Blackwater Islands dreadful, like death

extension of this thread. tagging @Nyra, @Alduin, @Tulok & @The Listener ...i am dumb and it is early so if i missed anyone who was supposed to be tagged in this just nudge me on discord and i'll add 'em. i went by those who were titled under the druid tier on the ranks, heh.

under the holding spell of the eldritch berry; ingram's mind swims with the voices of the spirits of the commanders, with the loudest being his direct bloodline: wanlida. his heart beat is steady within his chest, keeping time with some ancient wardrum that he has lost the tempo to but that his bones remember.

druids, the iron guardian addresses the newly anointed; seaglass gaze touching upon them all briefly in the wake of trikova's stunt. the smell of death is cloying and wafting heavy from the caverns they had emerged from to watch the end.

come, he commands. we go to the shore. and he tries to keep the thrumming worry from his voice; from the rush of his steps as each one brings him closer to and then finally to the sands of the shore. where he paces back and forth; stark attention upon the sea, searching for the listener's form to emerge from it.

Tulok followed the keeper to the shore, his mother as his side. 

They arrived and stopped on the shore where the sea reached for them; it still seemed angry. Again, he started to move forward but was stopped by his mother. She shook her head again and then pointed her muzzle to the water as she sat next to him. 

He was meant to wait and watch, and he did as he was instructed.

Nyra turned her attention fully to Ingram as he addressed them, calling upon them to go to the shores.

She followed him along with Tulok and Alduin, where they would wait upon the deal sands for their prophet to emerge.

Nyra noted Ingram's pacing, which seemed vaguely worried.
Stepping forward, she offered him a look of encouragement, disguised as knowing.
"She will return." 

Alduin watched the events of the ritual unfold with a frighteningly blank expression. He’d eaten the berry and from then on his mind seems to be playing tricks on him. How composure is still kept, for seeing an odd thing or two isn’t unusual for him — he sees that shit all the time. 

It’s when the coal pelted man calls to them does he snap from his thoughts. They’d just watched two of their own throw themselves from the cliff. Alduin watched his shadow go, but not a single drop of worry makes it into his heart. She is fine and if she isn’t then he’d have to deal with it. Simple as that. Although, it may not be that easy after all.

Still, Ingram’s voice makes his ears shift and his brows pinch together. Unless one is family, he doesn’t like being told what to do and when to do it. So when he’s beckoned, his eyes and face slowly turn away from the cliff edge and towards the dark male. Blood red orbs would meet the cliffs edge once more before he pushes himself from the spot. Moving to fall in with the others, silently taking his place next to his brother, they make the trek towards the sands.

Alduin can feel the nervous energy radiating off of the younger male. It makes Alduin level him with a devilish gaze, one that isn’t that kindest, but merely shows a muted expression of mild irritation. It seems Nyra senses it too and immediately offers words of comfort. Alduin will do no such thing. Rather he steps forth and gazes out into the raging ocean, rain soaking his plush coat through.

“And if she doesn’t…” Alduin muses darkly in that rough timbre of his. “then she is meant to be one with the tides. Never to return again.” He almost wants to laugh. His tone goes higher and lowers gradually with his own twisted sense of humor. Hoping to strike more fear and unease into those not sure of the shadow’s return. 

She’ll be back. Why worry?

the prophet woke again with a gasp and tasted salt. cold salt, filling her lungs. the spirits shrieked.

the sea. renewed, she fought. fought the tide. the pull of the frigid dark below. the pleas of the spirits. stay, they wailed, walk with us. bless us with your light. and why not? why shouldn't she, who had been blessed with their song and their secrets, ascend to the world of spirits? the world of ever-lasting peace and time without change.

no. no. she belonged to the druids. to her god.

in the darkness she struggled. cold tendrils brushed her face. driftwood struck her flank and left her gasping again, a cruel stinging mix of icy air and lashing water filling her mouth. something softer struck her paws, fleshy and frigid and alive with swirling fur. the stormborn.

the skyrock.

in a blur of pain and breathless panic, the prophet wrestled with the corpse. grasping with limbs, teeth, anything. tearing. digging. searching. where is it? where where the skyrock where was it air she needed air

teeth struck stone

and the sea tore her away.

awareness blinked into the void, and the prophet drifted. lost, until her paws struck sand and the frigid air kissed her nape. she pitched forward, desperate, grasping at solid ground. stumbling. the sea lashed again at her back, and threw her forward.

she fell into the sand, and breathed even as the water rushed in around her again. crawled. on shaking limbs she lifted herself, skyrock clutched in her jaws. forward. away from the sea, the desperate grasping pleas of the spirits.

and when she passed the threshold, where the spirits could reach no further,

she collapsed.

of all of them, nyra offers him comfort. a soft reassurance that echoes in his mind; splicing through the hazy forms of the commanders as they surge in around him. ingram blinks once and twice, offering no words, hoping that the phantoms of his bloodline might vanish as he tries and fails to focus on the faces of the small group he has gathered to this beach.

seaglass gaze is sharp as it cuts to alduin — the abandoner as ingram has come to think of him ( unfairly, without caring to know the circumstances of it ) with a cruel raze like a knife's edge — as the other boy speaks. he might've been the listener's first companion at the beginning of this journey but ingram knew that he, himself was the most loyal. he'd been with her along every bump and curve; mourned her when she had vanished and followed her the moment she'd returned to him.

the past is the past, one commander's voice whispers reason into ingram's ear. do not forgive. wanlida's voice is stronger; holding more control over ingram and twisting something ugly in his gut. no, ingram rasps out the word harshly. she belongs to us, to the unnamed god. not the sea. a pause, a snorting breath not unlike a bull's. if she does not come out: i will go in. and if he drowned in the process? well that was a chance ingram was willing to take.

listener — he murmurs as she emerges from the frothing waves; saltwater soaking her pelage. he'd almost slipped and called her trikova but gladly bit his tongue before his name for her had passed thru his lips. it was not for the ears of those around him: only her.

he moves towards her on legs that feel like jelly; the sand like quicksand: taking too long, hindering his movements. yet, he reaches her all the same, noting her accursed sky rock clutched betwixt her jaws. listener. he nudges at her cheek in attempts to wake her; relived to find that while wet her cheek is thankfully warm.

Tulok sat quietly, his mother at his side. There was some sort of disagreement between Alduin and the keeper, but the words did not make sense in his mind. All he knew was to wait here for the listener. His mother promised she would return. 

Eventually a splash reached his ears. His gaze had already been trained on the waves, so they searched for whatever had made the sound. The listener was there then, her dripping form on the beach with a rock clasped in her jaws. She took a step and then collapsed.

The demon watched the keeper move forward to check her before getting to his own feet and walking over. He could see the rise and fall of her chest, which meant she still lived. 

We need to move her somewhere warm, Tulok pointed out. She wouldn't remain alive if they allowed her to get too cold.

Liv gave me permission to skip Fury <3

Alduin continues to stand there, regally looking out into the wild unknown of the ocean. Somewhere in those tides the listener floats. Somewhere. He knows her heart beats though — call it a gut feeling — but he is not worried for her return. Rather his usual dark confidence continues to radiate from him.

When he’d mentioned the listener potentially never coming back he gets a mean glare from Ingram in return. With his head still facing the ocean, bloodied orbs would flick over to him with wicked humor swirling in their depths. Half of his mouth even tenses at the ghost of a cruel smile when he hears the man’s next words.

If she does not come out: I will go in. He huffs out dutifully.

Alduin hums low in his throat at that statement — a sound that conveys his amusement. “No one’s stopping you.” Comes his scratchy tease, uncaring of what the other thinks of him.

Only an unintelligible amount of time later Alduin’s eyes catch on something. His Shadow. It seems she might just remain in the world of the living. Very good. She crawls from the foaming tides, midnight pelt soaked through. Though she doesn’t make it two steps before collapsing high enough on the beach to not be drowned.

He watches it all with calculated ease, not the worry of Ingram or the soft curiosity of his brother. He doesn’t even move towards her yet, but Ingram does. He’s almost tripping over his own paws getting to her and Alduin follows his movements with the dark gaze of his eyes. He watches as he nudges her cheek with the tip of a leathery, black nose. He can see his mouth moving with words but has no clue what he’s saying.

Eventually the others would sidle up to her, even his brother. Alduin lags behind some but eventually, slowly, makes his way over. He doesn’t push himself into the mix just yet, but the soft way Ingram touches her wouldn’t even stir her from a light sleep. Something had to be done. She needed to wake up after all.

It’s then he’d nudge his way in, almost uncaring of who he pushed to stand near her head. More specifically he glowers at Ingram though. “Move it, ocean eyes.” He grunts ruggedly. 

Just like that he’d lean down and latch dangerous jaws onto her nape. He’s not terribly rough, but he is firm. The more she feels the easier it would be for her to wake. He would attempt to lift her some to try and get her started, giving the others a look that means for them to help as well. She needs to get up, especially if she has any water in her lungs. Gravity will encourage her to cough it up.

If she stirs and seems stable enough, he would release her nape, but only when she deems herself able to stand without help. Whenever that moment comes, he would back away, but still keep close enough to observe closely.