Blackwater Islands breathe it in

she was healing, albeit slowly. with assistance, Galateia was brought to the waters on a particularly warm morning each day. the newly named Nereid practiced strengthening her muscles, flexing them continuously within the ocean as it willed her to heal. the waters did just that for her, day by day—and though she was as of yet unable to walk without assistance, on this day Galateia would stand! 

the pearl communed with the ocean, sitting in meditative silence for many hours. The Mothers brought to her visions of her running throughout a forest, speaking to the wind and the birds, and Galateia was granted a glimpse of her future (unbeknownst to her, this was but a slither granted to her of her past). her heart was full as she thanked Her. I will walk again—I will run again! 

and in this impassioned moment, Galateia brought herself to a stand. her furs clung to her (presently) malnourished frame, but her emerald eyes were bright and full of vigor. twas her first true triumph in the battle against herself, though as she moved to take a step forward, her muscles failed her. the ocean rushed forth to collect her before she could crash against the earth, and she let out a small sigh of disappointment. but she understood; the body granted to her by The Mother needed to restore itself, and it could not be done all at once no matter how fiercely she wished it.

Whip saw her from the cliffs; the woman birthed from the ocean herself. He had heard talk of her arrival, yet he had not yet seen her, as she had been too weak to leave the medical ward. Galateia, they called her. To say the least, Whip was curious of her situation, but he did not intrude. No, he waited for her to reveal herself. After a few days, that she did. From where Whip watched, she was simply a brilliant white splotch against the rocky coastline, guided to the sea and left unaccompanied by her assisiting siren. As she returned to the Mother's embrace, Whip left the cliffs behind to make his way toward the beach.

When Whip finally had a better view, he saw beauty beyond compare. She was weak, but there was elegance in her frailty. He stopped and watched, starting dumbly on the beach for a moment as the waves broke over her. She stumbled forward, and Whip then thought to offer assistance. He approached, wading into knee-deep water. "Do you -- Do you need any help?" he asked.

Just making a cameo! Feel free to skip; she's watching from a distance.

Kalika was feeling considerably more happy since meeting with Whip. In fact, he had made such an impression that the Siren wished to seek him out again in search of another favor. As she marched down the coast with her tail curled gently over her back, she cooed to call her Firebird foreward, though she found that he was taking longer to answer than she might have liked. 

Coming nearer to the Seaside, she could see not only her Drudge, but Galateia standing not far from him. She was instantly taken over with a cold rage, though she remained silent. The woman was not of the Nereides (she believed she was, but her true identity told otherwise) and yet she was already stealing from a natural born Nereid. Kalika watched intently, trying to listen in on their words.

THE THICKENS PLOT !!!

 

her eyes turned when she saw the approach of another, who bore the same shades the sand did. dark browns, a soft taupe—and then breaks of white, like the ocean when it crashed against the shore to kiss it in want, and the inky darkness it left upon its retreat. his eyes were silver and clear, and Galateia thought him to be a lovely fellow. his inquiry was met with a true smile, and she felt grateful for his kindness. no, thank you, she responded, her gentle voice rising above the oceans lulling waves, in what I do now, I must rely on my own muscles, so that I may build them again, she informed, looking to her limbs. she thought of her vision, and of her desire to share this with Akantha, or perhaps with Kalika if she were not busy in the pursuit of her own passion! they knew of The Mother and Her ways more than she, and she craved their guidance. 

her eyes returned to him, and her head tilted a small measure. you may watch, if you wish—perhaps what you see may one day aid another, if that is something that is of interest to you... I admit, it is tedious, to bear, as it is to see! she thought she might give him an opportunity to go his own way, if he wished; what she did could be seen as stimulating only by those whom desired to learn to heal, and with the patience for it.

He had not heard Kalika, nor did Whip know that she was in pursuit and watching from afar. Perhaps, if he had known she were near he would have gone her way, for it would be more favorable than most of the grunt work that the other sirens made Whip do. But, then again, Whip also had a duty to serve the other women of the Neriedes. He had an obligation to the woman who struggled to stand in the shore break. And though she refrained from taking Whip up on his offer to help, his obligation still stood lest he incur the anger of the rest of the Nereides.

She was, however, not perturbed by Whip's presence. "Okay," Whip spoke, opting to keep watch in the shallows. He then fell silent as her words reminded him of his sister, Raven. She had been selfless, helping others whenever she could... and for no reason, no less. There was something about that the Whip found admirable. "I'm interested. Are you a healer?" he asked, wondering if she was like his sister.

he was courteous, and lingered though he need not. he spoke of his interest, and his question sang to her heart. healer, he had said... and this felt important. greatly important. she looked to the waves which rolled around her body, and seaweed tangled itself around an extended foreleg. she knew its purpose, seaweed. that it could be placed upon wounds to help it mend. healer. 

her emerald eyes returned to him once again. I feel as though that is one of my reasons for being, she spoke, her words warm and raw, to heal others. to aid them in the ways that I can. I look at herbs, and I know so many of them... how they are meant to heal, in what ways they can be used. perhaps The Mothers wish this of me, and my heart is happy for it. but first, I must heal, then she could begin her work! create her stocks, plant her gardens... a heavy wind rolled over them, and she laughed delightedly as seafoam sprayed about them. right now, I am weak. I do not know how long The Mothers have carried me, only how long ago they bore me before Akantha. I am as unsteady on my legs as any newborn must be, though I have seen... she drew in a deep breath, recalling the image, I have seen myself running freely, and so I know I will be well again. the waters assist me in that I do not feel the whole of my bodyweight when I am deeper... but I only seek to stand for a while, this day. to show my muscles what it is they must someday do for hours on end, she fell quiet, now, and shifted her weight slowly. in a few moments, she would attempt again to stand. but for the moment, Galateia simply braced herself.

The words she spoke were poetic and soft, almost as if they made up the verse of some long poem. Whip found himself pulled in by the elegance of her language. Settling down to his rump, Whip sat in the shallows and listened intently. He found it interesting that the Mothers had already granted her purpose and knowledge upon birth, whereas he himself still struggled to find his own place. Though it was far from the actual case, it appeared to Whip that she was born already knowing exactly who she was.

She spoke of her own recovery and Whip nodded. "When you've healed, can you help me learn?" he asked, hoping that his studious intent hadn't crossed any boundary. "My sister is a healer -- and I wanted to ask her. But after Mom died..." The boy trailed off. Of course, he couldn't ask her now. Not after running away.

his question, so kindly asked, was rewarded with a slow nod. the she-wolf, still learning, had yet to learn the dynamic between consort and Sirens—that he was inferior to them by proxy due to his sex. all she could think of was the merit of him learning—that he, like her, would be able to aid those in needs. it was a quality that Galateia, too, admired. he spoke of a sister, and a mother that had passed; her eyes fell to the waters, saddened by what he had shared on his behalf. she could not imagine such a loss! but her heart broke, as though she might know it—the loss of a loved one. it struck her, and she felt she could weep. I am so sorry for your loss, she murmured to him. never before, even in her present state, had she felt frail... but now, somehow she did. after a quivering breath, she hummed to him, I shall teach you all I that I know. I am sure that your sister, someday, would be glad to know of your shared interest with her; her heart must be as good as your own, she tilted her head a measure, smiling only slightly, though the expression was not full, as she was sensitive to the hurt he must feel and that inexplicably she understood as though she, herself, had endured it.

Often, Whip wondered if his late parents and his sister would have been proud of the wolf he was. Especially now, with his intent to follow in his sister's academic footsteps. Unfortunatly, Whip believed it was unlikely that he would recieve such praise. He abandoned them, both his sister and his newborn siblings, all without a word -- without an explanation as to why he could no longer see the Caldera as home. It was a wrong that he could never right; a black mark, weighing heavy on his already burdened conscious.

The sea wolf, however, was surprisingly empathetic. Kindness among the Nereides, especially directed toward a drudge like Whip, was incredibly rare. It nearly caught Whip off guard. She coaxed a small, sad smile from the drudge. "Really?" He chirped, initially disbelieving. His eyes opened wide with earnest and a small spark of hope returned to their typically emotionless silver depths.

"You're kind to me," he spoke, voicing his observation after a beat. Genuinely curious, Whip asked, "Why?"

I meant every word, she responded in earnest, nodding her head. Galateia braced her legs and pressed a measure of her weight upon them, though only crouched. his inquiry was met with a bemused expression, and her head cocked some. to be unkind to any is not my way, she responded simply. even if the worth of men was not the worth of women within their culture, there was still worth. he had a mind like a garden, and if cultivated properly Galateia foresaw the most beautiful things blooming within!

Since we have our other thread, do you want to fade this out?

Despite having only just met the Sea's daughter, Whip could tell that she had a gentle, nurturing heart. She did not grow annoyed with his questions as the other sisters did. Instead, she met his curiosity with care and kindness. He liked her -- and there were few wolves that Whip truly liked. This warranted a name. He smiled. "I'm, uh -- I'm Whip," the boy stammered. "I don't think I got yours." He had not, as he had been too busy staring in the beginning to ask.

"You don't mind if I hang out with you for a while? Right?" He figured he could just loaf around the shallows until she finished whatever she was doing. "I can help you back whenever you're done."

the boy introduced himself, and she realized this was something they had not yet done. she introduced her own self with a smile, Galateia, and to his next question, she shook her head. no—perhaps you can learn from what I do, if any others dealt with a muscle injury, he would know what was best to do from witnessing her methods. if you would escort me, when I am finished—I will need to lean heavily upon you, as I cannot walk well, she informed and forewarned. she forced herself to a stand once again; she had already explained to him before what it was she had been doing, though if he had any questions she would answer. for the duration of the day, Galateia would work upon this tedious task, with Whip's (and, unknown to them both, Kalika's) eyes upon her.