Ankyra Sound ineffable

@Ingram was at her side when at last the listener broke the cover of trees and stepped out into open air, pale sands, the salt of the sea in her nose and mouth. wind swept through in an echoing whisper all around, and the listener shivered and lifted her muzzle to the twilit heavens. her eyes were distant, misty.

we are close, hushed, hardly more than a whisper, yet the prophet was certain that even @Morgana and @Rasha at her back heard the words. her muzzle lowered, no more than a glance spared to the keeper at her side, and strode forward across the broad stretch of sand. the rush of the sea filled her ears, and in the distance, she saw it.

no more than a shadow on the horizon from the forest, but near the water's edge it became apparent that it was something far more than that. a vast dark stretch of land, broken into pieces with the sea churning between. the water was dark under the dim evening sky; it almost looked black, like thrashing ink beneath the pale ribbons of foam. and just under the water, not far from where the listener's paws touched its edge, a pale bridge of sand. the waves receded slowly even as the listener watched them, uncovering the sand bit by bit. a path, she saw now; a path home.

home, the listener sighed, and stepped forward.

backdated about a week. this is much later than i intended, i apologize for that. one post only and then i'll wrap this up <3

the more time he spent upon the coast, the more comfortable ingram began to feel in it. there was a raw and untamable ferocity to the sea that he could not help but enjoy ...even if he stank of salt and seaweed and all the other scents that one tended to associate with the sea.

but he was no longer bothered by the grit of the sand; and in truth he knew he'd follow trikova to the mouth and into hell and back if she asked him to. would have even before he took his oath as the keeper.

he could and would adapt. life had proven that to him again and again despite that he had not even seen his full year of life yet.

he casts his seagreen gaze to the island that took form in the distance — their home, trikova declared — and holds to his silence, gaze focused as he follows her to the islands they would ( soon ) claim.

morgana watched her listener. her dreamwalker. her melena.

she watched with bated breath as the child strode closer to the sea. eagerly she awaited what it was they had to say.

she spoke eventually. home.

morgana beamed, then followed behind the two.

this journey was as it should be.

her cohorts had nothing but awe and regard for the listener.  rasha followed with both respect and deference, but withheld the renown and wonder.  she watched them follow.

the trees that broke forth offered her comfort from the churning waters that were so foreign to her.  she kept her silence close, though if anyone were to make eye contact with her she would offer a barren, polite smile.

with a glance full of pride toward the followers surrounding her, the listener led them to their sanctuary. their haven. the home of the druids.

and in time, their ranks would swell, and the unnamed god would feel their devotion radiating all the way to the heavens.