Stavanger Bay I am not the slave to history but rather the slave to ambition.

@Lasher - if you're interested!

Death, is here. It's in the very air she breathes, in the trees she gazes upon, in the earth beneath her feet. The destruction of a world has always enchanted her but there are whispers that draw her in still. She marches forward, feet moving slowly past the brooks and streams as they met and then rush to the ocean. Water - that promised life. That promised of rebirth and flourishing and growth. That would change things, fix things. 

It did not fix the feeling in her body, the slow dull tug to parts unknown. Her promise had been to stay far away from her family, her mother describing somehow the darkness in her blood. Still - she had to know for herself. She could not help herself.