Dragoncrest Cliffs i could base my whole existence on the cherry-strands of your gold hair

kissa! i read "whorling" as "whoring" hair tilt

In the afternoon thin blades of cloud passed over the mountains, a spectacle fit for the clement weather. The sea shrugged her waves as though rolling some burden off her shoulders, its immeasurable swathe wrought with turbulent swells chased by the wind onto the shore, pounding against the sand and then returning to its sum to repeat ad nauseum. 

It frightened her. Lusca did not like its impetuous behavior as it thrashed and threatened to suck in the stouthearted that mustered the bravery to enter its palms – she had her misgivings, her want of confidence as she felt its intensity from the treeline. Courage with a poor prognosis, and the sea's tumult was something she cared not to inquest on.

An intrepid wolf of monochrome appeared from down the coast,  startling the girl into hunkering in the overgrown grass. Orangered eyes peered through, squinting in his direction as he swung so carelessly abreast cthulu's bungalow with waves breaking over his ankles. Popping her head up, she nearly yelped out an advisory missive along the lines of hey! life is meaningless and death is inevitable but you're presenting yourself on a silver platter you dingus! but hesitated. 

Instead, she sucked her teeth and shifted her weight on her toes with uneasy feelings efflorescing in her gut, a high-pitched whine eeking from her throat.