Cerulean Cape bury me as it pleases you, lover

she'd returned to coast, finding no trail of the wolf Ramsay had mentioned and having had time to consider the reformation of the wood. she did not regret her decision not to join them, but still, it remained a what-if in the back of her mind. 

the sand shifted underfoot as she moved parallel to the sea, churning within its constraints as above the sky remained touched by heavy clouds that threatened rain should they gather in greater number. it was mild, the ocean breeze welcome in her fur, and it bore away the queasiness that followed her from time to time. she put it off to the hare she'd eaten last, found stiff with death and the mark of some other predator's fangs. she'd been quick to uncover and eat it whole, for her roaming required sustenance. pausing, she dipped her muzzle to sniff at the dried husk of a crab, this one spindly and seemingly liable to crumble should she push too hard. 

@Vaati

He wonders if inside her stomach nestles his children, but when he moves to greet her as she returns to the coast, he does not ask. If she was — he figures she will notify  him and thus the proper arrangements would be made. But breeching the subject as if he expected it to be true would potentially give her the wrong idea, as if he desired another set of small beings to run around after. An idea he was opposed against but would nonetheless embrace if it truly was to be written permanently into their future.   

“Where have you been?” The question is prosed as Vaati runs his snout through the mane of her back, through the dotted constellations that seemed to mimick the night above. He did not like that she wandered so far for days at a time, but he also understood the innate need to roam for he too had experienced it following his departure from Blackfeather Woods. For that reason alone, Vaati would not stop her from doing what she needed to do — nor did he think she would ever allow him to.

the touch along her spine is easily identified as Vaati, she pauses her inspection and twists back her muzzle to better regard him. "around." she's growing tired of her wanderings, in truth, so contrary an emotion to the wild restlessness a fortnight prior. she huffs her gladness before elaborating, gaze moving to the sea, where something dark rises half-above the waves at some point further out than she'd dare swim, disappearing in a moment. 

"I found Maegi. Blackfeather Woods is reformed under the leadership of Potema's children." it's ironic, isn't it? that the spawn of the woman determined to see them dead are the ones to claim the wood. her gaze moves back to him, curious how he might take the news.

Vaati’s ear prick up as his sister’s name passes Cassiopeia’s mouth. He muses, “You have been busy.” The news of Blackfeather’s current state is unsurprising. It was only smart to snap up territory as valuable as the dark woods at the earliest convenience -- he is only satisfied that Maegi is the one to do so and not some outsider. Though his disdain for the woods is ever present, he would never stand for an outside force coming to take what is rightfully his by blood and birthright. At least he liked his half-sister.

Vaati offers a nonchalant shrug, finding no issue with it. And yet, he wondered how Damien would react to the news of someone besides him ruling the dark forest for it was made clear that he was the matriarch of the Blackfeather name, and no other. “Interesting. I wish them luck.” He utters. “It is likely they will need it once our uncle hears of this.”

Though he found the man to consist of only blind arrogance, Vaati could not deny that Damien held a powerful charisma unattainable by any of the Melonii brood. If there is something the dark male wanted, the titan was only glad it was not he who stood in the way of it.

he's interested, that much is obvious. she supposes the matter of who sits on his old throne always will. "always," she confirms. seldom dull is the life of a wanderer. he seems to support his sister's claim, though his expression shifts when he mentions their uncle. she tries to piece together who this is, and then -  "damien? that lunatic in the tunnels?" blood and fear. that's what he'd muttered at the children's birth, and it was he who'd supported Potema's quest to end their short lives. 

"perhaps he already has. Ramsay told me they'd been betrayed by a red and cream wolf."  not a melonii, she thought. they seemed to occupy a solely monochromatic colour scale, and so it was an outsider to their family that had chosen sides, she supposed.

Perhaps Damien was a lunatic but a highly functioning one indeed. What Melonii were not? It was a trait passed on in some form or another, from generation to generation, as if an inherited gene intertwined into their DNA. Damien could be classified as on the straight-jacket side of the spectrum, but it was not a fault Vaati could hold against him. Lunacy was something those of the dark woods were accustomed to. 

His eyes narrow at the information unveiled, briefly wondering how Blackfeather could have already earned themselves a touch of treachery so soon after its resurrection. It affirms that the place is indeed cursed to endure a tragic fate so long as it stands, for it remains a beacon for all the gods ill will. “Why am I not surprised?” He casts Cassiopeia a bored eye roll. However, Ramsay was blood. And where Ramsay was, Maegi lingered not far away. If he was to make a choice between uncle and sister, the decision was clear in his mind.

“Perhaps it is time to visit the family.”