Wheeling Gull Isle One of the foremost modern experts on tonal architecture

For @Dinah!

Ana had slipped away to the water's edge, seeking time away from her numerous siblings. As the darkling grew, so too did her affinity for the sea; her birthright, though she did not know it. Yet those sharp whispering words of divinity, of the places of spirits and dark magicks, had never truly left her. Some part of her still remembered. Some part of her would always be heir to the legacy of Blackwater's druids.

She climbed large rocks at the water's edge, clicking happily and giggling each time the sea rolled in to lick at the rocks and at her feet. For a time she was happy. Ana was a nimble child — but like any other, she soon turned careless. A misstep sent her sliding down the slick side of one jagged rock, scrabbling in vain to regain some kind of footing. Ana cried out as she fell into the water, forelegs welling with blood from several cuts.

Wailing, she shot from the water and cowered further up in the sand. She cradled her bloody forelegs to her chest. After a few moments, her crying quieted; she took notice of the blood, the scent of it, the stark red staining of the sand. Ana stretched her legs out slowly, wincing. She watched the blood trickle into the sand, stirring it lightly with one paw, studying the way the color changed as it dried.

Dinah hadn't been far when she'd heard the shriek.
Always the sea, always; always scanning for rocks, watching the birds and their patterns of flight, the way their wings moved; studying the flora and their different colors, what they looked like as the seasons changed; the leaves upon the trees as they began to rust.
And as tiny and fragile as her thread of connection to the darklings was, when it tugged, she went careening with it.
By the time she arrived, the screams had stilled, and Dinah worried that perhaps her sibling was already dead. But to her surprise — relief? — she was merely sitting; watching.
Ana, she plunders forth on gangling limbs as she investigates with a high-strung snuffle, her breath coming in heaves from how fast she'd run, sand coating up to her ribs. what happened? You-- a pause, you're bleeding.

Dinah;

With a glance up Ana acknowledged her presence, clicking a few times but making no effort at a verbal response. Bleeding, yes. She stretched out her wounded forelegs to show her sister what had happened. Then she gestured with her chin toward the rocks she'd fallen from.

The sea was a dangerous place. But Ana didn't mind so much. The blood was pretty. Her eyes found Dinah again, uncertain what to expect. Would she be angry? Sad? Or maybe she, too, would see the beauty in it. Like flowers.

After a time, her sister convinced her to go to one of their parents. Caracal, perhaps. Ana was subdued as she allowed her parent to tend to her, and spent the rest of the day sleeping.