Wheeling Gull Isle maybe it’s not the moon at all

Well, at least now it was out in the open — Komodo hadn’t thought he’d need to say anything about their weird relationship dynamics. It was something implicitly understood by both parties: Seelie loved, and Komodo protected, and it was something uncomplicated and innocent by nature. But now the spiced sheepdog stood here, when it really counted, telling him that he couldn’t cash in and that was, well…

That was frustrating. 

Why did she have to make things so complicated, by saying no?  Couldn’t she just make things easy, for once? It could all be so good, and it was all right here — if she would only just. reach. out. and. take. it. As if she had read his mind and wanted to displease him by further complicating things, she stalked towards him, her entire mien bright and flaring, an empty growl rolling in her throat. Komodo unintentionally held his breath as the selkie’s daughter came towards him, incited and provoked, challenging him with both rank and physical demonstration. What would Riptide and Crosscurrent say to see them like this, so heated and impassioned; two steadfast forces facing off, so close that their breaths intertwined and danced in the dewy subterranean air. Would they have ever guessed?

The earthstalker kept his gaze firmly down his snout and grasping towards her bejeweled cerulean depths, feisty and sparkling like the high tide itself; but soon he relented and broke their bestial stonewalling, letting his eyes close and head turn away. He did so with sincerity, as he felt rather wounded at her muted proclamation. “Y’didn’t… Y’never?” the shaman questioned, not exactly sure he wanted to be the one to fill in the words,  all the details that Coelacanth left out. He didn’t want to understand, but he did.

He slowly released his exhale, trying to encourage his pathos to yield to logos through the controlling of breath, but the techniques that usually kept him placid suddenly lost their efficacy. “Yuh never felt… he repeated, letting the last syllable drawl on, not sure what words could easily surmise what she was supposed to have felt. Then, his thickset jaw snapped shut. He snorted in indignation. Komodo was never one to force his attentions on another did not want it and, even snared by Seelie’s subtle heat scent, he could see that she did not feel the say way — and, apparently, never had. Now who was the bad guy, here?

“Yer a fuckin’ tease.” he spat, calling a spade a spade.