Coconut Grove sometimes your words just hypnotize me

@Tristan or any other Margaritaville characters? She's going to head inland after this thread.

When she'd gathered enough energy to try and move off of the beach, she tried and failed. Every movement burned. Beneath the silver coat Minerva was a patchwork of bruises, and she was pretty sure there were other injuries—more dire ones—masked by the pressure in her skin. She didn't allow herself to breathe too deeply of the brine-heavy air, much as she wanted to fill herself with every ounce of the sea. Her trail led away from the bay and towards the south until there came a shuddering to the earth, and she was frightened enough by the sensation to move back out towards the coast; as she went, her path arched towards a grove of strange looking trees. They were unlike anything she'd need before. Looming out to sea. 

Minerva collapsed in a heap of loose sand beneath one of the trees. It was stout, dwarfed by everything else that grew around it, but offered her some shelter from the wind and sun. It was at this point that she allowed herself a tentative breath—slow, deep, careful.

As her lungs expanded something twitched along her side and she winced, gasping, exclaiming an off-pitch little yelp as the tightness of her sides became clear. Her ribs were certainly as bruised as the rest of her and she knew, somehow, that there was more damage there than she'd be able to handle. Something was cracked. She was lucky—the fracture hurt but it didn't amount to a pierced lung or something. Her heart thundered and she braced herself against the nearby palm tree, panting in quick bursts. Adrenaline spiked through her system to help curb the worst of the pain. 

She was oblivious to the scent of wolf around her—distracted by her aching body and hardly attentive to her surroundings.

The activities on the grove were becoming more and more worrisome for the monochrome woman. The tide would pull itself back far and rush back over, the minor trembles in the ground, everything felt overwhelming. She needed to find Tristan and speak to him soon, or else the worse may follow with the unknown trembles the earth had in store.

His scent lingered, but wasn’t heavily present. Gracious dude her best to
navigate, but she was caught off guard by the figure before her, down and against a tree. Who was this, and why were they in the land? While they weren’t official, Gracious had to be a little cautious with others. The last thing she wanted to do wasn’t initiate an argument or fight.

She chuffed loudly, letting her presence be known by the other before striving only a step or two closer. They didn’t look very scary in this moment. “Are you alright?” she asked aloud.

A sound behind her caused Minerva's closest ear to swivel, although it wasn't until she finally gathered up the energy to turn her head that she noticed the argent wolf drifting closer. Drifting wasn't the right term for it—the wolf was heavy-set and taller than anything she'd ever seen before, and their weighted steps sank in to the sand with each lurching stride. It was difficult at first for Minerva to focus beyond feeling intensely vulnerable; she couldn't tell if this was a bear or a wolf initially, and then as she was rising to her sore paws, she thought perhaps it was a man. Whether they were tasked with defending a tribe or not, menfolk were dangerous to encounter on their own—or so she had been taught. However, all of this transpired in the span of thirty seconds or so, and when the stranger spoke up, Minerva thought the voice was rather feminine. It almost didn't fit the figure she was looking at.

The stranger was watching her. They didn't appear to be aggressive now that they'd settled, and Minerva observed them in return, scrutinizing everything about them. She took a chance by calling out, Geia sou aderfí, although most of the sounds grated in her throat, muddying midway. Minerva tried to clear her throat and swallow the tension she felt, then tried again—this time choosing not to speak in her native tongue, which caused her voice to become quite strongly accented. Where is this? She queries, using the wrong phrase but, perhaps her meaning still carries.

It is not uncommon for her sisters to study languages outside of the native Greek, but Minerva had always been less interested in such pursuits; her realm of expertise had always been in the more physical, tangible aspects. If she could communicate by touch, by posture, perhaps even by sheer force of will, that would have been preferential. Alas, she would have to focus her mind and recall all of her childhood lessons if she was to communicate with this stranger. The feeling of a foreign language flowing from her tongue makes her uncomfortable; but it is the will of Mother Sea that she learn, and perhaps that is the reason for her abrupt arrival.

The language was new and unheard of by Gracious, it sounded exotic in her ears. Though, the speaker seemed to struggle with getting her words out. She returned to the common tongue of English, which gave the older woman some needed relief for the moment. Though, it was probably the other who needed the relief, she looked horribly exhausted.

With a lack of aggression being displayed, she walked closer to the foreigner. “This is my home, Margaritaville,” she said softly, keeping her tone gentle, “there are others here too.” She looked over her shoulder for a moment, wondering where the others were. She hadn’t even remembered seeing others besides Tristan and Wraen, and she wasn’t even from these parts of the land. Gracious wondered if Tristan’s promise of more members wasn’t as true as she wanted it to be. She shook of the doubts, now was not a good time to think of that.

Gracious turned her attention back to the other femme. She wasn’t sure where she came from, nor how she ended up under one of the trees, yet here she was. She was closer now, as close as she could get without standing directly on top of the other. In an act of kindness and perhaps a motherly instinct, Gracious nudged her nose close to the other’s cheek, and if she was allowed to, would brush it against the fur.

“Do you need help?” Whether it was time to recover from whatever journey she had embarked on or a bite to eat or fresh water to drink, Gracious wanted to provide some sort of assistance, it could even be serving as an escort for getting off the beach.

When the stranger heard her, understood, even responded, Minerva was briefly elated. Her judgement of the situation was right; they were either a native to this area or they were passing through, but at the very least they were friendly and — most importantly — female. However, the words that flowed from the stranger's mouth did not make much sense to her.

What kind of place had such a complicated name? What was a margaritaville? At the mention of others Minerva looked around quickly, half expecting to be set upon by whoever the giantess referred to. There was only stillness, save for the sussuration of the sea further north from her position. Still, her ears briefly pinned back and she sniffed the air with caution.

Do you need help? Asked the woman. Kindness was hardly to be expected here in this foreign place, but it was welcome.

Minerva deliberated for a few moments before she answered, either trying to think of the simplest way to explain herself or, maybe trying to summon the energy required for conversation. Her body was telling her to relax and to sleep, but that was foolish. When she opened her mouth and began to speak her voice was pedantic, mechanical. The common tongue did not suit her.

I am called Minerva. The mother sent me here. I am.. Sleep? I am wanting sleep, It felt like being back at home during a diplomacy lesson, if only she had paid more attention to her language studies! It had not seemed important then, and now she regretted her flippant disreguard for her tutelage. Hurt, I think? She murmured, and then tried to stand up. Her limbs shook, and before long she was slouching against the palm tree again, wincing and sore. Nothings are broken, I am thinking. Can you help?

And what debt would be incurred by asking?

Had she known the woman's thoughts about the homeland's name, Gracious would've given her a hearty laugh; it was a different name for sure, yet somehow seemed fitting for their seemingly calm leader. Though, the lands were changing right before their eyes, scents and shadows came and left and somehow the grove almost felt like a ghost town. Gracious hoped it was just her anxiety acting up and that it wasn't the truth about the fate for her home.

Returning her attention to the other, her name being Minerva, Gracious did her best to listen closely. She didn't sound very clear with her words, it almost seemed like english was not her first language. That was fine though, english could be hard for the foriegn speakers. Gracious wished at times she could learn another language just to prove she was intelligent enough to know how to speak to others from another land. When the other spoke of a mother sending her here, Gracious felt a bit confused. This woman looked old enough to be on her own, perhaps her mother sent her away to explore on her own for her new life? Whatever the cause, she only hummed. The talk of sleep is what caught more of her attention. She could offer a place to sleep, somewhere protected from the salt wind and hot sand.

"We need to move you somewhere else if you want to sleep, it is dangerous to be exposed." The talk of injuries came next, and although Gracious wasn't a license doctor, she did know enough about herbs to hopefully find things that may ease pain. Though, it may be hard to find them in this sandy terrain. "Can you help?"

By god, she'd try her best to.

She nodded her head swiftly, she wanted to do her best to help this poor woman who seemed out of luck. "I'll do my best to, let's move you inland and then I will do my best," she suggested to her, "can you stand and walk?" Moving didn't sound wonderful, but it may be the best option the duo have to help Gracious not leave Minerva out of her sight for too long.

She was right, of course. It was dangerous for her to linger here when she could be caught by strangers, and she did not know the area well enough to seek shelter anywhere. It didn't help that Minerva was still recovering from her near-death in the sea; but she trusted in her mothers, and knew that they had sent this woman to her for a reason. With a sigh she tried to rise, but failed. She tried again as the silver-clad woman came closer and with some help, managed to get back to her feet. Her haunches trembled and she felt a pounding in her head which led to a low-grade sense of vertigo, almost settling her back down against the sand.

I can walk. I think. Once.. Once the shifting stops, Minerva murmurs vaguely, feeling the world swaying around her even when she closes her eyes. When the swooning sensation finally ebbs and she can stand without too much issue, she limps towards the woman—nearly brushing up against her when she feels her balance shifting erroneously out of her own control, and then she hastily tries to correct herself. How could she possibly survive in this place if she couldn't even walk?

The other is still relatively sharp in her mind and her ability to speak. Gracious watched her carefully as she stood up. It was like trying to watch a fawn stand for the first time, though the sense of haste still nipped at the mountain woman's heels due to the need to get away from the water and sand. "Move slowly, if you must. Falling will be harder to get up from." . Slow and steady, it was the best option for the two at the moment.

Minerva walks a few steps, though when Gracious saw her lose a bit of balance and try to reclaim her ground, she brushed herself up against her, shoulder by shoulder. "Lean on me, we will walk together, slow." . Gracious wanted to help in any way she could, whether that meant practically carrying the woman on top of her if need be. She was strong enough to.