Dragoncrest Cliffs who said this was a game

He came to the seaside for an interlude in his near-constant rounds, hoping to have the scenery force a relative calm onto him in light of all the stormy, tense thoughts that accompanied him. It had worked well before—something about the hefty churn of the waves, the brine in the air, and the innate feeling it alone could stir to ward off the restlessness. He was tempered more than usual right next to such power and might, and accordingly as he neared, his pace slowed down to a heavy jog to carry him along.

Soon, he caught sight of her pale coat, and saw he was not the first to find his way here today—Tirgatao. The Wocha moved in closer with a low rumbling chuff to test the waters of company. She looked preoccupied with the sea, but considering his own purpose in stopping by here, he was understanding of that even if it chanced an interruption on his behalf. He breathed deep, then followed with a long exhale and glance her way, although the sea pulled greedily at his gaze. "Clears the head a bit, I guess," he supposed once he was within easy earshot of the Shouna, although he wasn't convinced it was everything they'd need between them both. Answers, surely, would satisfy in the way nothing here quite could.