Blackwater Islands sea of voices
fury, oh fury don't you misguide me
228 Posts
Ooc — Siro
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For once in a great many weeks, her mind was blessedly silent. The Sea and Moon both retreated to their respective homes, and allowed the Matriarch to bask in the daily cycle that was most familiar, and most comforting. Her motivation, normally, was born of instinct, not logic, and so it was nice to finally release the tension from her spine and the fog from her mind as she walked the far reaches of the western shore line. Sure, there were matters that desired her attention, but nothing that could possibly be dealt with right then and there.

Gabe was missing and, as unfortunate as that was, Akantha knew he either abandoned them or drowned. She was not in control of either situation, though the former caused her a great deal of discomfort considering all the food and effort she'd put into attempting to tame the boy. Kalika's judgement on the issue, however, was not called into question—she'd tried and succeeded in tempting him to their depths but it was ultimately his own failings that caused him to vanish. As harsh as it was, Akantha felt no pity for the boy and would not should he return. But she could not bring herself to be angry at their lot. Whip was coming along fine, as was Chelan, and Drageda had yet to close the noose around her neck.

Oddly enough, there was only one wolf on her mind today as she scoured the western reaches of Soteria and that was her vaudevillian mistress, Indie. Her scent was still strong upon the land, so she didn't doubt the swarthy vixen still lived within their claim. But she'd only caught passing glances of the dark she-wolf in recent weeks and wanted to affirm her affection and gratitude for the once-outsider. Akantha did not throw up a howl, but also did not hide her presence here.
Blood is running deep
Some things never sleep

Teal dialogue is Greek. Uncolored dialogue is common/english.
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lights • cameraaction
144 Posts
Ooc — Rachel
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Recently, large swathes of Indie’s time had been dedicated to practicing her swimming — and she was really getting quite good at it. It had become almost a ritual for her to shake off the ligature of sleep with a brisk swim in the tidal waters; then, afterwards, she would preen herself and watch as the sun rose over the sea; and would watch it once more when it set over the mainland.The woman had forgotten how good this felt — to have a mission, of sorts. A chance to learn something new and be someone different; a self imposed directive that she took to happily.

It was here, in the unknown, where Indie thrived. When she was in the ocean, it was not the sensation of flying that thrilled her [though it was fun]; no, she was thrilled in the moments when she paddled too deep and lost her footing and her heart leapt from her throat and she didn’t really know what was going to happen next but it was all going to be alright because she could roll with the ocean’s punches. Indie did not commune with the ocean for any sort of spiritual guidance; often times it pummeled her and rolled her up on the shore like so many fish, thus she found she could not trust it as the sirens did —  but the vamp did like the sea because it challenged her. Battling the waves, she would thing this is what life is supposed to be like: improvisation and practice, liberty and fealty. 

Here, in the wilds, it was only the sea that could get her there.

It was spring and it was the season of plenty — and an added bonus of her closeness with the sea was a healthy appetite for seafood. Indie had taken to the white-fleshed creatures with a hunger she had never felt before; she delighted in the sweetness of it upon her tongue. But when fish couldn’t be caught Indie gladly took to crustaceans and other tidal pool goodies, just as she was doing that day; picking across the tidal pools of the beach and inhaling any small creatures that entered her path. Soon, a large creature entered her path — Akantha. Her Matriarch was silent but Indie could not help but chuff richly as she closed the distance between them. As Indie came nearer she slowed and halted, a grin writ upon her maw and her swarthy pelt damp and salt-strung. “Akantha, it is good to see you.” a small sweep of her head signified that, yes, Indie did indeed know her place — but her relentless smile evinced the amity she felt towards the queen.
 
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“what a lovely day" says the butcher as she raises her arm