Stavanger Bay Clearest blue

It was not a surprise to Skellige that Larkspur would not recall the fear she had felt when he had closed in on her. The leviathan knew that the sea would have washed away the pieces of her that were small and useless; fear would no longer cling to her heart. The drop was a sacred ritual and though it had not been done in the manner that he was accustomed to, it appeared as though the ocean had still accepted his offering and had granted the girl a second chance. The child would be better for it. She would rise against any suffering that happened to cross her path and she would have the depths to make her stronger.
 
Doe was quick to deduct what needed to be done in order to tend to the child; she instructed that it would be wise for Skellige to lead her to the waterfall near the edge of Donnelaith and allow her to drink of the fresh water. He watched her with an intense expression for a moment before bowing his head in agreement. A day in the brine was tasking for even those who had been born and bred in the sands. “The mystics thank you, Doe,” he offered to his witch doctor as she turned to seek out Lagertha or Szymon for assistance in gathering herbs.
 
With a salt-spattered pelt, the dark titan trailed his vision back to the child and he found himself captivated by the first survivor of their ways. It was a good sign of what was to come. “Come with me child and we will feed you and show you fresh water,” he growled softly to the pup. A motion with his muzzle showed the direction he intended to travel and the wraith began to move in the direction of the neighboring forest.