Stavanger Bay but i got one condition

slight pp and tag for reference, let me know if you'd like anything changed, box! <3

with their goodbyes spoken, the newly wed sveijarns make their way to the coast; rhaegal taking the lead.

he leaves @Vairë to sleep with a kiss to her forehead and makes his way out of the ashwoods towards the beach of the bay they had temporarily ( perhaps! ) taken refuge in.

surely, this wasn't the only bay the teekons had to offer and if this wasn't the bay of his doewife's dreams, rhaegal was determined to not stop until he found it.

the lulling roar of the high tide, the seafoam that rushes upon the waves that lick eagerly at his paws as he stands, weather eye upon the horizon, brings rhaegal a sense of peace.

so long as the sea was within his reach, the seafarer was content.

When Caracal felt a touch of wanderlust today, he let @Heda know he was headed inland for a few hours but he would be back by nightfall. He departed by way of the exposed land bridge, feet sinking into the wet sands. When he reached the mainland, he looked left, then right, and decided to head that way today.

He gave the sea lions a wide berth, though he veered back toward the seaside once their barks (and their stink) dropped away behind him. The dunes here cradled a picturesque bay, though that wasn’t what caught Caracal’s eye. There was a dark man standing in the surf, eyes cast toward the horizon, putting him in stark profile.

Caracal sucked in a breath and slowed, unable to look away from the most attractive man he’d ever seen in his life.

the sea comforts rhaegal, and it is only until he is taking it in, sea wind full of salt and fine grains of sand whipping through the fur at his name, stinging against his muzzle did he realize how much he'd missed it. like an ache in his chest.

but! would vairë have chosen elsewhere, a territory inland to want to start their family: he wouldn't have argued.

he prided himself on being a devoted husband, first. salty seadog second.

he considers, as he watches a seagull lazily ride the waves among its' kin that he needed to start weaving seabrid feathers in his nape fur to symbolize his status as staghusband — though, admittedly, he would need vairë's help with it.

caught in the sea's spell, he does not hear the approach of the stranger, the sand effective in swallowing the sounds of footfalls. the roar of the sea, distracting.

movement out of the corner of his eye snags his attention and rhaegal's head swings in the stranger's direction; golden gaze taking in the stranger staring at him, draped in a coat of red and drysand.

ye ok there, sassenach? rhaegal asks, voice rising above the lulling searoar.

The stranger turned toward him, bronze eyes assessing. Caracal felt his flesh prickling beneath his red fur in a full-body blush. He knew by now he had a type when it came to men—tall, dark and handsome—but he had never found someone this impossibly attractive. From the cut of his chiseled jaw to the cape of paler fur streaking his broad shoulders to the flash of red fur on his tail, he was more beautiful than most women he’d seen.

And then he spoke. Caracal swooned inwardly, though he tried very hard to control his expression. First of all, many males didn’t like that kind of attention from a fellow man. Secondly, they hadn’t even exchanged names. Thirdly, Caracal had a girlfriend. He needed to watch himself.

I’m, he said, faintly at first but clearing his throat and raising his voice, alright. But it’s Caracal, not… whatever you just said, he added, unable to resist a cheeky wink.

rhaegal doesn't mind the staring, though he's left to assume it's because the notch in his ear and the scars that pepper his cheek and the larger, nastier one ( a physical trophy etched like a tattoo onto his flesh all the same! ) left by a deer hunting for vairë's bride price.

though ... with the distance between them, could the other male see those imperfections?

these scars might be nasty tae look at, but i promise i dinnae bite. a semi joke; at best, a lighthearted attempt to make light of his trials and tribulations.

sassenach? rhaegal offers helpfully with a grin. it means outsider. i use it when addressin' strangers. he offers, though it hadn't been asked for. i'm rhaegal. nice tae meetcha caracal. rhaegal offers; jovial.

what brings ye out this way? the sveijarn asks conversationally.

Scars? What scars? Caracal blinked and moved closer, only now noticing the slight flaws marring the other man’s features. If anything, they actually added to his rugged beauty. He desperately wanted to tell him this, though he clenched his teeth and let the man offer an introduction.

The scars just make you look like a total bad-ass, Caracal said. I bet there’s a cool story behind each of them, and he would be more than happy to hear them or anything else Rhaegal wanted to say to him.

But of course, he’d asked Caracal a question, so he wiped the proverbial drool off his lip and said, I live on that island, and turned to point at the speck on the horizon. Facing Rhaegal again, he added, I just felt like wandering a bit today. Do you live around here?

She woke, lashes fluttering against her cheeks, to the distant roll of the sea and an empty bed. The newly minted Sveijarn stretched out with a short hum of a noise, relaxing bonelessly into bedding still warm from her own body heat.

Vairë would luxuriate there for a time, before distant snatches of words made her raise her own head from the bedding, sleep mussed and drowsy eyed. Well, she supposed, there was no time like the present. She stood after a bit longer of slipping closer to sleep, grooming herself into finer form. Then, she slipped out to follow her husband’s trail.

There was no iron-blood scent in the air, so she ambled slowly but surely. And after a time, there he was, her erstwhile seastag, and she would greet any eye contact with a smile. And, would you look at that, he had a friend! The stranger would be met with the same smile as Rhaegal received as she slipped past the stag, content to weave through the conversation until she was addressed as she went towards the ocean.

rhaegal is flattered by the words, but the seastag has never been a vain beast. confident. but not vain. it shows in the humbled grin and lofty shrug of his shoulders.

golden gaze follows caracal's motion, focusing upon the speck of an island in the sea's distance. suddenly, he is filled with a seaswell of nostalgia, a part of him missing meares island. it felt silly to. living beneath aegir's shadow, trying to cope with valtyr's homicide.

the growing rift between arrax and aegir —

no, he was glad to be gone. but there was a small piece of him that would miss the place that had raised him. the elders that taught him.

vairë finds them as rhaegal draws in a breath to answer the question posed to him. he makes eye contact with his doewife, matching her smile, worrying for a moment that he had woken her upon his departure —

he tucks those thoughts away as he watches her move past him and then past caracal towards the waves.

there is nae easy answer tae that, rhaegal admits, golden gaze flickering back to caracal. my wife vairë — he both introduces and motions towards her with his muzzle, and i are searchin' for a bay tae make a home, like she dreams of.

Before Rhaegal could answer Caracal’s question, both men turned toward the figure of a svelte she-wolf coming closer. He immediately thought of Heda, though the resemblance stopped at the color of their fur. This woman’s pelt was actually a few shades darker, with no shock of red at her nape. Instead, she possessed a scroll-work scar framing mismatched eyes. She, too, was striking, even if she didn’t capture Caracal’s attention quite the same way as Rhaegal.

“My wife, Vairë…” the man was saying, drawing the Redhawk’s half-blind gaze back to him.

He felt a pang of disappointment, though of course that was stupid. It wasn’t like he’d planned to act on his impulses. Caracal took a beat to register the rest of the man’s words, trying very hard not to get caught up in that alluring accent of his.

Nice to meet you, Ms Vairë! he called out to the woman who’d headed toward the water rather than the pair of them. Lowering his voice, he said to Rhaegal, Huh, cool! Isn’t this a bay? and gestured at the cove beyond his lovely wife’s head and shoulders. I can’t remember what it’s called but it’s one of the nicer ones. There’s another further southwest of here, just past the cliffs. It might be a bit bigger than this one.

She strode into the ocean with a flick of her tail, summarily dipping her face into an oncoming wave to clean what she could not reach. Licking salt from her whiskers, the doe gave a quick shake of her head, then left the water to return to her husband’s side.

She offered the stranger a smile.

My apologies for not speaking as I came by, I needed to clean my face for the day. She explained, her riverstone eyes focused on the tall, handsome man. He only wore one eye, but his coat was quite beautiful. In a way, he reminded her of Samani’s colors, a soothing fact to the part of her soul that missed home.

She sat beside Rhaegal, primly tucking all for legs beneath her.

vairë apologizes for breezing past them, and when she settles beside him, rhaegal leans close to press his nose to her cheek briefly; in greeting, in affection.

aye, rhaegal replies to caracal's question? statement? this be a bay. rhaegal affirms with a low, deep chuckle. he takes the information the younger man offers eagerly, though: that this is one of a few bays ... one of the nicer ones, caracal offers.

which bay we make our home is up tae her, a soft cant of his head given in his doewife's direction. it's her dream. and so long as rhaegal was near the sea, he was a happy man!

You’re fine, Caracal replied when Vairë joined them with an apology, smiling at her.

There was a subtle, affectionate exchange between the pair that made Caracal’s stomach dip. He was a little jealous of this woman for claiming such a hunk, though mostly the small display made him yearn for Heda. It was silly and stupid, nonetheless…

I don’t think you could go wrong with either choice, Caracal said to them. I’ve explored along this coastline quite a bit. I’m not, like, super familiar with every territory but, well, you really can’t go wrong. And though he’d already told Rhaegal, he added for his wife’s benefit, I live on Wheeling Gull Isle, just up the coast from here. I don’t think I could ever live inland again.

He smiled warmly at them, intuiting that he had unwittingly interrupted their venture. If they were searching for a home, that meant they had their work cut out for them, as once they found the right place, they would need to settle it. Maybe Caracal only told himself that as an excuse to make his way back to the island.

I should be getting back there, I have a lady to feed. But good luck on your search! Please drop by the island anytime and ask for Caracal or Heda. See you guys!

He waved a paw and turned, breaking into a trot. Caracal glanced over his shoulder once, eyes lingering almost wistfully on Rhaegal in particular, before he faced forward, gaze now set on the distant speck on the sea.

She watched the young man walk away, back towards his island. Her head turned to her husband, tail beginning to wave for a moment.

He seemed nice. Came the gentle assessment, Vairë’s ears twisting to face Rhaegal. The doe waited for a moment, before she stood and shook out her coat.

I like this bay you have chosen for us. A twinkle in riverstone eyes.

It is…very nice. A perfect mix of us. She indicated to the forest, and the sea with her nose.

rhaegal sees the young man off with a nod of his head and a nice tae meet ya. like a young to-be dad waving to a friendly neighbor from the otherside of his new white picket fence.

aye, rhaegal says with a low rumbling laugh. he was interestin'. but spoken with soft endearment rather than ridicule.

yeah? the inquiry passes thru his lips to complete the soft tilt of his head. he peers around for a moment before golden gaze settles upon her's. i agree.