Stavanger Bay gangnam style

your post was perfect, no worries! thank you for starting this! <3 the dice rolled evens so a wild arturo appears! :0

 

The Fearghal was himself this evening (night?) and dared not sleep for the fear that his slumber would be enough to rouse the sea witch to stealing his consciousness. A month...perhaps more — time had become a disorienting thing to Arturo since his fall from Ravenshook Cliffs — he knew when Riptide was in control but he did not always remember. Sometimes he simply dreamed and when he awoke the memories had faded into a dark abyss of his mind, erased. He was not sure how long it'd been since he'd last been in control of his own body — and there was never any way for him to decipher what would trigger the sea witch. On top of everything Arturo had endured thus far in these Wilds: first the famine, then his Isle being stolen right out from under him, and now this he was beginning to believe that these lands did not hold a new promise for him but were rather his curse. Yet, Arturo kept going because that was what he did. He survived. He didn't know how to do anything else. Giving up or ending it wasn't in his nature. He was too proud, too stubborn. Too — full of life. Yet, the sea witch's continued presence as a parasite in his mind made the days bleak for the gangster.

This wasn't something he knew how to deal with. It wasn't something he knew how to fix. Maybe he needed a mystic — a witch or something. He wasn't a big believer in religions or deities but he considered magic, at the very least. It had been thought that his own daughter, Devin, would be a soothsayer for the Irish deities his mother believed so fervently in. She was not as it turned out — or at least had never given any indication towards such a gift. The gangster believed in the only way he knew how: with scrutiny and reservation. With little to do he intended to enjoy the night as much as he could, though why he'd chosen the shore for his walk he wasn't quite sure. The ash forest within the Bay brought him more solace than the ocean did, but he supposed there was something calming and zen about the roar of the sea, of the cool and briny breeze that rolled off the sea.

A figure caught his attention in the distance, light colored against the shadows of the rolling hills of sand and against the backdrop of the sea which was darker still. In the shadow of night it looked black and murky. A soft chuff was given to announce his presence so he did not startle the other. He did not immediately recognize him and the scents that might aid Arturo in identifying him were tampered by the scent of seawater. Still, Arturo did not think he was a trespasser and kept his body neutral, an amiability to his posture reserved for the meeting of new (and known) pack mates.