Cerulean Cape Washed

The ocean waves slammed wildly against the hull of the Tachruk Spar as the weathered voice of the elderly captain of the cargo container ship cut through the storming rain across the deck to the multitude of deck hands that scrambled to attach new tie downs to the loose and slipping cargo containers. The ship's captain had planned to anchor the ship out close to a mountainous island to break some of the treacherous waves, but they simply could not beat the storm's arrival.

In one of the many loose containers aboard, the ship resided a stowaway. Said stowaway had been perched atop the hood of some rich man's antique vehicle. The metal was cold, much to his displeasure, but not nearly as uncomfortable as the floor of the steel container. By the time the storm had hit, the wolf dog's eyes had closed, and he was off to a cozy slumber. That slumber lasted for an hour or so until the container broke free from its tie down. Fortunately, the old vehicle was cinched to a tie down inside the container. Unfortunately for Crixus, he was not, and inertia was a son of a bitch as he was yanked from his peaceful sleep at the suddenness of his jostling, with his body flying clear to the side of the steel container with a thud and a loud yipe.

'The hell was that!?' he wondered as he stumbled toward the entrance of the big metal box thing he had mistakenly entered when looking for shelter. It was dark as hell in this damn box, and he had not a clue of what to do with outside forces continuing to jostle the large container. On the outside, one of the many deckhands was working to get the freed end of the shipment hooked to a pad eye when a rogue wave came thundering with the strength of ten thousand horses roaring down the plains. The call-out from the elderly captain had the deckhand reaching out for anything to grab onto so they were not swept away by the ocean's unforgivingly cold embrace. In doing so, they caught hold of the handle to the door of the container for dear life just as the wave swept across the deck, sending the already marginally loose container even freer of its constraints with the hanger-on deckhand's grip and force of the wave twisting the handle just enough to rip the door wide open.

Crixus, just like before with the previous wave, was sent into the side of the container with yet another thud and a scared yipe. He honestly had no idea what was going on or what was sending him flying any chance he seemed to gain footing. When the door to the cargo container swung wide open, and the ship's lights showed through, the wolf dog shot out of the darkness like a cannon. It didn't matter where he was going as long as it wasn't back in that weird and magically dangerous death box. He was about to be in for one rude awakening as he was immediately hit with wind and rain from the side. The pads of his feet slipped as they attempted to gain traction on the smooth and drenched deck. 'What was this damn place, and why did I decide to sleep here?' These were the requisite thoughts that plagued him as he skittered with inefficiency across the deck.

Many of the deckhands took notice of the wolf dog and started to attempt to wrangle the stowaway, with many of them exclaiming, "Did you see that shit?! Was that a damn wolf? How in god's name did that get on here?" Some of them, with the suddenness of the surprise, attempted to leave their stations, but it was the voice of the captain over the intercom that brought their attention back to what was truly important. "Forget the damn wolf! If we don't take care of these containers, we'll lose them, and more importantly, we could lose some of you! We'll figure out the wolf after the storm." The ship's crew turned its full attention on surviving the storm as Crixus scrambled toward a safer portion of the weather deck where the deck below him was now covered in non-skid and his pads finally seeking non-slippery purchase.

The wolf dog's ears lowered to his head, and his tail hung low as he clung tight to the skin of the ship with the waves continued to rock with a vengeance. Scared and curious blue eyes spotted one of many watertight doors opened with a scruffy looking man in Xtra Tuffs and a filthy apron came stumbling out in a hurry to make to over to the guard rail just in time to feed the fishes with some fresh out the gut seafood vomit. Crixus seeing an opportunity bolted to perceived safety with the cook otherwise not knowing as he spilled his guts in the storm. However, much to the wolf dog's surprise there was a whole mess of folks in the kitchen attempting to prep a meal for the crew. One of the cooks' attention was summoned hearing the click-clack of the wolf dog's nails rapped against the deck. His eyes went wide in silence with a shaky hand roughly shoving another. "What?!" They would utter in frustration, "Uh.. Uhh.. Ahahhh Look man! It's a mother fuckin' wolf!" They all turned collectively to stare at the intruder with shock and words were exchanged between them of what they should do.

Things seemed none to pleasant for Crixus as the cooks attempted to surround him with pots and pans held high in their hands. It made him feel any moment that they were about to strike. Their energies and postures did not resonate well with him and all her could do was attempt to back up down the passage way he had come down, but even that would prove to be difficult with the return of the barfing cook. A very fearful growl buzzed in his throat as he warned them not to get any closer, or he would do what he did best and that was bite anything in range. The humans in his lifetime seemed to understand one thing and that was getting bitten by him was more than a cue to take a hike. With Crixus' rear bumping into the returning chef it sent him into a rage as he jumped at the nearest human in front of him with his jaws ready to grip and shake. Before he could sink his teeth in any of them he was clonked over the head by a large skillet that sent him into a daze. The humans uttered some garbled language as he stumbled trying to get his bearing once more. The fat puke chef had gone and opened up the watertight door once and set the locking device before getting out of the way. Crixus now being chased by the crew with their pots and pans darted toward that open door.

Out the open door he went and this time instead of trying to round the corner the wolf dog took a very uncalculated and deadly risk and bolted off the side of the ship into the cold depths. If he hadn't been so jacked on adrenaline he would have gone into immediate shock and sank like a rock. Crixus paddled his limbs violently as he tried to stay above the water line. It was a fool's errand that the wolf dog was sure to end in a very untimely death until a wave had carried something round and circular over head. He didn't know what that was, but it made him want to scramble back to the surface to find out. With one last push he got back to it and managed to shoot right through the middle of this circular device. One of the chefs had some kind of sad feelings about seeing a fluffy dog creature drowning at sea so he tossed a life ring and hoped the wild animal would find it. The odds were sparse, and he would never know if the wolf dog found it before drowning, but it was the thought that counted.

Despite finding the wondrous floating device it didn't stop the waves from violently crashing over him and sending him tumbling through the depths. Much to his great fortune the life ring would always bring him back to the top even if at some point during insane ride he lost total consciousness.

The next day the wolf dog along the orange ring washed up on the Cerulean Coast. He was still knocked out from his rough and tumbled the night prior, and perhaps it seemed like maybe he didn't quite survive the journey. That didn't stop some of the local beach wild life from making its way over to him. Namely one of the many species of crab had decided to investigate and figure out if this large wet animal was food to pick at.

he smells strange, and looked funnier yet.

atoztli shoos off the crab with a flick of her paw, snuffling the loose fur along the drowned man’s shoulders.

his sides rose slowly. alive.

the priestess prods at his cheek, marveling the exotic angles of his broad face.

His sides rose and fell slowly indicative that he was still among the living. The crab that had been poking pulling at portions of his skin had not seemed to disturb the knocked out wolf dog. He had been beyond tired before the endeavor of last nights rough and tumble with the sea, so it was safe to say that the was enjoying this moment of peace. 

His state of unconsciousness could no longer ignore the prodding of whatever creature curious enough to disturb him. Blue eyes slowly blinked open to the waking world, where they captured the face of a golden capped and masked wolf. Something inside him wanted to bolt, but he didn't. The gentleness of the prodding and the none aggressive physical presence of the female wolf told him he did not need to skedaddle. No, he just laid there staring up at her with the orange ring of life awkwardly wrapped around his neck and left forelimb. 

He must have looked absolutely ridiculous.

she flicks none too kindly at the crab, eyes turning back as the beast began to stir. 

atoztli moves back instinctively out of bite range as he stares at her. whatever he is, he is exotic — he smells strange, looks strange, and has strange things affixed to him — which begs the question, what higher being made him?

surely, he is not made in tezcatlipoca’s image. she sweeps him again with her dark gaze, amused at the thought that sprang to mind: how powerful would parts of his body be for rituals?

There are times when you are most assuredly happy that you don't possess a superpower such as reading minds. Crixus at this very moment would be thanking his lucky stars that he could not sense the inner workings of the gold capped wolf standing before him. If he were able he would have recognized that he was indeed in an 'out of the frying pan and into the fire' situation. 

Not possessing such an ability, the bright blues of the wet wolf dog looked up at her once more before coming to a rather quick conclusion that all this water that had drenched his coat had made him quite cold. With a bit of a shiver running up his spine, he picked himself up off the sandy beach and began to shake. Water and sand particles alike, going in every which direction until he was satisfied. The life ring still wrapped around him had not gone unnoticed and part of him wanted to ditch the blasted thing, but it had saved his life. Perhaps he owed this life giver a debt. 

After much thought, he shimmied along the beach, rolling around until he removed the encumbering life ring. It had been uncomfortable, but he wasn't ditching his savior. He was far too honorable to do such a thing. No, the edge was artfully scooped upward with his nose until he lifted it up enough to slide his head under and through the hole once more.

Crixus' attention again returned to Atotzli after ignoring her presence. Unlike her, he was not thinking about what parts of her he could offer up to some strange god. He was more so focused on trying not to end up dead after surviving the coldest depths of hell. He outstretched his forelimbs before her as his chest lowered to the beach with his tail whipping behind him. A soft yawning howl uttered in her direction as he attempted to greet her.