Cerulean Cape driving on the sidewalk, looking back and the sky is burning in my rear-view mirror

it took murgash a moment to tell for certain if that was a wolf in the distance. he tottered as if drunkenly on a collapsed and lone log, his one good eye peering, squinting, into the haze. the form was practically nearly the same color as the dark and rolling sea behind them, causing the dark male to elect to abandon his sentry on the bough and make towards the creature.

he hoped that the thing was female, whatever it was -- the wind was not in his favor today, and he could not suss from the sting of bring any notion of gender. as he drew closer he adopted his own swaggy gait, cocksure and overabundant as a freshly deflowered colt. "oi!" he called out between the mist, making his presence known to the stranger.

"Oi!"

Dragon's ears flicked forward. He was mistaken, despite the lowland tones of the other's call, and thought he heard the traditional corsair greeting. He turned his head to observe a male that fit the picture: a rough creature, this wolf looked like he got into a fight with a shark, was tossed around the sea and then spit back on shore. He was, to Dragon, a classic swab, and a proper mate of the coast if ever there was.  

"Hah hah! Ahoy!" he returned, the corner of his mouth drawn back in an amused but rakish smile,. "Where is yer crew, me hearty? Aye, it's been a long stretch since I laid eyes on another of me own salty blood!"

while murgash's greeting had been neutral enough, he did not expect it to be met with gusto -- quickly the stormtouched wolf spun and faced him, and quickly his voice tumbled rough from his strong features and into the crisp air. murgash did not miss the accent or the dialect; it was different than his own, but closer to his brogue than the tongue of the natives.

his tail fanned slightly as the male spoke, though the mention of 'salty blood' caused his expression to falter somewhat. up until then he had assumed dragon was referring to, you know, their type of wolf -- it did not occur to him that he meant those of coastal blood.

until he said it.

murgash scrunched his nose a little, though the crinkling expression was far from menacing. "wot, ye mean loike sea-wolfs?" he inquired somewhat thickly, maude immediately coming to mind. while she hadn't said she was per se someone like dragon, her way of talking was very similar.. but maude was confusing, and murgash wasn't really sure he would be doing his newfound buddy any favors by introducing the two. "there's a croizy one over yonder," he motioned with a flick of a bare paw towards wheeling gull isle. "oi'm murgash."

There were the good corsairs and the bad; the good followed a code, and looked out for one another. They were the sorts you banded together with. Unfortunately for him, this wolf was not what he thought he was. Dragon realized his mistake as soon as the other male's expression shifted, and it was confirmed as the wolf spoke, his accent coming through so thick and distinct that there was no believing it was coastal born. Or at least not of any coast he knew of.

"Sea-wolfs, yeah," he said, his mood considerably deflated. But his ears perked to the mention of a 'croizy' sea wolf over yonder. He licked his lips, his gaze momentarily travelling to the island Murgash had gestured at. The fellow's definition of crazy could mean anything, especially since it could be argued that all corsairs were a bit crazy.

"Dragon," he returned. Curiosity bit at him.  "Crazy how?"

'crazy how?' came the inevitable reply. murgash shifted back onto his hocks for a moment, considering best how to answer it. how was maude crazy? well, she was away with the fairies -- literally.

'take leave of ones' senses' seemed too harsh a thing to ever come out of murgash's mouth; as he considered how to share with the corsair that maude was infinitely bonkers, it occured to him maybe the handsome midnight-slate man was an ally of harebrained maude. this made his eyes somewhat narrow.

but then he remembered he was murgash, and fuck all sense of self-preservation.

"well, she -- he -- she wosen't all there. mostley there downstairs, sportin' a packege bigger'n yours or moine give or take a scar or two - bot the croizyiest thoing wos he thot he wos a girl!" murgash burst into laughter, bringing a bare paw to his chest in convulsive fits. "oi.. wait a moinute.. ye kinda talk loike she did.. ye ain't cuckoo yerself, are ye?"

Dragon cupped his ears forward as Murgash explained. The tip of his tongue peeked from the side of his mouth as he lightly bit down on it in concentration, believing at first that the wolf's explanation was obscured by the thick accent, when in reality the corsair had everything straight and plain.

"So..." he paused, clicking his tongue against the roof his mouth and making a few smacking sounds as he considered this story. "You mean t' tell me that this male fancied himself a she-wolf? Haw haw!" Dragon guffawed loudly, snorting and stamping his paw. "That's a good one, mate. He must have suckled off he's father's 'teat', aye, and got himself a mouthful of piss instead of milk!"

He shook his head. "I ain't dead between the ears. I got a cock, I knows how t' use it and I ain't mistaken in what gender I am." Dragon narrowed his eyes. "You ain't cuckoo, are ye?"