Stavanger Bay those who save lives, and those who take lives

@Rhællaa

 

While the seaside and coastal terrain had never been a compelling feature, the voyager had found himself perplexed and searching for a reason why his brother would wish to settle down there. It was so vastly different from the world in which they were born. The frigid northern land seemed almost barren in comparison with the lush life that was found in the Teekon Wilds. Guildenstern wanted only to know why that mattered. If the icy tundra of their birth had been enough to sustain them and allow them to grow through their youth, what more could they have desired? Perhaps it was the idea that Rosencrantz was searching for something more that bothered him. It suggested that the harsh man had found something to live for. There was no reason for it to vex him.
 
Large paws sunk into the sandy shore. Ocean waves lapped against it with just enough force to seem intimidating. The knight stood at the edge with an expression that reflected none of how he felt. The sea seemed to beckon him closer. He did not move from his position beside the pushing and pulling water. Overhead, the sound of seagulls carried in the breeze before they took the next gust and rose into the heavens and out of sight. There was a faded aroma there. Once, it seemed that the borders of that territory had been marked and claimed by a pack. Guildenstern wondered how long they had lasted there.

vague about why she's here but if it's okay with you, I'd like this to be set after she confronts Rosencrantz :)

Recent events - the foundation of a fledling Aristos, Daegon, the conflict with Rosencrantz - had confined her to the Isle yet those same happenings pushed her from it. She'd assured her mate that she would return, soon, but the exile needed the escape to clear her head under the pretense of scouring for off-site food sources. 

Her wanderings led her west, beyond the lands of the sea lion hordes, past the golden shores of the Coast to an idyllic bay overlooked by towering forests. Idly, she noted to herself that the terrain would have made suitable territory for Aristos but it was little more than a passing thought - they were too close to consider relocating now, not to mention they had no reason to. 

She'd seen what she came to - there were deer and antelope herds that ranged the borders of the mainland's beaches, seals and their lion cousins amongst the dunes - but still, she lingered, not quite ready to return, when her amethyst halfgaze lit upon a distant pallid silhouette. 

Curious, and somewhat grateful for the distraction, Rhælla padded closer for a better look. 

He was male, and oddly familiar, she discovered as she hovered some ways behind him - observing as he stared blankly into the sea. 

"If you're considering walking in, I don't recommend it," she called out gently, not wanting to startle him. She'd seen enough wolves on that precipice - had been there once or twice herself - to miscontrue his thousand yard stare, his apathy, for something darker. 

"Drowning's..not all it's cracked up to be."

A voice signaled the arrival of a stranger long before the scent of her did. One ear swiveled atop his crown, turned to the direction of her calling. He did not miss the words that were spoken, but he did think them to be odd. A quip was made in regard to his location – sunken in the sands with the waves lapping against his limbs and shoulders – suggesting that he might seek to delve deeper. There was a moment in which his dark lips twitched downward, unamused, before he swung his head around and latched his pale sights on her features. It was in this motion that he was met with the scent of her and the lingering aroma of those who had dwelled near to her. Somewhere in it, he could have sworn that he caught the balm of his brother.
 
“I wouldn’t think of it,” the white knight responded to her in a deadpan baritone that struck like a match against the back of his throat. It was gruff sounding, even with the waters lapping in the background. The attempt at humor did not seem to have been appreciated by the stoic specter. He had not even been certain that it had been her intention. It did not matter. Before he could prevent himself from inquiring, Guildenstern passed the filter between mind and mouth and asked of her, “why? Have you tried?”
 
Those with better manners would have been shocked by his brash query. He did not seem at all regretful. Instead, his pale gaze latched onto her features with a devilish glint. The ghost of a smile toyed at the edges of his leathery lips, teasing that they would rise upward but never committing to the action. Guildenstern waited to see if she would respond.

Her eye twitched slightly, narrowing as it flickered briefly - considering the ghostly smile and cold glint of his gaze calculatingly. As if as uncertain of his intents as he was of hers. 

"Not purposefully, of course," she murmurs at last, her tones and the hint of a grin upon her lips speaking of vague bemusement. 

"Nevertheless, it was unpleasant," she shrugs slightly, gaze casting about her. It's on the tip of her tongue to mention he had a lost look about him, spurring her original suspicions.

’Not purposefully, of course…’
 
Was that a given? Guildenstern regarded the unfamiliar woman with an expression that had not shifted once in the time that they had spoken with each other. There was a stern glint to the ghostly silver of his gaze. For the pallid knight to think that he would have been expected to surmise that she had not attempted to drown herself, well… he had only just met her. There was nothing that he had gathered about the she-wolf that would have given him any insight regarding her nature or her intentions. If she had risen one day to find that life did not hold the same appeal that it once had and opted to cast herself into the tumbling waves, the sellfang would not have known any better.
 
“Hmm,” the knight remarked to her in a gruff tone. That was all that he truly had to say on the matter. With nothing more to hold him to her, Guildenstern turned himself to his next destination and began to move on. Perhaps at one point he would find that his questions were answered. One day he would know why the strange woman by the sea had carried the scent of his brother. Until then, it mattered very little to the harsh northern tundran. The woman had not garnered much of his attention in the short time that they spoke. This meant he had no reason to remain at her side.
 
In a short matter of time, distance had stretched between them and he was on his own again.