Dragoncrest Cliffs daughter of the king

the salty tang that laces thru the ocean breeze that snaps at her mussed fur is sticky and delicious. it reminds her of home even though, predictably, she left the cove to see who and what lay beyond. her spirit was ferociously adventurous and understandably, it could not be sated by remaining in the cove forever. returning it to it’s rightful captain, her father, flintlock had not been a slight to her pride, as it might’ve been otherwise. though aging, he was still capable. capable of inspiring loyalty as effectively as he could inspire fear among his crew. taegue knew it was her time to move on to broader horizons when the days began to feel monotonous.

she was flintlock’s daughter, after all.

the roar of the sea beneath the cliffs she paces, the sound of the fierce tide slamming against the rockcliff is soothing; as if it were a treasured lullaby that she would know in the marrow of her bones even if she spent years away from it. the sea calls to her and she finds herself always seeking to answer her.

teague draws in a deep breath, savoring the smell, the taste of the air; melding with the sharp, poignent scent of the pines at her back and thinks this is a good spot to call home temporarily.