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

before them the sea spilled in dark and gurgling gasps. between the rise and fall and slap of the brine mona spoke; rannveig's ear flicked in recognition of it, and he felt relieved and perhaps emboldened that she had returned his hello and, of course, had yet to snark at him.

there was always time for that, though.

while the two shared a tentative silence, rannveig took the opportunity to slyly study her out of the corner of his eye. she looked familiar in a way he couldn't quite place; all the same, he was certain he had never beheld her like before. she was a brilliant russet, the kind of red that fringed the crisp edges of an autumn-spurned leaf -- the scintillating dip of sunset -- it was not a color he had seen at home, and he was certain of that.

all the same, something about her struck a note of intimacy in him; after a while, he came to the conclusion it was her eyes. they reminded him in a way of his mother's -- not the color, but the shape and the flicker of them, which promised to some hidden depth unreachable.

finally, he spoke. "it helps me think, i think." he gesture out to the stormy surf, which pounded in coarse drumbeats against the packed sand. "it doesn't make sense, but it helps me not think too, which clears my mind... what about you?"