Dragoncrest Cliffs angel

Chantale was gleefully unaware of literally anything. Her siblings were being terrors? Oh, that happened, she was sure.

She was focused primarily on being a shark.

Every morning, stumbling to the waves and hyping herself up to go a small distance, before scrambling back. She was a shark. She was gonna be a shark! It was her greatest obsession, what she wanted to be when she grew up, what she thought about in her sleep.

She was gonna be a fucking shark!

Chantale stood up to her ankles in the surf, snapping at every wave that came her way and only succeeding in getting sea water in her mouth. Which would cause her to cough, choke, and do it all over again. Like a shark.

Mireille's children.
Coraline had taken to sitting beneath the curve of the crags that line the bay; reacquainting herself, making her scent known again. Sapphique welcomed her home with bright grins and open arms, and already she had spoken with some of them — Chacal, too, had little ones! And her heart swelled at how her family had grown, how the next generation of seababes had landed and taken the cliffs for themselves.
It made her wonder if she would ever become a mother herself.
But currently, her concern was with the haughty bob of russet and silversmoke; her niece; that was trying to eat the seawater. Fè atansyon, she barks, de waves are going to eat you.

Mwen reken!

Auntie Coraline, come to ruin her shark transformation. Chantale stared over her shoulder with a sharp pout to her angular features, stomping out of the waves in a huff. She gave a sharp snap of her teeth, a little temper tantrum as she plopped right there on the edge of the surf.

Ou ap depafini li! Pral vin yon reken! The girl whined, her voice reaching a high, dramatic pitch. She even stopped her little paws for emphasis, sand sticking to her pawpads but that would wash away when she became a shark, like she was working on, Auntie!

Fi mwen, Coraline's head shakes in a curt nod as she swiftly rises to tapered legs. you are doing it all wrong.
Doesn't she know that sharks have gills, and don't potentially die via aspirating seawater?
The redheaded girl swiftly dives past her in one practiced move, loping into the sea and pausing only to cast a brief glance over her shoulder. A competitive flair breathes anew inside of her as she wades further into the brine until her feet no longer touch the sandy floor. Can you swim?

Her auntie told her she was doing it all wrong, but what did she know about becoming a shark? Chantale doubted she knew sharks like she did. Adults always think they know eeeeverything, she thought with a roll of her eyes. How dumb would she look when Chantale actually became a shark?

Very dumb. She was gonna be a shark. Just watch.

Coraline went bounding past in a fierce motion, so much that Chantale near fell over just trying to follow her. Out in the ocean, she watched her aunt bob up and down with the waves. Like an odd, misshapen sea gull.

Chantale huffed.

Yon ti kras. With that, she went padding until the sea touched her shoulders, raising her face to try and avoid the waves.

Silly, silly girl.
She is reminded much of herself and her own siblings when they were young, of the sting of being othered for some reason unknown to her still. But that was so long ago now, and what had come of it?
She had not been here for little Chantale's birth; she was, in spirit, a stranger to this girl, and the guilt over such sweeps at her ribs as her head dunks beneath the surface.
Her head pops back up in a flurry. Den I will teach you, paddling swiftly to meet the wonky youngling where she's at, Coraline flashes a knowing, haughty grin. sharks must know dese t'ings, hm? De ways of de sea. her forelegs stretch outward in an offering of guidance. Hang on to me.

Chantale stared at her aunt with wide, buggish eyes, tilting her head to the side a bit to stare with one dominant eye. Like a bird more than a shark.

Then, she shrugged. Auntie Coraline wouldn’t drown her out there, and if she did, Chantale would come back as the biggest, badest shark in the sea to bite her legs off or something. The girl poked out her tongue, sloshing deeper and throwing her front paws over her aunt’s shoulder. Clinging for dear life, though she tried not to let it show on her face.

Ki sa ki kounye a? She was gonna turn into a shark at any moment, she was sure.

There was one simple answer. Naje, Coraline instructs with a smooth tilt of her voice, hind legs moving in a practiced tread. Her lips contort into a sly smile. kick your feet. You be learnin' from de best.
She guides them outward, further and further from the safety of soft shallow sand and closer to the darkstone boulders that line the seacliff shores. When you are ready, use ya arms. I will be here. 

She glanced over the side of her aunt to try and find her reflection, though the rolling waves made it difficult. Regardless, she wrinkled her snout at herself to flash small white teeth.

No shark yet. But that’s fine. It would happen, any minute now, she was certain of it. Chantale fixed her aunt with sea glass eyes and a pout, before she snorted and pushed away.

The ocean was all she knew for a time, swallowed beneath an opportune wave. Chantale’s eyes blurred with reflexive tears as the ocean burned her nose, but it was a good burn. Then, she kicked back to the surface, dragging in a gasp. Then, she flailed her legs about, afloat by mere coincidence.

Gade!

Chantale is competitive, and harbors quite the attitude. If Coraline were any younger, perhaps she would have given her own devilish flash of ivory, but she was not that girl anymore. Her eyebrows lift unceremoniously as she watches.
The girl swims rather clumsily, limbs flailing in what Coraline could only assume was a panic. Instinctively, she reaches her own limbs out; holding herself afloat with her hind, muscles flexing as the sea ripples at her sides.
Tread de water, Chantale, she motions with the tip of a slender nose to the rhythm of her own limbs. Smooth, practiced; seaborne. Like dis, gade?