Ravenshook Cliffs unmoored

For @Sandpiper!

She had lost her family, over and over and over again. That she did not remember them was the final, stinging loss— but knowing, now, that she would never know them in the flesh had split the wound wide open again. Emaleth perched on the cliffside, looking out over the moonlit ocean, wondering now what her purpose would be. It was silly to mourn, for nothing had truly changed... but the emotional storm had only grown stronger, and she didn't know how to find her way out.

What now, Bran? she murmured softly to the crow. He considered her with dark eyes and a tilt of his head, before launching himself off the cliffside to soar above the waves. Emaleth watched his trajectory with furrowed brows, unaware of his message— or unwilling to understand.

thanks for starting!

it was usual to see a crow grappling the strong winds of the sea, and as sandpiper watched the dark form flit across the moonlit ocean, her eyes were draw to where it had originated -- a jagged cliffside that butted the cold sea. her gaze traveled upward and landed on a dark form hunched at the lip of the bluff.

the distance was too great for her make out any defining features - it was distinctly canine, and that was about all she could tell. bidden by curiosity, sandpiper made for the figure at a dog-trot, coming to a halt once she was close enough gather a good look at the individual. she was dark, as dark as the crow whose wings folded between clips of seafoam. sandpiper regarded her quizzically. "that your bird?"

Her ear swiveled to catch the sounds of another approaching, but the dark witch couldn't bring herself to care. She was on neutral land, and if some stranger decided to head-butt her off the cliff; well, that would just be her time to go, wouldn't it? And, truth be told, the Mayfair wasn't sure if she thought life was worth living. Emaleth had been unmoored by family for as long as she could remember, but she always held out hope that she would find them. With that hope gone, was life's only point to survive? And what sort of life would that be?

Not exactly, she thrummed as the other halted nearby and spoke. Emaleth turned a graceful head over her shoulder to look at the other, He hangs around like my shadow, but I do not own him. I call him Bran. I don't know why he stays.

sandpiper was oblivious to the embittered turmoil that stirred in the dark mayfair, but she did not miss the elegant cant of the woman's muzzle, nor the graceful lilt of her voice. sandpiper was rough, coarse -- this woman seemed sleek and assured with every fluid movement.

it was then sandpiper noticed the contrast of her gaze, though she did not speak upon it. her eyes were hungrily trailing the bird when she spoke. "i could help you get rid of it, if you want." she offered, dickishly grinning. she was so good at making friends.