Ravenshook Cliffs kind of mood that you wish you could sell

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today velen thought of his mother, and of skellige. it had been some time since he and his brothers had come to the bay, and already they were not alone in their claim. dalia, a flower-girl of a person, but not so sweet that she was not witty, willing to bandy barbs back. this delighted velen, for the snowdrop provided an altogether different sort of diversion.
he went looking for her that day, trailing a thick strip of seal-pelt behind him. what he had intended with it was altogether a lost cause; now the mayfair-cairn danced lightly along the cliffs, twirling as if he were a temple dancer with a length of ribbon.
velen spotted dalia not far off, and slung the grisly toy along his shoulders, approaching her with a gait that soon became solemn when he was close enough to note the dejected stance of her body.
"you okay?" he chuffed, settling nearby but not so closely that he interrupted the edges of dalia's personal space. and, not wanting to stare, velen turned his own gaze out over the sea, comforted every time he laid eyes upon it.