Wheeling Gull Isle daggers and diamonds

The firstborn of Stockholm and Coelacanth gazed around in wonder.

His eyes had only opened recently, and ever since, his incessant fussing and squeaky whimpering had fallen to near silence as he beheld the world around him in its visual presentation.  His vision was still fuzzy and unfocused yet, but he could see indistinct shapes, shadows, and colors.  Combined with his ability to hear what was going on around him, even the most mundane, insignificant things became objects of intense fascination to the boy.  

What was happening today was not mundane or insignificant in any way, but he knew nothing of the greater importance of the event.  He only knew that he was outside, with soft, buttery sand beneath his feet and salty air on his face.  Bees buzzed over nearby flowers, reedy beach grass waved in the breeze, and sea birds filled the air with their strangely musical cries.  The gleaming, sunkissed expanse of the sea nearby, with its gently-lapping waves and endless sapphire-blue flatness, beckoned to the child and he was ceaseless in his efforts to go to it.  His steps were still a bit wobbly and uncertain, but there was no uncertainty whatsoever in his intentions.