Blackbeak Bluff you got yourself in a dangerous zone

"Get up," she rumbled tiredly to @Whip as her nose collided with his shoulder. The light of dawn was barely peaking over the horizon, and the rest of the world was still slumbering. She waited until he was awake enough to actually hear her instructions, repeated them, and punctuated it with a simple: "We're going to the mainland." before turning tail and heading in the direction of the sandbar that would take them across.

It took them an hour to ascend to the redwood forests above Ankyra Sound. Akantha was quiet save for the occasional comment about the tide, the Sea, or Whip himself, but none of which were consequential—the Matriarch was decidedly not a morning person. But as they walked beneath the ancient sentinels, Akantha was finally awake enough to entertain the thought of a conversation. She hadn't needed him along for this trip, but his company offered the oppertunity to teach him a few things about their culture and learn just what he wanted out of his future. 

She drew to a stop to investigate the old roots of a felled redwood, the soil long washed away from the rains, exposing the intricate tangle that once gave the tree life. "What made you decide to stay with us? You could have just left as easily as you came when the storms passed." She inquired almost innocently as she nosed around the remains, seeking the source of the stale urine smell, wondering if it was wolf or otherwise.

Whip's sleep was restless, full of odd dreams and faces that he hardly rembered, twisting and turning like foul spirits in the dark. But by the time night neared its end, Whip finally found peace and succumbed to sheer exhaustion. He was roused by Akantha in what felt like only mere moments later. Despite his body's protest, Whip did as he was told and he followed the Matriarch toward the mainland without any spoken complaint.

As they traveled, Akantha did most of the talking. Whip mostly listened, gleaming whatever wisdom he could from the Sea's chosen. For she was the mouthpiece of the Mothers -- her words were those of the sea itself. Whip nodded along as he followed behind, speaking only when questioned.

Then, after a short bout of wandering though the redwood forest, Akantha stopped. A massive tree had fallen -- its trunk was nearly as thick as Whip was long. The old thing was awe inspiring. Something of its scale would take so much time and power to create -- likewise, to knock it down. Akantha moved in to invesitgate, and guided by curiosity, Whip too followed. The roots spread like a spiders web, stretching far out of reach. Standing in the crater left by the tree's root system, Whip nosed at the exposed root.

He was then inturrupted by Akantha's question. Whip stopped and turned to his matriarch. "Because this is where I'm supposed to be," he answered. "The Mothers, they -- they led me you." For if it hadn't been for their divine intervention, Whip was sure he would have died alone and dopesick after he had fled the Caldera.

With her paw outstretched, she dug at the scent to further reveal the pheromones locked within. Not wolf, but similar. Coyote perhaps? Whatever made it was long gone, though deeper still beneath the rotting trunk was signs of a livable hovel—scattered bits of teeth, bone, and tufts of shed fur. All indications that someone once called this little place home. Again, she thought of Calaphais, and wondered if the craggy she-witch was still alive somewhere out in the wilds. 

Whip's reply caused her ear to twitch and a cruel smirk to twist across her lips, "And are you just parroting that because is what I want to hear?" She asked, slowly casting her slanted head back towards him in a nonchalant movement. Even if she was to frustrate him to the point of aggression, she didn't fear him. There was no scenario where he would come out the victor. He lacked the refinement of Atshen, and the muscle. How far was he willing to bend before he broke?

Whatever it was that Akantha had found held her rapt attention. Unfortunatly, it did not hold it long. She turned back to Whip and looked at him with a sinister smirk. The drudge did not know how to react. At least, not immediatly. He held his tongue and lowered his head, ears falling flat against his scalp in an immediate display of deference. The conditioning of the Nereides had filled most of the blanks in Whip's mind. So much so that he nearly did not have to think for himself in any instance. He simply fell back to the conditioning and repeated whatever he was told.

And if he did it enough, he would believe it himself. Just as he had already begun.

But, wasn't that what the siren's wanted from him? Blind obediance? Whip did not truly know. "I told you before. I have nowhere else to go," he explained. It was a slightly better elaboration. "I don't have anything to go back to. This is all I have."

Akantha loudly expelled a breath through her nostrils and circled around the tree to continue on past. "I don't believe you." She replied with an exaggerated wave of her tail and a casual twist of her ear back to where she left Whip standing—he'd either followed or hadn't, but she imagined he had. There was no reason he couldn't, and she certainly wouldn't let him leave. "Everyone started somewhere. Are they all dead?" She threw over her shoulder. The alternative to being so crass was being kind, and she needed to train herself out of it again if she was to keep her position as Matriarch. Atlas claimed the only soft spot she'd ever allowed for a Consort, and he was dead. That's that.

"I want it to be worth it to you, Whip, not just something you settle with because you have no choice." She explained after a few beats. Her tone had lost it's edge again after her mind recalled images of Atlas. Akantha ducked her head to sniff at a pile of hare droppings.

Whip bit his lip and nodded. "Mostly," he replied. His relatives, at least those of note, had mostly passed on. Those who hadn't, Whip could only think of them with uncertainty. There was his brother Gannet. It was possible that he was out there somewhere, but Whip thought it was likely that he had fallen to the same fate as his parents. Death. Then there was Ferret, and though he possibly lived, he was long dead to Whip after what he tried to do the Peregrine. However, there were two others that Whip knew lived. There was Raven, whom he abandoned in a dope fueled fit. She probably thought ill of him, Whip inwardly mused. And then there was Wildfire, the sister he hardly knew.

Some family.

He couldn't make the Matriarch believe him, but he held no secrets from her. He never did. With that in mind, Whip stepped foward with an answer on the tip of his tongue. "I'm not settling," he explained. "It's because of you that I'm still alive." Or rather, it was the Nereides as a whole, but that's what Whip meant. "That was my choice. I chose to live." He paused, casting his gaze to the pile of droppings that Akantha sniffed. "I, uh -- I choose to live."

Then, Whip fell silent for a moment. But, that wasn't all. Again, he spoke, "But I, uh -- I guess I want to feel like I'm a part of something. Like, belonging or -- I don't know." He shrugged. It some ways, he felt that in serving the sisters, there was purpose, and in some ways, that is why Whip stayed.

Though she made a show of not really giving a shit one way or another, Akantha did keep the entirety of her focus on Whip even after he answered bluntly and lapsed into contemplative silence. She hovered there over the droppings for a prolonged moment only to abruptly step over them and squat, releasing a stream of urine. The relief was welcome but it was mostly out of a queer sense of dominance that she did so in front of Whip. Her tail quivered as she finished and she scraped her hind paws against the ground to release further pheromones from the particles now scattered across a five foot radius. 

When she turned her gaze upon him again, it was only after he finished admitting his conjured thoughts. Akantha was a bit thick-skulled when it came to matters of the heart, but she could clearly see how much of an effect their faith had on his broken heart. Perhaps it wasn't an ideal situation—she knew, deep down, how difficult it was to be considered lesser by virtue of gender. There were even times she wished it wasn't so, but there was no room for her to question the will of the Mothers like she used to when left to her own devices.

Those times were few and far between now.

 But here, above the cliffs, she could afford to drop her guard. Akantha turned back and approached Whip. With a single, albeit hesitant, motion she reached out and brushed her lips across his dome. "You do belong here." She murmured to the small space between them only to draw back a bit and give him room to breathe, or escape. "I wanted to give you a chance to go home today if it existed. But if your choice is to stay, then you will always be welcome here so long as stand as Matriarch." She admitted with a nod.

In the silence that followed the matriarch drew near. Instinctually, Whip felt like pulling away or rolling to expose stomach in a display of conditioned submission. Had it not been enough? Had his thoughts not satisfied her hunger? He could not stop himself from wondering these things. But the boy did not turn away. He stood firm with expression blank — holding strong despite the sudden flash of fear in his eyes. It was only an instant, barely noticable to any conscious onlooker, but the feeling was real.

He tensed.

His fear however was unfounded. The Matriarch touched him with a tenderness that Whip had not felt since his parents had left this worldly plane. It was then that all the tension in his body melted away. His shoulders rolled forward and his head drooped. He took a long breath and his eyes closed. "I do," he repeated. For some reason, hearing from himself made it easier to process. "I belong here." For the first time, Whip felt like he finally believed it. There was nowhere to run to -- the sea was now his home, and it would be until the day he died.

Though she caught a brief glimpse of the fear that passed behind his eyes at her promixity, he soon realized the intent behind her gentle ministrations and relaxed. She observed the tension in his expression melt away and, for the first time, she saw him as he truly was. Whip was a handsome creature—far more so now that he did not appear ready to skitter away like a bug exposed to sunlight at a moments notice. He was still scrappy and windswept, but she could see where he was beginning to fill out. For the first time, Akantha realized she pitied the Consorts—their lives were miserable, by comparison, and they were forbidden to blossom into their own. They were nothing more than tools to the Sirens.

Once again, Atlas' face drifted up from the fog and she wondered if fate would have treated him kindly had he been born a woman.

To avoid revealing the depths of her discomfort, she turned away and looked out to where the ocean lay behind the veil of timber. "I used to have a Consort," She began, a bout of courage driving her to share her story with Whip. "Atlas. All he ever desired was protect and serve, and he spent his entire first year training for the role. He was mindless in his servitude, and followed me blindly no matter what I asked of him or where I went." She frowned and looked down at the ground. "There were moments he questioned our ways, and it infuriated me. I punished him on occasion."

Akantha sighed. "Now I'm not so sure if I was right."

At first Whip thought the matriarch was referring to Astraios, the consort who had followed the Neriedes north at Meteora's side. Whip had not known him well, nor had he spoken with the other consort at length (for at the time, Whip didn't speak to anyone at length), but he had heard of his unfortunate fate. The snows had killed him. Having already experianced the sharp pain of loss, Whip felt oddly untouched by the news. He wept for the dead -- but not for poor Astraios.

But, it was not the consort that Whip had seen that Akantha remembered. A few moments after hearing the name Atlas, Whip realised he was mistaken in his assumption. The consort she described, Whip felt himself to be somewhat similar (as most consorts were). He served. He followed blindly. These were traits that sirens both desired and demanded. However, there was a familiar quality to the matriarch's voice. It was not harsh or commanding. It was soft. Reflective.

Whip took to the matriarch's side and looked upon her downcast face. In the knitted lines of her brow, Whip could see loss. "What happened to him?" he asked.

The warmth eminating off the younger boy passed over her flank, her sides, until he was stood beside her. Normally she would be expected to reject his proximity and punish him for his boldness, but she couldn't bring herself to do so in a violent way. He was one of them, yes, but he was not born of them. Still, she couldn't abide by it for reasons she couldn't quite place, and instead chose to continue walking down the trail with a quick wave of her tail as the only indication of her conflicted thoughts. "The Sea claimed him, though she has never told me why." Akantha explained with a twist of her ear, "Perhaps it was an accident, or her wronged her, but she does not speak of it to me."

She swung her sleek head around to regard Whip as the pair weaved through the woodland. "Since we're so far from Soteria, do you have any questions that you cannot normally ask in the presence of the others?" 

She stole away, leading Whip further along the trail into the wood. He followed close behind, listening. As he did, Whip thought of Atlas -- or rather, someone who existed only in imagination that he ascribed to the other consort's name. His fate was chilling. The Mothers operated in strange and mysterious ways that Whip could not comprehend (not that he tried). He was deaf to their wisdom while the women seemed to hear. Whip wholeheartedly believed that they refused to communicate with him due to his sex.

He only hoped that the Mothers would not find him as expendable as they found Atlas. But the Mothers were not the only gods of the sea.

Whip caught Akantha's eye as she turned to look at him. He already had a question ready. "The Drowned God," Whip spoke. "Can you tell me about the Drowned God?" He had heard nothing but passing refrence to this other diety. Whispers, nothing more. It was obvious that the Mothers were the primary focus of worship for the Neriedes, but Whip wanted to see the whole picture. Even more so, Whip wanted something to cling to.

If Akantha expected anything to come from Whip's mouth, that wasn't it. She hesitated mid-step and hovered there uncertainly for a heartbeat and a half before firmly pressing her foot to the ground again. The anger she normally felt roared and raged in the cage she'd tucked it in for now, threatening to burst forth and consume the boy whole. Somehow she remained calm though a shiver raced down her spine as she turned slightly to observe him and address him directly, "Where did you hear of him?" she asked softly. 

But it didn't matter. His question demanded an answer, and she was the only one fit to teach him. She began, regardless if her own query was answered or not, "The Drowned One was once a mortal like us, until one day he decided to abandon his faith and rape the Sister he was appointed to guard. So the Mothers reclaimed him, intending to drown him, but he somehow survived and was reborn into a malevolent leviathan." Akantha's frown darkened as she continued, "He is the shepherd of the Consorts, and seeks to claim their souls for his own vile purposes. His only desire is to destroy the Mothers, and burn the land until there is nothing left to reap."

She narrowed her eyes a fraction as she paused long enough for the boy to absorb the tale. "Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

Had Whip known his question would stir so much anger within Akantha, he would have let it rest. He could have filed it away into the deepest reaches of his mind, were the question would one day die at the hand of eventual disinterest. This, however, seemed like the perfect time to ask such a thing. Akantha was practically begging Whip to say something heretical. The boy, caught in his blunder, did not know any better.

From her tale, Whip surmised that the Drowned God was a thing of darkness and evil. And yet, he was the shepherd of all consorts -- their cosmic representative. Whip wondered if that made him evil too, simply because he belonged to the same gender. He then thought of his brother, Ferret, and how much of a monster he was. Maybe he was evil. He had thought terrible things after his father died. He had wanted to do terrible things to Kaizer, who threatened to take the mantle from the deceased, It made sense.

They were all evil, Whip thought. Even himself.

He nodded. "Y-yes," he murmured. He had more questions about the Drowned God, and Akantha's explanation had only spurred Whip's curiosity more, but he knew now was not the time -- and Akantha was not the wolf to ask.

Poor Whip. ;-;

Thankfully, he didn't pry further into her knowledge of such dark and horrific things, so she let the matter fall. Akantha nodded, and released what little tension she could from her neck and shoulders with a quick shake of her pelt. There was no real telling how or why he'd learned of such a thing, but she imagined Gabe had something to do with it. The Matriarch recalled her conversation with the pale boy a week or so ago when she'd revealed the nature of the rift between women and men. It didn't settle right that she was the source of the sudden interest in the Foul Betrayer, but it was impossible to take it back now.

As she finished her internal dialogue, she glanced towards Whip and offered a gentle sound of encouragement. She hadn't meant to react so negatively, especially after opening the floor up for any and all questions, but it also couldn't be helped. It simply was. "I'd like to bring something back to the coast. Something small. Food, or an offering. Care to help me look?" Akantha asked, a smile touching her lips.