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

understandably, rannveig’s basic drivel seemed to deliver some confusion. he watched as the cardinal waif wrestled with the nonsensical weight of his words, politely commandeering the subject to something a little more intelligent. he rolled his shoulders in acceptance of mona’s relative inexperience with the sea: maybe someday, like him, Mona would draw peace from the pensive presence of the ocean. 

she asked of his birthplace. rannveig, oversharer extraordinaire, flicked his tail with a casual indifference and spoke: ”I was born on an island — sooo... yeah. but we had forests and rocks and stuff there too.” he shifted into his elbows and glanced over, finding her gaze was upon him. fearless and without challenge he held those murkwater eyes, studied the slender cant of her delicate muzzle. ”what about you?”