brackish v2

 

To the waters did they dive, the waves trying to push them down under into the Rembeodes lair, as the Ancient Dragon raged in each paddle they took. Sometimes Vendrussel found herself under and could only pray, for the opposite of the devil in the water was always watching within it's shore. She would guide them through this, especially if the other, if believed strong enough in Dragonford. Vendrussel looked back to @Dreadnought, a caution so the other would not fall through.

She was used to such ways, training often in the thunderous waters for the sake of her homeland. She wouldn't force others to do so, but wouldn't it be nice for volunteers? Softer, she so thought, feeling her kin may laugh at so but it mattered not. She was only slightly different in that way, knowing the not many would accept such traditions.

But this one would never fall, especially not with The Ancients guiding her through. With prayers in thought to Nathesdied, her paws settled to the isle's rock, and climbed up. Vendrussel looked back, to see if she followed.

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 The storm swallowed them. 

 Waves rose like the top of some great, slavering maw. Crashing around the pair of wolves, white fangs of water cut a chill into her bones. Dreadnought swam. She pumped through the swill until her limbs ached with fatigue. 

 Merciless, the seething torrent dunked her below. Lungs burning with brine, she kept pushing, blood roaring in her ears as her paws found purchase on the side of a jagged rock. 

 Hauling herself from the water, Dreadnought lay on her side, chest heaving. Finally, she righted herself. “Have I passed your test?” She asked, voice salt-scratched and raw.

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"Afraid not, more just an unlucky passage." She said, observing that Dreadnought did survive — which led to Vendrussel turning to the mound and heading up. The more she would move to the top, the more would the wind whip her face, feeling the currents attempt to push her off the island itself, and plunge into the sea. The rain hitting harder, as the thunder crackled within the background ; but it wasn't the end of it all, after all.

"Now, you must jump from the ledge," her paw moved to the height of it all, she stood near the torii gate as if ushering her through this new temple. A newer life, and a body of wolves to call by though. Some would leave, some would join — but all proved themselves with a courage unlike any other. Embracing, the life a dragon should.

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 This was just the start. 

 Dreadnought followed the other wolf, the sea spray moistoning already slick rocks. A banshee-wind howled around them. She could barely hear Vendrussel above the screaming gale, but she heard enough. 

 Jump. 

 Dreadnought looked down at the seething torrent below, a black abyss calling out a future of challenge, of hardship, of thrill. 

 She dove. 

 There was a weightless moment of freefall before the sea swallowed her, the leviathan hungry for its meal. Dreadnought pumped her limbs, righting herself, gasping as she broke through the surface and pulled herself onto the rocks once more.

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As she fell to the oceans embrace, the question came be whether The Ancients would accept so. Two monsters lurking within the spiritual realm of so, one desiring destruction to those who touch their sea, and the other that guides against, wisping through the waves in a peaceful embrace. A watching of her dive, as Vendrussel peered over to the edge and prayed to them for her safety — for she seemed like a fine warrior of the storms itself, as it crackled within the back-drop. If she did, there was a nickname awaiting herself.

But it seemed Nathesdied had particularly blessed them as she saw Dreadnought's head above the water and swim to shore ; where she too walked toward the bottom of the sacred testing grounds and smiled brightly at the other, "welcome, the newest storm dragon," as she granted a nickname even the heavens seem to bless, for thunder boomed against their ears.

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