Sea Lion Shores the vessels that tremble with your salt and sweetness

Set before the 28th

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The sky—so dark and heavy that it made the time of day difficult to read—opened up suddenly as Ixchel finally set feet on beachsand for the first time in more sunrises than she cared to count. The break provided in the sheeting rain would only last for several minutes, but the iron islander made sure to understand it as sign that welcomed her back to the wild and moody sea. Her paws pressed deep into the cold, wet sand, leaving imperfect divots as she trotted down the grey-drenched shoreline. Her attention was stolen forward by the familiar baying of sea lions, although the magnitude of the raucous chorus was unlike anything she had experienced before.

The closer she came to the sound of sex-driven war and the crash of tumultuous waters, the less she was able to think properly. The rain started again, and her pace crescendoed as her thoughts became fogged with the scent of rutting pinnipeds and the heady overlay of salt and brine. She crested a dune that would finally give her view, and she marveled at what she saw beneath her.

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He continues on through the storm, even as it slows him down. He’s found the ocean and he keeps it to his left, though sometimes he weaves far enough away that he loses it but only because the storm. It has become much bigger than he anticipating, lasting days on end, that even as the rain begins to slow to a stop, he knows it isn’t going to last long. The end of rain should bring relief and freshness but the heavy weight of the dark clouds above them let him know they aren’t going anywhere any time soon. 

Arlo shakes out his fur several times as the rain takes a break from his back. His white, now creamy, fur puffs out at ends and looks frayed and weighted down by water left over. No amount of shaking is going to dry him off any time soon so he puts his feet back into motion to enjoy what break he can receive. Thunder claps on the horizon and his ears fall back, followed by a maddening bellow he’s never heard before. 

The brute turns his head to see the curve of the dunes, topped by a wolf in the distance, and he quickly trots over and behind her. Arlo chuffs once as the wind blows, hoping to garner her attention as he comes up close to see what the sound had been.

hey u guys!

Aris had never been so nervous in his life. After losing his sister, the young male had been skittish, on edge. Not to mention the fear he felt for the giant storm that seemed to be following him down the coast like a monster. He kept hope in his heart that he would find his twin, that she would meet up with him eventually, but it was dwindling like the adventurous light inside his eyes. He missed her so much, this was supposed to be their adventure together, right?

The rain that soaked his bronze toned pelt began to let up some, and for that Aris was grateful. He had a good few minutes of peaceful walking, and drying off before it started again. This time, he was done with it. He didn't want to travel anymore, he wanted to get out of this storm. So he started to run, if he had outrun the storm before maybe he could do it again. He didn't outrun the rain, but he did run into more wolves. Literally, his speed and the slickness of the sand sent him sliding towards the white furred male before he could stop himself.

Sorry for the wait!

Ixchel stood tall and raptured by the scene beyond her. She took deep breaths, and let the aromatic hormones of sea lion musk run her blood hot against the sleeting rain. The islander had never cared much for Kirynnae's philosophy on the pennipeds, but she'd respected the traditions, and over time had come to adhere to the them automatically. She didn't know if she would ever think of sea lions as the oceanic ancestor to their species, but it seemed wrong to hunt them regardless. Not without the Hunter's Moon...

She was recalling her first and only blood moon when she noticed the approach, harkening to the male's call for her attention. Ixchel hardly got a good look at him before a careening dark mass grew alongside him and threatened to collapse what she saw. A captivating, rain-washed figure of white and gold. She turned fully to descend from her perch, her tail up and flagging like a Jolly Roger; riled both by the scent of foreign sex on the air, and her newfound spirit to rise and start a family of her own.

As they stood apart and she approached, her ears and nose went forward eagerly to take them in— coming recklessly close to assess both their situations and eager to know their temperaments— presenting herself as confident and non-aggressive (invasive  attitude aside).

He is barely given the attention of the woman ahead when that of another comes out of nowhere. The heartbeat of the rain had put his attention elsewhere, blocking out the distance so he can focus on the one he found. It’d been a grave mistake as the other tumbles unceremoniously into him. He knocks his feet out from beneath him and he hits the ground hard, a snarling shooting out of his face and instantly he reacts with teeth.
 
Arlo scrambles to his feet while teeth clash in front of him, aiming to throw every bit of him into action and retaliation and now pays little attention to the woman.