Sea Lion Shores the sun is gone, but i have a light

when at first rannveig's gaze met the murkwater depths of the she-wolf, he had sensed trepidation. it stilled his movements, staying his hand -- he was not a violent wolf, and was loathe to instill fear in others. and so, his body seemed to gently lose its tension - his rough shoulders the first to soften, his eyes cast in her direction, yet unimposing.

she canted her muzzle, and in the waning light he caught the delicate curve of her mouth; the flat, sleek slant of her forehead. she was pretty; or at least, rannveig thought so -- but he felt at the same time he was looking upon something beautiful, but bound by some grim and unseen tether. it troubled him.

all the same he inched closer slowly, his breathing assured and features relaxed -- as if he were coming to tame a feral cat, or soften the hateful spitting of a wild domestic. "hi." he ventured as the wind picked up, his gaze now trailing to the rough impetus of the waves before them.