Stavanger Bay metamorphoses

the sun was low in the sky, the waves crashing in a steadfast rhythm on the shoreline. gulls circled above in the light show of the dying sun, shrieking their anger as they fought over a piece of flesh made shapeless by the sea. below them, the witch lopped at a steady pace parallel to the waves, gaze over the water and watching the dying rays of a sun doomed to slip beyond the horizon. her objective was a pile of dark boulders that learnt haphazardously against one another near the surf, a place where she hoped to stay the night. never did she sleep away from the openness of the night sky, the energy of the star-lit sky. 

a single leapt took her atop the lowest of the boulders, from which she clambered atop the next highest rock. she wasted no time in settling down on the still-warm rock, the product of an unusually warm spring day. there she settled her head upon her paws and gazed towards the sea, watching with perfect stillness the waves as they tore themselves apart upon the surf.

The pale DeMonte had made his way North to the coast a few days prior and had since lingered. It felt to him a bit like a vacation from the monotony of forests and mountains and plains he had spent so much of his life traversing. Though it was not his first time experiencing the the ocean, it was still newer enough that he felt excitement at being here.

Trouvère cantered steadily along the shoreline. His hair was wild and wiry from saltwater and his tongue lolled from a mouth turned up at the corners in a grin. His stomach was beginning to ache from hunger as it had been days since he'd last eaten, but at the moment he wasn't feeling too perturbed by this. In fact, he spied something in the distance that drove his hunger completely from his mind.

He watched the stranger as she leaped onto the rocks, her frame sihlouetted against the sun beyond her. Intrigued, Tru continued along the coast towards her perch. He moved to the base of her makeshift tower, peering up towards her with a grin as he called, "Pardon me, Rapunzel?"

She had but settled upon the most comfortable of the sun-warmed stones when keen gaze caught the form of another, approaching along the beach. ears flicked atop her head to stand at attention, keen gaze captured at the sight of the approaching male. he did not stop until situated at the base of her perch, framed amongst the pebbled beach as the witch looked down to him. 

her tail moved behind in languidly, comfortable on her perch. his words were odd, and a tilt of her head signified this. she knew not of a Rapunzel, besides, that was not her name. "I am not Rapunzel."  she said, words a lilting song, adding a moment later, "I am Thelxiope" straightening her head, she looked down to him, "But you are pardoned, wanderer" 

the woman had deduced him to be such, as a breath of breeze had told her he held no packscent, and instead the airy one of a loner, as did she. a hint of mirth saturated her final words, and her tail twitched in good humour. 

The female gave him an assessing look and an answer that attempted to stomp out Tru's nonsense. A smirk curled across his muzzle at her as he rolled her name across his mind. Thelxiope. That was a mouthful. He wondered how long he'd get away with referring to her as "Rapunzel" instead, which was also a mouthful but at least was one he was more familiar with having grown up with the story.

"I am not Wanderer," he replied with amusement, "I am Trouvère, but you can call me Tru. And are you sure you're not Rapunzel? You seem perfectly poised for the role."