Stavanger Bay whale song

for @Bobcaygeon when he is accepted <3

The cruel thing about the ocean is there is water everywhere, and none of it you can drink.

For several hours, the woman's body had lain motionless in the sand. One would have presumed her dead if it weren't for the steady rise and fall of her flank. The crows certainly thought so. They had pecked at her eyes and ears, laughed at her unfortunate demise as tufts of fur were plucked from her back to line their greedy nests. When she had finally gathered the strength to chase them away, she swore they spoke.

It was sunset by the time the she-wolf found the whale bones. They stood like pale monoliths against a bleeding sky and seemed to hum a whistling tune that called across the beach just for her. With each laborious step, the salt sat heavier in her gut and clawed the moisture from her skin. Still, she walked. As her breathing became shallow and her body burned, she collapsed besides a towering rib bone, crooning a low song for someone only she could see. Dehydration altered the mind in strange ways. It wasn't long before the gentle lapping of her tongue against its smooth surface lulled her into a feverish trance. And with the moon now casting the graveyard in an ethereal glow, the woman smiled.

”Sundown in the Paris of the prairies,”

His voice lifted from a hum, saltcoarse but reverent and with a light tremble of vibrato. He had been told often before that he never did sing a song the same way twice- which he took to be a compliment. While his voice didn’t have the same polish as others who practiced the art, there was a sincerity with every word that went unparalleled. 

He squinted as he looked out over the ocean, lips peeled back slightly as he tasted the briny air. He went back to humming, matching the tempo of his phrases to the ebb and flow of the waves. 

He spotted the whale bones first- standing like old, windbleached trees, leeched of their bark and branches. He paused and squinted again as he realized there was something- someone, perhaps- on the other side of the great bone arch. A gust of wind revealed a lock of fur. He tilted his head and sidestepped, brow lifting with surprise as he noticed the woman now, bestowing kiss after kiss to the white bone. Something fluttered in his chest to see something almost reverent in nature. The oddness of her habit did not bother him; he was, instead, inspired. 

Lucky bone, He murmured, loud enough that she might hear him, but gently enough that he hoped she might not see him and take fright.

The woman wrapped her arms around the pearl obelisk until it nestled coldly against her breast, finding comfort in the way it drew the heat from her skin. Her heart swelled, embrace tightening with each kiss as if it would disappear should she let go.

As her forehead pressed against its cool surface, the bones began to sing. 

She hushed and soothed the graveyard. Ichor. Acalephe. Blood of her blood, swept away by the night and the waves. She would not let them go again. "I am here." They had found her! Ears pricked as the rough timbre ceased and was replaced by a voice no louder than a whisper, and through the forest of white she saw him. 

Sunshine eyes scoured his figure until they softened with a glimmer of recognition. He was bigger, stronger than before. How long had it been? Stumbling towards him, her nose pressed firmly against his cheek and drew a heavy breath as if to check he was real. His scent was different too, but it could be - no - it had to be him. In her delirium, the truth evaded her like water off a duck's back.

Lucky bone. There was a boyish tone to the phrase that only fuelled her hallucination. Voice course, she croaked, "You sang for me, Ichor. The bones told me you were here."

He eyed the way she gripped the bone, holding herself against it in such a way that made him feel self-conscious for watching her. Simultaneously, he could not tear his gaze away from her, not when she looked toward him, finally, and released the whalebone from her grip. His tail waved gently at his hocks as she approached and a guilty, nervous smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He leaned back as she came close, but he did not pull away when she pressed her nose to his cheek. 

Ichor.

Now he felt genuinely guilty for having called out to her, and for allowing her to come so close, and be so intimate. "Noooo," He breathed softly, pulling away from her touch, lifting a paw to stop her from drawing close if she tried again. There was true regret and empathy in his voice when he spoke again, just above a whisper. "I'm sorry, sweet thing; I'm just not who you're looking for." Not if she was looking for a wolf named Ichor, and not if she was trying to find someone who would pretend to be him.

His soft decline was all that Chariot needed to confirm her worst fears. They had been nagging at the back of her mind since her arrival on this gods-forsaken beach, but only when he - a stranger - pulled away did they finally sink in.

Her children were gone. The bones were not magic, they did not sing to her. And this man was not her son. "Apologies," she swallowed sheepishly, backing away in turn and fixing her gaze to the sand. "It's been a rough few days."

There was something wrong with her. She had missed the signs before, too busy seeing the world through rose tinted lenses. But if this man was not her Ichor, then; "Who are you?"

She drew back with haste, as if rousing from a dream. It was then that Bobcaygeon became concerned, realizing that she was in a poor state. Whatever world it was she had been in a moment ago had faded away, leaving her disoriented. He could not smell disease, but he could see in the vague weariness of her eyes that she had not been well taken care of. 

You can call me Bob, He said simply. He preferred his full name, but given the fact she struggled with reality, he felt it was a kinder deal to keep her from struggling with his full name as well. How ‘bout we find you a bit of fresh water to drink, hmm? Some shade, He suggested.