Stavanger Bay child of the elder blood

@Qilaq

 
His life and the many twists that had occurred in the past few months had been difficult for him to handle. It was shameful for him to admit such a thing, but he had neglected those beneath him, and he had all but abandoned the gods that he had devoted himself to. The rage that he had felt toward them had been enough to cause a rift and he feared that he would be punished for abandoning them the way that he had done. His own fate had always been in their hands, and he did not wish to be sacrificed to the black rock's power. Skellige had already tasted the surge of strength from it; he had acted as a vessel and he knew that he needed it.  
 
He had neglected to provide the spirit guide for the stolen child in Doe's den. The flighty little girl had been fearful of him, and he had remembered how quickly he'd lost his own Sharkbait because of his aggression. Because of this, he had distanced himself, but he could do so no longer – it was time for her to receive the blessing of the waters and to have her guide granted to her.  
 
With his nose pointed toward the sands, the swarthy king made his way toward the den of his second-in-command and sought after the inky child. They could not wait any longer.  

Qilaq hasn’t been able to sleep well the past few nights for one reason or another. The stone den felt crowded and most of the time she felt in the way. Even when they set time aside to give her, it isn’t the same—they’d been there most of the time when she needed them—but now she struggles outside the allotment she’s given each day. Her nightmares being more frequent leave her awake most nights and tired throughout the day, napping for long hours on level ground when no one is looking. She’s taken to sleeping in the family’s old den at times, whether or not anyone else has noticed, and she’d even tucked a few seashells and rocks in the back to remind her of home.

She sleeps lightly on this day so the other’s approach is noticed, but only several seconds after she should have. Her ears twitch at the sound of footfalls and a scent she knows well enough thickening enough to choke her. The girl jerks awake suddenly and shuffles until she’s pressed up against the wall. The smell has only even just been… there but to have it in close proximity feels like an entirely different reality. The smell has never had a face and, though she can’t see him nor can he see her, she lifts her lips up to show her teeth with a low rumbling in her chest.

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There seemed to be a fire within the child. With brows furrowing, the dark shadowed man peered into the den and found darkness and a soft growl from within. A flash of ivory meets him and he curls his lip upward in a devilish smirk. The child had grown considerably since they had taken her from the wilds and thrust her into the sea. Skellige was pleased with how she had changed – pleased with the transition from whelp into Benthos. He had allowed her to wait far too long to receive the blessing of her spirit guide.
 
“Hush, child,” he rumbled in a gruff baritone. “I rule in these lands. Your father is my brother. Your mother is my friend,” he rationed with her, flicking his tail upward and gesturing with his muzzle for her to leave the dark of the den and venture into the light. He did not need to tell her any more of his relations with Doe and Szymon. They were his family, but they were also children of the depths… which was more than he could ever put into words. The salt of the sea ran through their veins, and he had come to depend heavily on them. If their children were to grow there, he would expect them to receive the light of the water and to witness their calling.  

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