Stavanger Bay you are the night-time terror

'The sea is too good for you.' Her gaze softened, and the smile that tiptoed at her lips now spread itself along her maw in full. Leaning in only a tad closer, boring into that emptiness of him, her voice was suddenly low, rasping, "And ze heavens, comoara mea, are too good for you." Drawing back from him, the Brana's chin lifted as if something like approval glittered therein. 

O, gods - (if there were any) - she wanted to chart him. Him, and the constellations of that prideful mind and his righteous anger. His abysmal, almost-unending stoicness. He continues to broil; to become impatient and terse, as stars do when they thrash in death throes within. Her spirit bends in aureate abandon to that vehemence of him; drawn to him and his likeness, perhaps, to the stars they bickered under – drawn to him like the threads between constellations. It is the reason she lingers, and has not made a better thought for herself at this very moment.

But she leans in, ears cupped forward to cradle that gaseous, smoldering baritone of his next words. 'Why the stars?'

"Dearest earth-shaker, why not?" She pulled away, studying him for some few moments, before reclining back on her haunches. The crag bit into her as she hugged a faintly-sodden, feathery tail to her. Although it might cost her her throat, becoming so terribly vulnerable, she did so nonetheless; lashes fluttered closed, lips demurely parting as she breathed in deep. And then she was exhaling into the stars, and after a time, her silvered gaze opened for them.

"Twice, I died under them." Already, she had fallen far from herself; but she told him.

At least, she did not tell him of her first death. Not yet. But she told him of the second: how, when on the harrowing trek to the Wilds: she could still hear her brothers’ wail in her ears, as sharp and bleak as the taiga had been, without truly hearing. She could still see him, without really seeing: tumbling tumbling tumbling into that deathly, icy crevasse, one that had surely taken him thrashing into the bowels of the world itself. She’d lost him. And herself. Had lost him from the moment she turned a cheek, hesitantly faithful, to his worries— and had lost herself to the instant where she had been so ruined to reach him in time. And all she knew was that she was breaking and fracturing and there was nothing but this agony agony agony--

"They are my constant. They are what will lead my to finding my hanar. He who is the only one in this world who keeps me eternally grounded. I will take ze entirety of ze world and all of its wonders between my jaws, if only to see him again. I will make ze sun my guide; I will make mountains kneel. Although I am star-born, I would become a storm -- for him." By now, her once-lovely face had slid into an expression that was almost as void as the depths of the titan's eyes seemed to be. "I am most certainly mad for thinking he survived, of course. I suppose I've left my mind, back when it all happened."

And it was with that very same look that she turned back to him, neither defensive or terrified of judgment. Simply... wilting, but open. Allowing.