Sequoia Coast Like whirlpools

The Nereides female had been in meditation since they arrived on the sound. The twinkling light show in the water returned every night, and came to life with every shift of the water in the dark hours. It was an undeniable sign that the place they frequented was blessed. Psamathe ruminated on this.

But she thought about many other things, as well. She had found many tide pools in the shelter of a cavern, and had retreated there almost every day after her morning prayers to the Mothers, hoping the Mothers would tell her things. By Aktaiê's updates, she was kept abreast of the pack's progress, and knew there were at least two Neophytes. She also knew that for whatever reason, the Mothers had sent Akantha and her charge away from them.

It wasn't Psamathe's right as an Adept to think ill of her sisters for their choices. She wholly believed it wasn't their doing, but the Sea's will. They were needed elsewhere, she reasoned. The waters were murky about the why, and even about the true hearts of their Neophytes, and so eventually, Psamathe stopped asking. She chose to see for herself, and that was the first day she walked the strand openly, with clear eyes and head held proudly up, the picture of a trueborn Sea Nymph with her slow, graceful gait and her soft gaze. The sky was overcast, but in a calm sort of way, with pale grey the predominant shade. To her right, the ocean crashed restlessly, singing her a quiet siren's song and soothing her worried soul.

In the frothy tide pool the drenched scullion perched over a sleek stone and watched with avid interest the darting shrimp that wheedled along the smooth edge. The seaweed that adorned the stone was heavy and reek against her, half baked and exposed in the waning sun. Caiaphas tilted her muzzle to the side as the shrimp scattered from her looming shadow - and all that was left to suggest their presence was the uplifted sand twirling idly in the shallow water.

She looked up, disappointed by their departure. She squinted as she caught the sight of another wolf -- and with a protective woof she launched herself expertly from the slippery rock and splashed recklessly through the shadows in a lofty and assured trot.

But as she drew closer and the figurine became more visible between the bedazzling reflection of the water and the sharply lit sand, Caiaphas' suggestively aggressive posture diminished. She recognized the female as a fellow Nereides, but did not know her name. She studied the female, who strode with great conviction to her step. Meekly, Caiaphas slowed to a halt and hailed the female with a gentle low of greeting.

The edge where sand met sky was hazy, undulating like a mirage in the distance and obscuring Psamathe's vision. Though she was blinded by the heat drifting off the ground, her senses were on high alert, and when a shadow detached itself from the surroundings and began a mad approach, she was ready. Her steps slowed until she was standing still, awaiting the arrival of the splashing silhouette... And when Caiaphas entered into clear sight, the scryer was not disappointed by the other's posture.

A Neophyte who approached an Adept in such a manner would easily have been thrown to the ground in Themiscrya, but Psamathe was a gentle creature, and accepted the seamless shift from aggression to acceptance that occurred in the gaunt newcomer. There was something vaguely spooky about the hybrid, but the Nereides couldn't put a finger on it.

“You are one of the Neophytes,” she assumed, though she could make no guesses aside from that. The opposing female was thin, with tapered points accented by her sharp silver coat. The swath of black fur that made up her entire head was interesting enough to keep Psamathe staring for a time, but it was with half-lidded and soft eyes that she stared. “What has brought you back into the sight of Mother Sea and Mother Moon?”

Admittedly, the towheaded wretch felt a little silly for her faux pas -- and her muscles tensed as if anticipating a reprimand or recourse for the brash manner in which she approached. But in truth, Caiaphas felt very protective of the strand and even if she was disciplined for her unruliness, she would likely commit the same mistake again.

Any sign of territorial aggression crumpled once the female spoke: thus ascertaining she was, indeed, part of the tribe Caiaphas had recently aligned herself with. Her posture lowered and she stared instead at the vein of copper brilliance that wrapped around the female's slender and powerful legs.

Once Psamathe was finished speaking Caiaphas answered with a swiftness that exposed the deference she was exhibiting in her posture. Yet for a moment she fumbled - the way the female articulated her inquiry made her wonder if she meant in direction of her recent excursions, or if she meant what had brought her to the tribe. "I've been scouting. There are many packs here, though none so close as the Bay. I am Caiaphas, by the way." She shifted, her gaze brushing across the finely contoured visage of the female before deferring. "What can I do to help?" Her tone suggested her impatience, though it was lidded gently by urgency. "I feel a vagrant - we have been in limbo for too long and if we wait another pack may seize the coast."

She almost looked apologetically at the brilliantly colored female, but at the same time -- Caiaphas had found something she felt an affinity for and passionately was refusing to let go.

The Neophyte misunderstood the question or else chose to answer differently than the Adept had expected, but that was fine by her. Psamathe spoke formally all the time, and was almost always ambiguous in her questions. There was no such thing as a direct inquiry or statement for the scryer, who often imagined herself an intellectual. That was what made her a Sea Nymph, after all.

As Caiaphas explained her recent activity, Psamathe kept an appraising eye on her. It was impossible to tell from first impressions where the black-headed female's strengths might lie, but the Adept nevertheless attempted to predict where the Neophyte might find herself. Something deep and primal told her it wouldn't be the school of the Sea Nymphs... Although she had definitely been wrong before, and much remained to be seen.

The other's impatience came through her words, teasing a light smile onto Psamathe's lips. Despite the deference shown to her, the scryer displayed no outward dominance herself. That was exclusively for the consorts and outsiders. “The matriarch has much on her mind. Only the Mothers can assure this claim, and Aktaiê must pray extensively for Their final blessing.” A twinkle entered her eye at the thought of the strand being stolen, and with a knowing lift to her smile, she tilted her snout down and crooned, “the Mothers will never allow another soul to set their claim upon this land. This is known.”

“But we must do our part as Their daughters,” she concluded, gesturing for the other to follow her toward their chosen territory's flanking cliffs with a flick of her muzzle, “and so we must form a concrete perimeter ourselves. Have you been marking, νεόφυτος?”

Caiaphas did not miss the light smile that played on the female's visage -- though what for, was entirely unknown to the female. The manner in which Psamathe responded suggested Caiaphas had not answered poorly, yet she could not shake thought that she had chosen the wrong inflection in which to answer.

She mutely followed behind the female as she gestured for her to follow - her gaze darkly traced the jutting cliffs in which she delightfully imagined throwing many enemies off of. Despite the destructive and whimsical thoughts, her expression remained doleful.

The other female's certainty was not shared - and likely, for very different reasons. Caiaphas was nowhere near as confident as the intrepid scyer, and she missed the bemused twinkle in the female's eyes at the notion of the strand being taken from them. It was not known to Caiaphas in the same way it was known to Psamathe -- and likely, it never would be.

Psamathe asked her if she had been marking. Caiaphas had not. She briefly entertained the delightful idea of lying, but elected against it. She chose instead to answer in a half-truth. "No. I was worried it is not my place?"

"It is the place of all wolves," she said softly, turning to lead them closer to the cliffs. Their territory would be ringed by them, shut off from the outside world but for a narrow passage leading to the top and the sands at the edge of the bay. She seemed steady on the sand despite its movement underfoot. Psamathe was most comfortable here on the beach, but refused to show any of her discomfort in going elsewhere to anyone except her blood sister. Only Aktaie knew of her unwillingness to travel far from the coast without an escort.

"This Bay you mentioned," she said conversationally while twisting her head back to glance at Caiaphas, "how many are they, do you know?" The last thing they needed was direct competition. "They pose us no threat, I am sure, but it's good to know what we're up against," she said to clarify, her soft voice never once wavering in its confidence. Deep inside, she didn't believe what she said—a nearby pack could threaten their existence gravely—but, as with all things, Psamathe sought not to reveal her inner thoughts.

Caiaphas fell behind the female almost demurely, her pointed muzzle hung low as she and Psamathe rifled their way through the sifting sand. Her ears were pulled forward in attentive interest as the Priestess spoke, and for some strange reason, the erratic coywolf suddenly felt a tremendous rush of near-sisterlike affinity for the elegant female. Out of all the Nereides so far, Psamathe had been the most pleasant -- and while Caiaphas likely contributed her struggles to her rather unorthodox behavior, before her was a female who was just as strange who handled everything expertly.

"There are not many. More than us. I met the alpha before I found you. He was nice enough. He presented a tough exterior but he is not as mean as me." She smiled inwardly -- the male had been gruff but his admittance it was a family pack insinuated that he was much softer than Caiaphas was in the empathy department. "He told me a bit about the pack." She briefly looked at the female, who strode confidently before her. "It is a family pack. He told me he has no patience for allies between packs but his pack is on good terms with the Blacktail Deer Plateau. It is an inland pack. The alpha of the Bay is a pagan and believes in the Old Gods -- he is a Norseman and told me his pack follows his beliefs. They have carved out a large span by the ocean-front where the bay turns -- and habit the forest for food and water."

"Interesting," she mused when Caiaphas finished her explanation. The scryer had never had a run-in with Nordic wolves, but she'd heard tell of their crazy gods. Nothing good could come of fanatical beliefs, she thought. Nevermind that the Nereides had their own fanatical beliefs; it was all in how she was raised. "I trust his impatience for allies means we will not have to deal with him. That is good."

Psamathe knew Aktaie and the Amazon faction could easily handle some wolves from other packs, but she took comfort in the thought that they might be left alone anyway. Strife was never a welcome thing, even if it was easily dealt with. "The Matriarch and I met with a pack before coming here," she softly divulged as she squatted in the shadow of the cliffs to mark their claim more strongly. A sidelong glance invited Caiaphas to do the same. "It was led by a male. His daughter Junior has come to live with us. He called us fanatics." He hadn't worded it that way, of course, but the insult burned Psamathe just as much.

"It is our duty to honour Mother Sea and Mother Moon, because males like he have lost their way and forget their sacred vows to the Nereides. All originated from Themiscrya, homeland of the Nereides and where Mother Sea and Mother Moon are forever powerful, even if their descendants are unaware. This is known."

The grey wraith listened with attentive ears, her gaze following the path the mystic traveled. She spoke, explaining in her soft voice the verbal altercation she and the other Sisters had endured -- shyly, Caiaphas strode a ways and listened while awkwardly emptying her bladder rather potently over an unfortunate fern brush.

She said nothing until the female was through, and she processed their conversation with a slightly sour expression. Even as a recently indoctrinated wolf, Caiaphas could not say they were fanatics -- every wolf had a belief and every belief was profane and sacrilegious in the eyes of other wolves.

"It is known, then." She echoed, though her tone was neither as soft nor as flush with conviction as Psamathe's own. It was not that Caiaphas thought their belief inane -- it was only that she, a recent acolyte, had yet to feel thoroughly comfortable with the 'literature' involved. "Are there many back in Themiscyra? Why did we leave?"

Concluding this! I'm taking enormous liberties with the lore because there isn't any info available on it.

"In the early days, Mother Moon and Mother Sea were the only ones, and They brought forth women and creatures to populate the world, so they could look on them as children," said Psamathe, launching into an abrupt story about the origin of the Nereides. "But the women grew unruly and established hierarchies over one another and soon in-fighting began. Mother Moon and Mother Sea were upset, and brought forth the first male to appease the women. He would serve them dutifully, and they would vent their frustrations upon him, for he was made with the fortitude to handle it. He was made with free will, but lacked direction and knew only that he was meant to stay with the women."

There was the faintest curdling of her tone toward disgust, but Psamathe managed to keep her distaste for men under control. "The women were insatiable, however, and their aggression was endless. They were wild products of the Mother Sea and Mother Moon, unfortunate prototypes, and the male was further advanced, much as we hate to say it. With his free will, the first male walked into Mother Sea and, claiming the women were too wild and deserved their fate, drowned himself. The rebellious males still speak of him reverentially, but he is a symbol of faithlessness to us sisters.

From that act, Mother Sea and Mother Moon recognized that the women needed purpose, and so the first High Priestess was born to bring religion and meaning to the women. Mother Sea spoke to her with visions, proclaimed women Her Chosen ones, and the first High Priestess passed what sacred knowledge she was given to her sisters, who took up the mantle of Mother Sea's loyal daughters. Thus the Nereides culture was born. When the Nereides had calmed past their original wild ways, Mother Sea brought forth new males to serve them. The women were more gracious and accepting, and the males knew they were naught but vessels for the Mother Sea to bring new life into the world through Her Nereides. They, unlike the Drowned One, also had purpose, and so they remained with the Nereides duty-bound and to this day, their descendants are our consorts, through which Mother Sea blesses us with daughters.

Where all this originated is Themiscrya," Psamathe concluded, "the mother land. All Nereides or their ancestors were born there." Some dispersed so long ago that their living descendants never heard tell of the legendary coastal origin. Aktaie the elder had been one of those. "Not all women remained, and not all men found their way to Themiscrya... some went off and forgot the truth of where they came from. All wolves who now know nothing of the Mother Sea and Mother Moon originated from those wolves... but the song of the sea still burns in their blood, waiting to be heard."

"We leave Themiscrya to spread word of the true ways," Psamathe finished, her long-winded answer complete, "though many, possibly hundreds, remain there forever. It is the duty of some Nereides from their birth to go out into the world and form satellite colonies from which the Nereides way is taught to those who heed Mother Sea's call for Her children." The scryer smiled, not at all winded by her lengthy explanation, and then gestured for Caiaphas to follow her further along the cliffs. "Let me tell you of the Protomedeia," and as they walked, so she did, until Caiaphas grew tired of her company and stories.

ty for the thread <3 ill miss psamathe )':

As Psamathe launched into a rather verbose explanation of the pack's lore, Caiaphas fell behind her with both ears tilted full ahead and her expression one of hungry interest. There were no other wolves like Psamathe in the clan -- and Caiaphas knew her value was vast and beyond measure.

Before she knew it they were along the giant scaffolding of the cliff where the windy path was narrow and treacherous and the sea thundered beneath them like some monstrous animal. She watched the scryer as she navigated the terrain expertly and she followed suit wordlessly.

It seemed the storyteller was not at all toiled by her lengthy discussion and Caiaphas appreciated the immeasurable value Psamathe was imparting to her. The two of them continued their way without interruption save for the occasional marking -- until at length dusk arrived and the two of them amicably parted company.