

I am not. I am your kinswoman —

When Aditya leapt, the burning coattails of a vitriolic snarl whistling between his bared teeth, so did Seelie. Her small stature and overall lack of combat experience would count against her, but her top speed was tachyonic, and there were few things that motivated her more than protecting her flock (giant fluffy Gamprs included). Dark lips peeled back to display with reckless abandon every tooth in her mouth. She did not go for the throat but merely tried to pit her snapping jaws against the threat her once-beloved posed. She choked out a raspy, kittenish growl as she sought to wedge herself between the Gampr and the wolf; the sound would have been a full-throated warcry in a dog with a functioning larynx. As her mouth pooled with the salt-and-iron taste of blood, she thought brokenly:

My children would have called you uncle or cousin or brother. Oh, Adi. What have you done?

Oh he should have been faster, should have been more alert. When he came crashing onto the scene things were already unruly. His gut twisted at the sign of Seelie having to be so sharp. A whine bubbled up in his throat before he ran in from the sideline.

Rokig was going to use his compact frame the best he could. He wanted to knock the stranger away from Undersea's rulers. He did not care what happened to him. He had stopped caring about that long ago. Perhaps when Lainie had withered under his care.

He merely closed his eyes and prayed for impact that would shove them all apart.

He can feel it, see it, seconds before it actually sets into motion. The realization of the inevitable. There is a clear pattern of events in his head of what he wants to happen – hip-check Seelie out of the way of danger, try to get a hold of the other man’s shoulder or scruff and leverage his weight to take him to the ground, maybe find a way to pin him there and hold him until he comes to his senses.

And then there is what actually happens instead.

Seelie is a dark blur in motion before he can move to shove her out of the way; fast, faster than him. No! He means to shout it, but the word catches in his throat as Aditya’s jaws meet his neck. He snarls, lips wrenched back across teeth, but he knows the collar will keep the other man from sinking his teeth in too deeply, an attempt to do so would do more damage to the inside of his mouth than it would to the Gampr’s throat. He has worn the collar since he was a yearling, he trusts it to protect those vital weak spots. Instead of trying to maneuver away he pushes forward into the attack but he is limited in how he can retaliate because of Seelie’s presence, so he makes an attempt to salvage part of his plan – snapping at Aditya’s shoulder to try and get a hold of him in hopes of still getting a chance to wrestle him to the ground. He needs to somehow get Seelie out of the way first though so she doesn’t get trampled or squashed or worse – damnit, Seelie, what are you doing. This should be between him and Aditya, no one else. It is his job to protect Seelie, to protect the seawolves. If anyone is to be injured, it should be him, not the Aralez nor anyone else.

He’s too focused on what is happening directly in front of him to be aware of anything in his periphery; he doesn’t see Rokig coming until he is right upon them and it’s too late to really react in any way other than to think – oh crap – and realize that 'Io is most likely seconds from joining the fray as well.

Komodo had watched the entire scene unfold from the shadows; tucked back into the tree line, where no one could scry him unless they were trying very hard to do just that. He had an ill feeling for days; an energy which the earthstalker had channeled into good works ‘round the territory, or into his romance with undersea’s raven, but was relatively unsuccessful at relieving. No matter how many times he hunted, chanted, fucked, or committed himself to ceremony, he could not rid himself of the feelings that things were not quite right — and Komodo was a man who could admit when he was not in control of things, but did not necessarily like it.

But now, as the man stated his peace to the Overseer and the Aralez, with the raven and the agakkuq stationed covertly off to the side, Komodo began to understand why.  

He had known Aditya from afar, never feeling the need to ever find the man and get to know him — and now that Komodo had seen what he had just seen, he was left unimpressed and unenthused. Oh, did this stranger believe that he was special for being cast under Seelie’s spell, for the mottle brute had felt very much the same at one point, but Komodo had done what was necessary by recusing himself from leadership and the sheepdog’s presence entirely. It was what needed to be done for the betterment of Undersea. Aditya, however, took a different route to a much different end. 

The very second that Aditya lunged was the very second that the hulking brute was on his feet, rushing towards the place where both leaders — and now Rokig — were on the defense. Though he was quick to react, he was loathe to join and fight and commit bloodshed, for Komodo never believed in death or pain for any reason other than sustenance or ceremony, and the suicidal woes of a sad, lovelorn man did not fall into either of these categories. He did, however, immediately recognize Stockholm’s need to remove the fragile woman from the center of the fray, lest she be injured by the fallout of the man who had nothing to lose. Like a faithful shepherd, and not unaware of the role-reverse at play here, Komodo wove his large frame into the framework of the quickly-painted image and made to intercept Seelie and steer her out of danger’s way. He prayed she would yield easily.  

Undersea's watchdog was not as kind or as well bred as her lover.  The moment that things began to spin out of control -- out of her control -- ignited some distant, feral part of her brain that had been buried upon her departure from Bearclaw Valley.

'Io had no moral compass to guide her.  She had no qualm with being judge, jury, and executioner.  If there was one thing she knew well, it was how to kill.

Fortunately for Aditya but unfortunately for her, the Universe that Komodo and Coelacanth revered had other plans.  Despite being first on the scene she was late to enter the fray.  'Io snarled and barked, a splintery and unpleasant noise as she more or less forced herself between the struggling bodies of her packmates and made to latch on hard to Aditya's flank, pulling with a strength reminiscent of an irrevocable force.  Her intent was to pull him back as Stockholm forced forward and Rokig pressed him into her, and jerk him into a vulnerable position.

THUD, thump, snap--snap--qshhhhhhhhhhh----

blood, bone, crack, and the give of flesh to teeth, then--

a blinding pain (stockholm's collar slicing open his face, his lips, his tongue), tears blurring his vision.

more shadows came, one by one. an impact, then another, then another.

but whatever had taken over aditya was urging him to kill, kill,, KILL--and so he tore and ripped, bit and scratched, mindlessly, sightlessly, a whirlwind fury, a chaos, a tempest, like the storm that had brought him here;

and it was only when fangs sank into a pelt that was black rather than brown did everything stop suddenly,

the earth lurching to a dizzying halt,

and he realized the weight of what he had done.

adi stumbled back--if he could--covered head to toe in blood (either his or theirs). his golden eyes were wide as the harvest moon, blank with shock, his mouth, torn to shreds, hanging open. staring at coelacanth, who had entered the fray--who he'd hurt.

the wolf he had never meant to hurt. the woman he loved more than his own life. and he'd thrown it in her face. he had met her resistance with violence, and he--rightfully--had bled for it.

and he had hurt her, too.

"mujhe maf kar do," he gasped, his voice choked in sobs that came suddenly, more terrifying than his snarls, the tears mixing with blood. "haye, bhagwaan, haye coelacanth--mujhe maf kijiye--i'm sorry, GOD, i'm sorr--what have i done--"

he braced himself for more impact, more assault. he deserved it. he hoped they'd kill him. in this moment, he wanted nothing more but to die.

all he could do was apologize. in his tongue and theirs. over and over and over again, 'til he sounded alien and possessed, wanting so badly to embrace her--

--and knowing he would never touch her again.

Moorhen, too, threw herself into the fray. She had not liked Aditya being on the island in the first place, but she had never once thought he might bring harm down upon them. Especially not by his own jaw.

It didn't make sense, and Moorhen worried there had been some misunderstanding in the strange parrying of words they had engaged in. Instead of seeking to harm the interloper, Moorhen just tried to get him away from the Overseer, who seemed to be the focus of his anguish. For her efforts, she was rewarded with a bruised jaw and a cut on her shoulder, where the Overseer's spined ornament had slid a little too quickly and forcefully across her skin. Not enough to slow her down.

Together, the Undersea wolves managed to get him away from his target - but not before the unthinkable happened.

Heat exploded across Moorhen's vision when she realized what had been done to their Aralez. She would live, but how could another wolf turn their teeth against her? The dark woman wanted to take revenge, to maim and kill for what had been done to her leader, but she knew that even as Coelacanth's blood stained the sand that the Aralez would forgive him. She always forgave.

The fight had gone out of Aditya. Moorhen pitied him. "Go in shame," she barked. "Do not return."

She did not move to stop her fellows from their assault, but she would try to temper any killing blows. He would slink off on his own legs if she had anything to say about it, and would forever carry the black sin he had committed on this day.

Seelie was fast, faster than Stockholm — but not quite fast enough. The vicious clash of her bared teeth gnashing against Aditya’s was all too brief, his incensed passion far too great to be absorbed by her reared head, her small body. In a jaw-spar, she was no match for any grown wolf, let alone a wolf as towering as the gold-etched male. She licked at her gums and tasted the foul confederation of her blood and his, but the metallic tang was immediately washed away with a current of bitterness that he should so visibly sully Stockholm with his touch. Swaths of crimson painted the pale hollow of the Gampr’s throat, and though no wolf could hear, Seelie vented her fury in a thin scrap of expelled breath.

Rokig, `Io, Moorhen, and even Komodo had leapt to join the fray, and the Aralez was easily jostled out of harm’s way. Couldn’t they see how badly she needed this?! Stockholm, the island, the seawolves — they belonged to her! She did not want safety; she wanted to fight! There was a frenzied beating in her blood. Her hummingbird heart was a target, and every new wound was a firing squad. The inkdark empath felt each blow as a mark upon her own flesh and quite lost herself in the almost carnal nature of battle.

She did not notice, therefore, when Aditya’s fangs found purchase in the tender juncture of throat, collarbone, and spur of shoulder. She was too busy being stupid, trying to stubbornly insert herself between her husband and the others. It came as a shock when all motion seemed to stop, and Aditya was Aditya again, weeping and speaking in the lyrical singsong of his mothertongue. A soft smile was on her face when her limbs abruptly failed her and she sank bonelessly to the sand. There you are, Adi! bespoke the warm recognition writ in her Neptune eyes — but when her gaze passed inevitably from him to Stockholm after a beat (a symbol, perhaps, of what had transpired to shape their fates this way) she remembered.

As her blood streamed into the sand, so too did the warmth and love bleed from her visage. She rose, bobbling slightly, and she looked at him, and she told him plainly in a shredded rasp, “I did.” Her voice and face were entirely stubborn, utterly mutinous, and overwhelmed with hurt — because she had loved him, more purely than most, and while she could forgive any cruelty leveled against her, she resented his actions against her mate and family. “Peace go.” She still wished him peace, for this was not who she believed he was intrinsically, but the change in syntax was eloquent. He was not welcome here — not right now. Then she turned her back on him, as much as it pained her, and tried to make a dignified exit.

She made it about three paces before she collapsed.

There was a pain in his shoulder, likely caused by the graze of someone's teeth alas he could not figure out who. It didn't matter because he knew who his target was. Even their cries of an apology did not soothe the fire that had been set ablaze in his belly.

He did not see Seelie pull away or collapse, did not recognize any of the others who had attempted to help break down this threat. His eyes could only see the foreign male. Rokig aimed to slam into him again. To keep pushing him away from everyone. He growled sharply as he attempted his herding. The wordless message was clear. Leave.

He is both aware and unaware of his injuries. He feels the pain and the sting as they are inflicted, smells his own blood mingled in with the blood of his aggressor and of his packmates. But he is numb to them through a combination of adrenaline and a primal need to protect his mate and his fellow seawolves as much as he can.

When Aditya staggers back he moves forward with the intent to keep trying to force him further away but something in his expression makes the Gampr pause as the other man breaks down into tears – it is only then he becomes aware of Seelie’s injury. His gaze snaps to the side, fixed on the crimson pooling in the sand at her feet. Your job to keep her safe, you failed. He moves as if to take a step towards her, but he is not a healer, not a medicine man of any kind; he will only be in the way of those that can administer aid, he knows this. And it pains him to not rush to her side, but Komodo is there, and he trusts the man to tend to her.

His focus realigns on Aditya – and it is a good thing, because if he had witnessed Seelie’s attempt to leave the scene and her following collapse, it might have blinded him with anger and caused him to seek to dish out further injuries. Instead he only stalks forward, tail curled over his back and teeth bared, echoing Moorhen’s words and Rokig’s silent but forceful message; “Leave. Now.”

Permission granted for the small bit of power playing here

Komodo was astounded at the speed that things started, and the speed with which things ended. He rounded Coelacanth and ushered her away from the worst of the brawl, but not before a blow befell his momentary ward and rendered her wounded. There is red — from Aditya, from Seelie, and perhaps from Stockholm — and the scent of blood and fear permeate the ceasefire.

The man cried and wailed as the others bade him to leave, which stirred a primordial response within the angakkuq. He leapt forward, as would a grand lion leaping upon his prey, grasped the back of the madman’s withers, and pulled him with significant force to ground — hoping knocking the racking sobs right out of him. Aditya had not been doing anything, nor had committed more affronts to the woman and the lands he claimed to love, but Komodo felt it to be a message that bore repeating. 

“Git it together,” he ground out from between his gritted teeth, luxuriating in the way he could feel the hardness of the ground though there was a body between them, and almost surprisingly, in the way the blood pooled around the points where his incisors pierced the thick skin of the man’s shoulder.  “ 'n be betta.” the earthstalker grumbled and, with a final shove against the dirt, released the grip he had upon the broken man.  “An’ neva furget whut happened heer.” He kept a keen eye on the man, just to make sure that he would not dare rise and strike again, but Komodo noted the crowd that had gathered — including his feral love, with a glint in her eyes that also stirred something primordial in him — and felt comfortable turning his healing attention to the one who needed it most.

When he turned to find Seelie, broken and alone, he rushed closer and began an initial examination of the superficial wounds; upon a patient he hoped never to treat.

their reactions were so varied, so different. the wolf with the striped ribs, so cool in her fury. stockholm, who had every right to kill him right here, right now, much the same. the gray one pushing him back, and komodo's teeth in his scruff. it hurt, but not as much as coelacanth's last words.

peace go. it could have been 'please,' but he knew it meant 'peace.' even after he had brought her violence, she wanted for him nothing but peace.

he didn't deserve her. no one did--but least of all him.

driven back by the inexorable nipping of the brown woman at his heels, he stumbled off the beach and onto the sandbar, then, when the scene was far enough in the distance, he fled. but not before seeing chikni raat collapse. his heart had broken, then, and he didn't know if he would ever be whole again. he was. . .

there was a lot of blood. he could barely stand; his vision swam. but he ran and ran, not knowing where to go besides home, but he couldn't go back to morningside. no, everything was--

was so fucked up--

he'd fucked up.

but hey, he might get lucky. he might die, somewhere along the way.

Sorry to post out of turn! Preparing to fly back to the states and I do not want to get eaten by the sweeper.

Instinct decreed that any physical touch was a threat. Though the Earthstalker was gentle in his ministrations, the sheepdog recoiled, skittering unsteadily away as if she had been burned. In many ways, she had been. Continually opening herself up to strangers and erstwhile aggressors alike was folly; for Coelacanth, to do otherwise was simply impossible. A small cut above one eye wept and dribbled rubies into the Neptune globe. She blinked reflexively, gazing at Komodo with a wounded, one-eyed gimlet stare, but in that moment it did not seem she recognized who he was or what he wanted with her. Panting raggedly, crimson streaming down into the sand from myriad inkdark quills, she tucked her muzzle to guard the series of punctures and moderately significant tear at the hollow of her throat, shielding her weakness from view.