Stavanger Bay we are all just stars that have people names

names were lovely, beautiful things. deirdre so loved names, and used one to identify all the things she loved--and yet, even if they were absent a name, she would love them no differently, trust them no less! they had a scent, a look, that she would adore in any lifetime. this man bore no soft look of all the things she loved, and yet there was something to him that drew her to this conclusion, this belief, that she could trust him. her intuition had not once led her astray.

she searched for him in the water, and when she did not see him she felt him at her hindquarter. had it been him, or was it some ocen predator? to be sure, she looked--alarmed--toward him, nearly pulling upward in panic to gasp for air. bubbles erupted from her own nostrils, but then he was by her side, and she opened her mouth to speak--only a garbled sound came out, and then she had to laugh at her foolish mindslip, the sound a siren song to the fish nearby, who seemed to be delighted and curious by the waters newest resident. her aching eyes were forgotten in favor of the strange, giddy feeling she experienced. she closed her mouth for a moment as she noted the aquatic beings swimming between them, and her eyes moved to look at skellige, who had been looking at her.